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citrusipop · 2 days ago

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Pagtingin! . hyun-ju

" When I reveal my feelings I hope your opinion of me won't change When I confess my secrets I hope your opinion of me won't change " - patingin by ben&ben

in which . in which Hyun-ju comes back after the events of the game and she happens to bump into her partner who she left without an explanation.

cho hyun-ju x reader (fem) . angst/fluff

based off . ♡

Strolling through the busy streets, you stumbled upon your favorite café. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and vanilla, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Sweet bossa nova music played softly in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations. It was the perfect day to settle down and work in the cozy atmosphere of the café. After ordering your usual coffee and sweet treats, you made your way to a nearby table by the window.

Taking your seat, you gazed out at the bustling street. Sure, it might seem cliché to some—a solitary figure at a window seat in a café—but to you, it was a small joy. The window wasn’t just a pane of glass; it was a lens into the endless stories unfolding outside. Watching strangers go about their lives, you found yourself imagining their worlds. Two girls walked past in school uniforms—you guessed they were high schoolers, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. Your eyes followed a middle-aged man pedaling his bike, his neatly pressed office attire suggesting he worked in accounting or something similar.

It fascinated you how everyone’s lives were so different from your own. Each person outside that window carried a story you’d never fully know, lives that were nothing like yours—boring, miserable, yet oddly peaceful and happy in their own way. And for a moment, watching them, you felt connected to something bigger, as though their differences somehow brought you closer to understanding your own quiet existence.

Your thoughts suddenly come to an end when you hear a group of people laughing next to you. You wish you had your earbuds with you to drown out the sounds but the gods were against you and made you forget to bring it. Wallowing in your sadness, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the table next to you and it made your mind race, turning to the table next to you…

It was her. For a moment, you froze, your breath hitching in your chest. Oh, how you wished this was a dream—because it certainly felt like one. A dream so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that the thought of waking up filled you with dread. But it wasn’t a dream. The world around you blurred and faded, leaving only her, like the central figure in a watercolor painting.

And then you heard it, her laughter. That soft, melodic sound you thought you’d forgotten but never truly could. It was like a gentle breeze carrying fragments of your past, filling you with a bittersweet ache. That laughter brought you back to a time when everything felt lighter, simpler, and whole. Nostalgia crashed into you, raw and unrelenting, pulling at the corners of your heart.

You wanted to move, to say something, but all you could do was sit there, drinking in the moment. That sound, that sight of her—it was a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. And for just an instant, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just a fleeting memory or a trick of your longing mind but something real, something you could hold onto, even if only for a little while.

You hadn’t realized how long your gaze had been fixed on her until you noticed she was looking back at you. Her almond-shaped brown eyes met yours, locking you in place. She gave you a smile like before, but your mind drifted to how beautiful and ethereal she looked as the sun from the window embraced her figure. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, the soft simple makeup making her look beautiful. You felt like you were seeing an angel for the first time, you felt like you were seeing her for the first time. And it made her heart skip a beat. You noticed how she excused herself to her friends and she was now making her way towards your table, quickly you moved your laptop and notepad away, your fingers running through your hair as you fixed it and made it look more presentable.

“Hi…” Hyun-ju said shyly, looking right at you with a soft smile, you looked up from your notepad and gave her a tight smile. Awkward silence filled the air as the tall woman stood still in front of your table, you took notice and felt bad. You motioned your hand to the empty chair in front of you indicating that she can take that seat. Another set of awkward silence filled the coffee shop, the tension was so thick you felt as if coming to this cafe was a mistake.

“You look beautiful today.”

The words hung in the air, soft but sincere, making Hyun-ju pause. Her eyes flickered to you, but you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cup in your hands. Still, the familiar warmth spread through her chest. Hearing you call her beautiful always meant the world to her. It was a reminder that you saw her, loved her, just as she was. Yet, the pang of guilt was unavoidable. She had walked away without a word, leaving behind questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes caught the faint smile tugging at your lips, and something shifted. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.

As if on cue, both of you started speaking at the same time, your voices overlapping awkwardly. You exchanged startled glances before bursting into quiet laughter, the sound breaking the tension between you. It was a silly, fleeting moment, but it carried a strange weight. For a second, it felt like you were teenagers again, stumbling through the nerves of a first date. Or perhaps it was just the awkwardness of two people who once knew each other so well, trying to find their footing again.

You stole another glance at Hyun-ju, and the sight of her hit you harder than you expected. The ache in your chest flared up, a sharp reminder of the emptiness her absence had left behind. No matter how much you had tried to fill that void, it had never worked. And now, sitting here with her, you couldn’t help but wonder if that missing piece had always been her.

But words refused to come. Your throat tightened, the lump there stubbornly blocking every thought, every feeling you wanted to voice. The two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. Yet, in the quiet, there was something unbreakable—a connection that time and distance hadn’t erased.

You hear Hyun-ju clear her throat, you glance at her as she says, “I…I miss you, it’s been a while.” It made you smile a bit despite the hurt you were feeling inside, “I miss you too.” You said softly, as your thumb caresses the warm cup of coffee. You never felt this wave of emotions before, something so bittersweet. Sadness and hurt was evident on your face and Hyun-ju can clearly see it.

Your teary eyes locked with hers. “Funny, isn’t it? It’s been five weeks. Five weeks since I last heard from you.” Your voice wavered, though you tried to mask it with a frown. “And now, here you are, showing up as if nothing happened.” The words came out colder than you intended, laced with the bitterness that had been festering in the void her absence left behind.

Hyun-ju stood frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What could she even say? Would you believe her if she told you the truth? That she had been kidnapped, thrust into a series of deadly games because of her debts and her desperation to complete her transition? That she had watched countless lives end in horrifying ways, the weight of survival pressing down on her with every passing second?

You noticed the flicker of conflict in her expression, and it only fueled your frustration. “Look,” you said sharply, “if you don’t want to deal with this—us—it’s fine. Just say it.” Your voice cracked, but before you could say more, Hyun-ju cut you off.

“Y/N.” Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor in it. “I never said I didn’t want this. Or that I wanted it to be over. You mean too much to me.” Her gaze dropped, her voice softening. “You… you wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem.”

“Understand what, Hyun-ju?” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just show up and expect me to be okay after you disappeared without a word. No call, no text, nothing. Five weeks, Hyun-ju. Five.” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, your voice growing harsher. “Do you know how hard I tried to find you? How much I worried? Don’t tell me I don’t understand when you’re not even telling me what I’m supposed to understand.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the fragile tension like a blade. You didn’t want to sound this harsh, but the hurt, confusion, and stress had built up too much to hold back. It wasn’t just the absence that hurt—it was the silence, the unanswered questions, the sense that she had left you in the dark without a second thought.

The tone of your voice cut through Hyun-ju’s heart more deeply than you could ever know. Her chest ached with guilt, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She had thought leaving without a word was the right thing to do—a way to protect you from the chaos of her life. But now, facing the consequences, she realized how wrong she had been. Immature. Thoughtless.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore… that I’d be a disgrace to you, the way I am to everyone else.” Her words were soft, almost as if she was afraid of saying them out loud, afraid of the weight they carried.

Hearing her broke something in you. You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own confusion, that you hadn’t stopped to see hers. In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just you who had been hurting. She had been carrying her own burden of fear and self-doubt, silently tearing herself apart. And now, her vulnerability was laid bare, raw and trembling in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, Y/N,” Hyun-ju whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t be in a relationship with someone like me—”

Before she could finish, you reached out, gently taking her soft, larger hand in yours. “Stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care, Hyun-ju. I don’t care about any of that.”

Your thumb gently traced small circles over her hand, grounding both of you in the moment. “I love you for who you are. Every part of you. To me, you’re perfect—the most beautiful woman in the world. And honestly, it amazes me every single day that you chose someone like me to be with you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you gave her a soft, heartfelt smile. It wasn’t just your words that spoke—it was the way you looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered.

Hyun-ju let out a choked sob, gripping your hand tightly as if you might disappear. “I just… I thought that one day you’d wake up and realize you deserve someone better. That—That you’d see I’m not enough for you because I’m not perfect.” Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “This body… this body that I’ve fought so hard for, it’s still not enough. People look at me and see a lie, a joke. I thought maybe one day you’d see me the same way, and it would break me, Y/N. It would destroy me.”

Her words came in waves, each one laced with years of pain and fear. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight to exist. Someone who doesn’t carry the kind of baggage I do. I’ve seen the way people stare at us when we’re together. The way they judge you just for loving me. And I thought… maybe you’d get tired of it. Of me. Of always having to defend me, to fight for me. I thought you’d leave, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.”

Her voice grew softer, trembling as she continued. “You have no idea what it’s like… to constantly wonder if the people who love you will stop when they finally see you for who you really are.”

The raw vulnerability in her words cut through you like a knife. God, it pained you to see her like this. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and moved to her side. Kneeling down, you gently placed your fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet your gaze.

“Oh, love,” you murmured, your voice soft yet steady. “I will never, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” You brushed away the tears streaming down her face, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You are enough, Hyun-ju. You’re more than enough. You’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You gave her a soft smile, hoping it could reach the cracks in her heart. “You’re my Hyun-ju. The one who fills my life with warmth and love. The one who makes those incredible meals so I don’t have to spend a dime eating out. And the one who makes me laugh when I don’t even think I can smile.”

Your thumb stroked her cheek as you looked into her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t care what the world thinks, or what anyone says. I see you, Hyun-ju. I love you. Every single part of you. And nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

In that moment, you weren’t just offering her words—you were offering her a piece of your soul, a promise that no matter what storms came your way, you would face them together.

“I love you, Hyun-ju. All of you. Your body, your personality—everything. I love you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with sincerity.

You leaned in slowly, giving her a moment to meet you halfway. As your lips met hers, the kiss was tender, a gentle melding of emotions rather than just a physical gesture. It was soft but full of meaning, as if you were pouring all the love, reassurance, and devotion you felt into that single moment.

Her lips trembled against yours, and you could feel the faint taste of salt from her tears, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the wet trails on her cheeks. She responded hesitantly at first, as though afraid to believe this was real, but then her hands found their way to your arms, holding onto you as though grounding herself in your presence.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, her breath mingling with yours. “You’re my everything, Hyun-ju,” you said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. “Always.”

“I love you too.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “How about I buy you that favorite dessert of yours?” you offered, your voice light and filled with affection.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a reassuring squeeze before flashing her a smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that you saved just for her. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, one that told her she was cherished, loved, and safe with you.

As you walked out of the café, your gaze lingered on Hyun-ju, unable to help but admire her once more. You silently thanked the gods for blessing you with such a wonderful partner, vowing to do anything for her.

a/n . i told myself I was going to make a part two of mesmerized but I honestly got kind of lazy...and this prompt I could not stop thinking about it. This is my first time writing angst since i'm more of a writer who loves writing tooth rottening fluff....LOL

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thanosscross · 12 hours ago

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hiii are you willing to write thanos x reader during lights out protecting the reader? Would love to see how he would protect someone he cares about!! Thank you for taking the time to read this ^_^ btw I love your fics so much

Of course!! I love it! and thank you so much!! I love all of your guy's support!!

I've got you - Choi Su-Bong/Thanos x reader

Summary: During mingle and lights out, you realize how far Thanos is willing to go to protect you.

warnings: Thanos being unhinged murder asf

a/n: It's a lil on the short side, but you best bet once we get those last three episodes the Thanos stories will be much much longer

Playing a death game to try and pay off some of your fathers was not on your bingo card for this year, nor was being the obsession of a murderous purple haired psychopath, and yet here you were. Standing on a spinning platform, Thanos's grip on your wrist was way too tight for your liking, but he claimed it needed to be that tight.

"Two Players" The speaker box displayed happily, You were almost knocked off of your feet by Thanos jerking you to the left sprinting towards the room, right as you got into the doorway you were knocked onto your ass, spinning around by the sheer force of the hit. Before you could process anything your jacket was jerked back and you were being slid back into the room along with the guy who knocked into you. "Wha?.." Before you could ask, you flinched hearing the smack of the mans face smacking against the wall repeatedly before the snap of his neck, you looked over in shock seeing the man's dead body, and Thanos standing over him huffing loudly, splatters of blood on his face. "T-Thanos" You whimpered terrified you were next.

Sitting in the room holding your dinner, you watched as Nam-Gyu and Thanos move their mattresses around to be closer, you protested to them moving yours, but Thanos just lifted your mattress moving it close to his. You just sat annoyed until the lights went out, quickly being replaced by strobe lights, you watched as others moved around in the dark attacking others, as you stumbled back to try and hide, you back into a body that quickly held you in place, feeling rough long fingernails dig into your sides, you immediately knew it wasn't Thanos, struggling desperately, you heard a disgusting squelch noise, and the grip on your arms fell, turning around in shock trying to back you back into another person, this time their grip a lot gentle on your arms holding you place, as the body fell you saw Thanos standing behind the man holding a fork. Your leader grabbed you quickly holding you his chest as he walked you to their base they had set up hidden the best you could in a wide open area.

You hands shook, flinching anytime you heard a noise getting closer, why weren't the guards coming to help? Why were they just letting this happen, as you watched someone slowly creep closer you covered your mouth, trying your best to alert one of the guys standing in front of you of the person. You watched as the younger male, the one who Thanos had called a 'crypto-bitch' charged him head on, he grunted as they both went down, struggling against each other, Your breathing picked up as you watched Thanos struggle for a moment before planting his hands around his neck, you sat frozen, realizing getting away from this man was going to be impossible in the future. You watched as Thanos stood up smirking "Stupid bitch" He spat before turning to look at you "Beauty flower" He stated as he rushed over, cupping your cheeks with his hands, the same hands who just choked the life out of a man, he hugged you tightly before taking your hands in his "You're okay, I took care of it" He whispered pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you just shook like a leaf against his hug "Are you cold? Nam-Su! Give me your jacket!" He shouted reaching behind him to his friend "It's Nam-Gyu" You corrected him, making the man behind your leader smile sheepishly, earning you a jealous glare from Thanos. As he was handed the extra jacket he tossed it down putting his jacket on you first, and then Nam-Gyu's jacket, you tried to relax in the warmth as Thanos held you close to him, repeatedly telling you he'd never let one of thanos's girls get hurt.

Whenever the lights came back on, you were quick to lay on the floor, trying to stay calm as a guard had their gun trained on you, before you could process anything there was gunfire, thinking you were about to die you let out a sob, not realizing until player 456 started shouting that it was players fighting back. Going to stand up and volunteer Thanos was quick to yank you to the floor "Are you stupid, senorita?" He asked, you frowned a bit, you weren't sensitive, but through the games you'd like to say that you turned to value whatever Thanos thought of you, sadly. "N-No, I just wanted to help" You mumbled "No! You'll stay here and follow the rules to avoid being killed!" He demanded not losing his grip on you. You sat on the stairs for the rest of the night, Thanos's arms tightly wrapped around you as you watched Dae-ho rush in to get ammo packs before hiding, it was only a few minutes after that whenever the guards rushed in, shouting to get on the floor again, Thanos helped you lay flat the best you could before doing the same, you frowned looking over to meet his eyes "I've got you" He whispered grabbing your hand squeezing it tightly.

#t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader #squid game thanos #top x reader #squid game #squidgame #thanos squid game

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captain-hawks · 3 days ago

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18+, age gap

“you should date someone your own age.”

you mutter the words against karasu’s shoulder, face buried in the soft, black material of his t-shirt. and it’s unfortunate, because in your attempts not to look him in the eye, you’ve still subjected yourself to the familiar, dizzying scent of his cologne on each inhale now instead.

somewhere across the kitchen, the buzz of the espresso machine comes to a sudden halt as it runs out of water.

even if you wanted to get up and fill it, you can’t. because karasu tugged you into his lap at the kitchen table after you brought his still-steaming cup over, his arms around your middle and your legs straddling his waist, and he’s yet to loosen his hold on you.

the fridge hums, and the clock near the window ticks.

your heartbeat sounds awfully loud as you wait for his response.

you met karasu tabito months ago by chance, on a rare night when your friends managed to drag you out of the house and to a bar so you’d stop moping about your shitty ex.

and, well, forget about your shitty ex you certainly did once you found yourself making out with the handsome, twenty-something footballer that bought you a drink two hours later. it’s not something you’d normally do, admittedly. but there was something undeniably charming about the way he approached you, entirely dismissive of the hoots and hollers coming from what was likely the rest of his team sitting at another table across the room.

your shitty ex was the furthest thing from your mind when you stumbled through the front door of your apartment with karasu later that evening, when he gently batted away your hands as they roamed against the erection tented at the front of his jeans. when he gave you a crooked smile and shook his head before getting down on his knees right there in the entryway—like he’d been waiting all night to push up the skirt of your dress and drag the point of his nose against your aching clit.

he did let you wrap your hands around his cock eventually, only once he’d left a slick, satisfied, dripping mess between your legs. but he was still more concerned with your pleasure even then, even as you stroked him, his fingers coyly snaking back between your thighs to tease at your folds, his steady gaze raptly watching the way your composure began to stutter and slip.

maybe it was how long it had been since you’d slept with anyone other than your ex, maybe karasu was just good at figuring out what you liked.

maybe you were just lonely.

maybe it felt nice to feel desired, pretty, to be called beautiful with his lips pressed to the nape of your neck as his fingertips danced down your spine with the zipper to your dress in tow. to shudder beneath his touch, to smile and laugh against his lips, to come on his fingers and his tongue and his cock. to be fucked in the shower, to fall asleep in his arms, to lazily make out up on the kitchen counter with your legs around his waist and orange juice on your tongue in the dim morning light.

you’re not sure what you are now, what this is—

—why karasu tabito could be spending his time with any pretty girl when he’s not on the pitch (someone who’s not a decade older than him), and yet he’s here instead.

he’s here waking up tangled in your sheets more often than not, with kisses drawn along the curve of your jaw and shapes traced against your skin, with a soft, tender look when you press your mouth to the mole below his eye in turn—an expression that’s become alarmingly familiar as it clings to the shell of your fragile heart.

“oh?” he replies, interrupting your own spiral of thoughts.

“probably,” you whisper, fingers unconsciously curling in the front of his shirt.

his hands grasp your chin, lifting your face to meet his own. he looks serious in a way that makes your chest hurt.

“and what if i don’t wanna?”

you sigh, looking away. “i’d call you foolish.”

he laughs under his breath, caressing your throat as he turns your mouth back to his own, lips hovering against yours. “i don’t care what ya call me, ‘long as the words ‘mine’ are in there somewhere, too.”

#karasu tabito #karasu tabito x reader #blue lock #dee writes #rambling: t. karasu

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minniesfiles · 2 days ago

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BLOOM WITH YOU | prologue

After nearly three years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff

❧ WARNINGS; emotional talk, mention of alcohol

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.5k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍13 MARCH 2019

Wonwoo juggled the house keys in his hand as his tired eyes scanned the porch light flickering above. As the door swung open, you pushed past him with an exaggerated groan. The first thing you did was immediately slip off your black stilettos and drop them carelessly onto the hardwood floor.

You stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed onto it face-first, releasing a long, dramatic sigh. “Finally,” you muttered into the cushions.

The evening was long — way longer than you had expected. Your older sister and her husband threw a dinner party to celebrate her pregnancy. While it was wonderful to see your family and friends and enjoy the excitement of the news, by the time you got home, you and your boyfriend were utterly drained.

Wonwoo followed you inside, shaking his head with a small chuckle as he closed the door, locked it, and set the keys on the table by the entrance. The tranquility in your home was what you both desperately needed as the noisy evening grew longer.

“Rough night?” he teased, making his way over to you.

You rolled onto your back and glared at him playfully. “Not rough — just long. My feet are killing me. Why did I think wearing these heels was a good idea?”

Wonwoo smirked. “Because they look great on you. Totally worth the pain.”

You groaned again, this time throwing an arm dramatically over your eyes. “Says the man who spent the night in loafers.”

He crouched down in front of you, leaning over until your faces were mere inches apart. “I seem to remember you saying something about how much fun tonight was.”

“It was fun,” you admitted with a small smile. “But you know how my family gets. It’s like a marathon — Miyeon’s stories that continues on forever, dad’s terrible jokes, mum pretending she’s not already planning the baby shower…”

“And your uncle Han cornering me about investment opportunities for a solid thirty minutes,” Wonwoo added, his voice dry but amused.

You laughed. It was a soft, melodic sound that made Wonwoo smile despite his own tiredness. He leaned down further and tilted his head to give you an upside-down kiss on the lips. It was a slow, sweet gesture — unhurried, as if you both had all the time in the world. When you parted, you sighed again, but this time it was a contented sound.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmured with your eyes half-closed.

“I try” your boyfriend grinned as he straightened his posture.

He wandered toward the kitchen while leaving you sprawled on the couch. The sound of cabinets opening and closing drifted into the living room as he rummaged for something to snack on.

“You want tea or something?” he called out.

You lifted your head lazily. “Wine. Do we still have that red from last week?”

Wonwoo poked his head around the corner, an eyebrow raised. “You just spent the whole evening saying you’re ‘too old’ for another glass.”

“Yeah, and now I’ve changed my mind,” you said with a mischievous smile.

He disappeared back into the kitchen, and a moment later, you heard the cork pop. You sat up and stretched your legs out across the couch, wincing slightly as you flexed your toes. The stilettos had really been a bad choice, but they matched your dress perfectly, and you weren’t about to let a little discomfort ruin your outfit.

Wonwoo returned with two glasses of wine, handing one to you before sitting down beside you. You clinked glasses softly.

“To surviving the circus,” Wonwoo said, raising his glass.

You laughed. “And to Miyeon and her little bundle of joy.”

You both sipped in silence for a while. You leaned your head on Wonwoo’s shoulder while your glass rested on your knee. “Do you ever think about what it’ll be like when it’s our turn?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Our turn for what?”

“You know — for a baby,” you said softly.

Wonwoo took a moment to think, swirling the wine in his glass. “I think it’ll be chaos. But the good kind.”

You smiled, a dreamy look in your eyes. “I hope so. Miyeon looked so happy tonight. It’s weird to think she’s going to be someone’s mum.”

“And you’ll be the cool aunt,” Wonwoo added with a grin.

“Obviously,” you said with a mock-serious tone. “It’s basically my destiny.”

You both laughed. Your exhaustion was temporarily forgotten as you talked about the future. The conversation flowed from baby names to vacations you wanted to take before settling down.

“But seriously,” he said, his tone softening. “Did tonight…you know, make you think about what it would be like? To be parents?”

You took a sip of your wine, considering his question. “It did. I mean, it’s not something I think about every day, but tonight…yeah. Seeing Miyeon and how excited she is, it made me wonder what it would feel like to be in her shoes.”

Wonwoo nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “I think about it sometimes. Not all the details, but just…us. Having a little one. It’s kind of scary, but also kind of exciting, you know?”

You smiled at him, feeling your heart swelling at the thought. You could vaguely picture the two of you adjusting to parenthood together, having quiet moments with your child and laughing through sleepless nights.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It is.”

You curled up against your boyfriend, and he draped an arm around you, pulling you closer as you sank deeper into the sofa cushions.

“Hey,” he whispered after a while with his deep and gentle voice.

“Hmm?” you murmured and looked up at him.

“I think you’ll be an amazing mum someday,” he said, and kissed the top of your head.

“And you’ll be a pretty great dad” you smiled.

“Pretty great? I was aiming for legendary” Wonwoo chuckled softly.

“Don’t push your luck Jeon” you teased.

As the conversation drifted on, your laughter returned. When your glass emptied, you stood to refill it. Wonwoo hesitated as he glanced at you.

“You sure you want another?” he asked.

“Why not? It’s been a long day” you said, brushing off his concern. You poured yourself another generous glass and returned to the sofa, sinking back into the cushions. Wonwoo watched you closely with his own glass still half-full.

You raised your glass to your lips and downed the wine in a single go. Wonwoo’s eyes widened slightly as he watched the dark red liquid disappear in an instant, and he set his glass down on the coffee table.

“Babe,” he said gently, “maybe slow down a bit.”

With the glass rim still pressed to your lips, you paused for a second. Your face was unreadable as you slowly lowered it. Your boyfriend tilted his head slightly to the side as concern flickered in his gaze.

“You okay?” he asked.

For a long moment, you didn’t respond. Then, to Wonwoo’s surprise, your eyes glistened with unshed tears. You blinked rapidly to get rid of them, but it was too late as a single tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You sniffled and brushed them away hastily with the back of your hand.

“Y/n…” Wonwoo placed his glass on the table and moved closer, his voice low and gentle. “Baby what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

You shook your head and pressed your lips tightly together. When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” your words trembled. “It’s just…tonight, seeing Miyeon, hearing everyone talk about babies and families and the future…it made me feel—” you broke off, your breath hitching.

Wonwoo placed a hand on your knee to steady you. “It made you feel what?” he pressed.

You looked at him, your eyes searching his for understanding. “It made me feel like I’m running out of time.”

“Running out of time? What do you mean?” Wonwoo frowned, his brow furrowing.

“I don’t know,” you said again, your voice rising slightly.

“It’s irrational, I know it is. But seeing Miyeon, knowing she’s already there, already starting that chapter of her life…it just made me wonder if I’m falling behind somehow. Like…what if we’re not ready when the time comes? What if we never get there?”

“Y/n” Wonwoo’s voice was firm but kind. He took both of your hands in his, anchoring you. “You’re not falling behind. And we’re not on anyone else’s timeline. We’re going to get there when we’re ready — when you’re ready. There’s no rush.”

You nodded, but the tears kept coming. “I know,” you whispered.

“I know you’re right. But it’s hard not to compare, you know? Especially with everyone watching and waiting for us to be next. We’re not even married yet”

Wonwoo pulled you into his arms and held you tightly as you cried softly against his chest. He stroked your hair in a gentle and reassuring manner.

“Hey,” he murmured. “We’re in this together, okay? Whenever the time comes, we’ll figure it out. And until then, we’re going to enjoy where we are now. There’s no rush to get to the next chapter — we’re writing our story at our own pace.”

You nodded against his chest, and your tears slowed as his words sank in. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

He gave you a tender smile as his large hands cupped your face. “I love you, you know that right?”

“I love you too”

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lavenderprose · 2 days ago

Text

Emmrook Short: Rooftop Interlude

~~~

ALRIGHT well this scene doesn't fit the narrative of the fic the way I thought it would. Currently gnashing my teeth and trying to fit it in elsewhere. I'll just throw it up here in case it ends up being left on the cutting room floor. Have at it.

Emmrook | Explicit | Semi-Public shenanigans ahead

They are in Treviso, the coffee is strong and the stars are beautiful. Rook watches with an open, laughing mouth as Emmrich hangs from a zipwire and, embarrassingly, screams with both exhilaration and horror as he flies above the glass-calm surface of a dark canal.

When his feet touch on the ground, his knees immediately buckle, though they don’t hit the pavement. Rook jumps forward and angles her shoulder against his chest. His arms go reflexively around her and she laughs and laughs as his nose crashes into the top of her head. She smells of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling only a little under his greater height and weight. She pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, grinning as she says, “Hey, you did it! It gets easier every time.”

“Oh!” he says, panting, voice gone just slightly hoarse from the hollering. “That was…oh my, that was—quite something, I’ve never—” He straightens up, laughs, swipes a hand through his hair. Rook doesn’t move away, and he’s distantly aware that she probably should—the area they’re standing in isn’t necessarily public, frequented as it is almost exclusively by Crows using the vast rooftop system to move about the city clandestinely. That said, it isn’t necessarily private either. One could easily misinterpret the sight of them standing here, panting and wrapped around each other.

Still, Rook doesn’t move. Her hands find their way up his back, curled over the angle of his shoulder blades, and Emmrich can almost feel every movement of her fingers, every creak of her joints even through the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

“Lucanis went ahead,” she says, and flicks her fringe away from her face with a small, neat movement of her head. Emmrich watches as her mouth opens, her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue wets the length of her top lip. “He was—um, worried Viago would get upset if we left him waiting too long. Also, Spite was getting antsy.”

“Ah,” Emmrich breathes. “Well, forgive me the time I delayed us. I consider myself quite athletic, mind you, but overcoming one’s dread at the idea of zipping through the air—that’s quite something else!” He barks out another laugh, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“You did great,” Rook says again, and shifts against him in such a way that her hip collides with the front of his trousers. It’s purely accidental, and wouldn’t affect him in the slightest under normal circumstances—he’s more than capable of controlling himself, even with the feelings she inspires in him. There is, however, a great deal of adrenalin still coursing through him, and when her body presses to his—and one of her hands finds his chest.

“I am so sorry,” he gasps, taking a full step back. He’s embarrassed, flaming with it, and unfortunately it does nothing to ease his problem. There’s a wire crossed there—he’s never taken the time to examine it.

A moue of surprise curls onto her face. “That’s—alright. No, really, it’s fine—” She makes a grab for his hand as he takes another step back, and the grip she tugs on him with is shockingly strong. When he brings himself to look closely at her face, pushing past the mortification, he finds a sheen over her eyes and a high, pink blush blooming across her cheeks. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “Um. Here—”

She pulls him away from the ledge by which they are still, bizarrely, standing. There is a very narrow crevasse between the rooftops of two buildings, less than two full feet in width, and it’s into this crevasse that she leads him. They keep going until the moonlight almost doesn’t hit them anymore, illuminating only the silky top of her tonic-lightened hair and the metal notions on her gear.

Once sufficiently deep for her liking, she turns and pushes him into a wall. He’s panting, exhilarated and just a little alarmed, and she whispers, “Emmrich. Tell me, um. Tell me to stop, and I will.” Then her small hand reaches down his front, finds the outline of his erection, and tenderly caresses the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh,” Emmrich whimpers, head clonking back against the brick wall. All ideals of propriety he’s ever been taught demand that he tells her to stop—that he politely rebuff her advance, initiate an encounter properly, privately, or else give himself over to the silent longing that is his lot in life. He knows he should, and yet cannot bring himself to; he is weak, weak for her, and she is beautiful, warm and offering herself to him like a wrapped gift. The weight of her hand, her sweet breath against his neck—he can only welcome them.

“Sh, sh,” she whispers. “You feel good. Is that—do you like—”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, that’s—” He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Rook—please.”

Rook gasps against the crook of his neck, wet and hot, then she’s gone. His head spins as he processes her absence, and then her hands find him again—from below, and he looks down. Amber pools, so deep he could sink into them and never surface, examine him from hip-level. Her fingers are frantic, fumbling at the buckles and ties between the air and his flesh.

Emmrich Volkarin, who is far enough into his second half-century of life that he should know better, and still young enough that the world often manages to surprise him, stutters out a single word of protest—Rook, simply her name—and then can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I want to,” she says instantly, clearly aware of his train of thought. “Maker, I want you in my mouth. Let me suck your cock.”

“Okay,” he squeaks. “Okay—yes—that—Rook, darling, that button is a clip—"

He is stunned, overcome and so deeply aroused that he thinks his head might just pop clean off. Rook, who seems to know this, fixes him with a look of utter desire and he knows that whatever is driving her to do this, it isn’t something he needs to save her from. He joins her fumbling and, together, they free him from his clothes. The sight of his purpled, wet cockhead next to her comely face is utterly obscene, and it almost undoes him before he has the privilege of sinking into the heat of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, as she taps his cock on her chin.

“So are you,” says Rook, speaking directly to and possibly about his penis, but he can’t really hold it against her. He’s been known to appreciate the presence of a hard cock in his face, as well. The thought startles a chuckle out of him as she inches closer, settling into the task she’s chosen.

She shifts from her squat to kneel on his boots, keeping her knees out of the alley refuse, and his toes flex against the sweet, heavy burden of her weight as she takes him. Her tongue is clever, slick, twirling underneath the glans. Her eyes stay open and somehow, against all odds, his do too. Her lips are red, a perfect pucker around the veined shaft of his cock. Emmrich has always enjoyed congress in all its forms, giving and receiving, but the act of oral pleasure has always filled him with a particular mixture of shame and desire. Something about the baseness of it, the inherent submission of kneeling before someone and servicing them.

Rook doesn’t seem to do it as an act of submission, or even particularly an act of service. She gives fellatio selfishly, if that’s even a thing. Genuinely appears to enjoy it nearly as much as him; groaning around him, pressing forward until her nose is buried in the still-dark hair at the root of his cock, and fluttering her eyelids as if he can bring her to her own ecstasy simply by fucking her mouth. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about this—Maker, he has, and he’ll be judged for that someday. He’s also thought about his hands on her breasts, the curve of her ass in his lap, and the way she might taste. They aren’t thoughts he’s ashamed of, necessarily, because he would never breathe a word of them to her unsolicited. He’s red-blooded, she is beautiful, and it has felt for at least some short time now that they were hurtling towards this inevitably. Nevertheless, it’s shocking that it would happen now.

He considers himself a sexual being, deeply enjoys the act of it as both a source of intimacy and relief, and seeks it out when he desires it. It has, however, been a long time since he had the time or inclination to do so. She brings him to the brink quickly, and he can hardly breathe to signal to her his impending release.

“Rook,” he gasps, a hand clutching onto the nearest part of her—which, unfortunately, is her hair. He grips a handful of it far harder than he intends to. She groans encouragingly, hands spidering up to grasp at the backs of his thighs, and he bites savagely into his gloved hand as he spills onto her tongue.

She leans over and spits, which is one of the grosser things he’s ever found erotic, and then asks, “Do you have a handkerchief?” Her voice is quiet, now with the subtlest rasp. He immediately pulls out his handkerchief and offers it in trembling fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wiping her mouth. She tucks him back into his trousers, reverse-engineering the complicated arrangement of his buckles with only a little guidance, and then briefly rests her forehead against his stomach. His toes are beginning to go numb under her weight—a minor and extremely bearable pittance.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, curling a finger under her chin.

“Mm-hm.” Rook tilts her head up, eyes still closed, and presses a lingering kiss to his thumb. It reminds him that they have yet to so much as kiss, despite the taste of him now lingering in her mouth. “I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight. Give me a second.”

“Ah,” Emmrich murmurs. She giggles. “If you desire some assistance in that regard, I would gladly offer it.”

“No time,” she sighs. “We were supposed to be at the Diamond ten minutes ago. Spite will know what we’ve been doing, and I’m sure he’ll tell Lucanis.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmrich says, resting his head back against the wall. The stars are just visible between the eaves of the two roofs almost meeting each other overhead. They seem almost audible in their brightness. “Spite is more likely to smell the alley than the sex. We’ll tell him you fell in a gutter.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the gutter alright,” Rook mutters against his hip, and they share another giggle.

The meeting with the Talons is awkward. Their delayed arrival had, indeed, aggravated Viago de Riva—though Emmrich has it on good authority that this is by no means an impossible feat. Lucanis, too, fixes them with a vaguely disgruntled look. Emmrich returns it, not missing the flash of purple on the edges of Lucanis’ pupils, and can only hope that a steady, reproachful look is enough to dissuade Spite from inserting himself into the conversation. Despite his assurances to Rook, Emmrich doesn’t yet know enough about Spite to be absolutely assured that Lucanis’ demon counterpart won’t smell Rook’s breath and immediately take it upon himself to announce his knowledge of their liaison.

This, thankfully, never comes to be. Teia is predominantly amused by their obvious dishevelment, and Viago is still grateful enough to Rook for Treviso’s rescue that he lets any observations of his own pass largely unmentioned. Lucanis only says one thing as they pass through the Eluvian.

“…on your own time next time, okay?” Emmrich hears, as Rook and Lucanis emerge through the mirror behind him. He also hears Rook’s huffed laugh.

“Sure.”

Spite, emerging at last through Lucanis’ throat: “Rook. Your breath. Smells like co—”

“Ah,” Emmrich snaps, prim, because Spite responds well to firm guidelines. Misguided spirits are, after all, something of Emmrich’s specialty.

“Ugh!” Spite snaps, before fading back into obscurity behind Lucanis’ eyes.

“Well,” sighs Lucanis, rubbing his neck. “This has been…fun. I’m going home.”

Rook lets him stomp ahead through the strange brush of the Crossroads, giggling under her breath, and Emmrich ignores the stark sting of mortification on the back of his neck. When the tails of Lucanis’ cape are swaying a satisfactory ways in the distance, Emmrich slants his gaze towards her and mutters, “I think you’re amused by this, my dear.”

“They were going to find out anyway,” she sighs, and shakes a hand through her hair, falling badly now out of its pins. It’s been most of an entire day since she put them in. She pockets them as they come loose until, after a moment, her hair falls over her shoulders in a sleek, pin-straight waterfall. The shadows of her black roots are only just beginning to surface at her scalp. “We’re all living on top of each other. It’s like the Novice Watcher’s dorms all over again.”

“It was a rather, um, effective way to ensure our relationship becomes common knowledge,” Emmrich murmurs, hands twisting together as they meander after Lucanis’ rapidly retreating form. “There are Crows in Vyrantium who I’m sure will know by the end of the week. And with Spite knowing, it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m giving it ‘til Thursday,” Rook says, it currently being Tuesday.

“Mmm. That’s generous.”

“Emmrich.” She stops, hands buried in the pockets of her Watcher’s apron, and waits for him to wheel to face her. She’s frowning and seems to be actively engaged in the act of making herself smaller, like she’s bracing for a blow. “We don’t have to…if that was too much, just let me know. I’m not made of glass. I’ve been rejected before.”

“That,” he says, stern, “is far from what is happening here.” The idea of rejecting her after the gift of her attentions in the alley, as unwise as they may have been, makes him see red. Someone, somewhere, must have made her feel so utterly worthless at some point. Someone left her to think that her body could be taken for granted and her sexuality scorned. He should hope that individual never crosses his path on a dark night.

It’s only the intensity of his voice that seems to keep her from pursuing that line of thought. She shifts nervously, a sort of girlish uncertainty about her, and she says, “This is kind of how I am. Impulsive. I don’t always make great decisions. You should know that before this goes any further.

“Rook,” sighs Emmrich, and he closes in to grip her hands. “Do you honestly think that my sexual experiences are limited to dark bedrooms? Quite the opposite. It’s rather flattering to me that you witnessed my floundering and still desired me at all afterwards, let alone right that very moment.”

“Well.” Rook, posture loosening at last, slides her arms around his neck. “It was very sexy floundering.”

“Point being,” Emmrich murmurs, lips against the tip of her ear, “I greatly enjoyed the experience. I’ll admit to being somewhat…embarrassed, but that isn’t necessarily an undesirable consequence for something of this nature. Not for…a man such as myself.”

He waits for the meaning of his words to reach her, and that delicious shame drifts down his back when her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

He clears his throat. “Yes. So, darling, you did nothing wrong…aside from make us tardy for the meeting with the Talons. I do so abhor tardiness.”

“Right. So, next time, work time into the schedule for the rooftop blowjob.”

“Congress under the stars can be so romantic,” Emmrich sighs elaborately, and he knows her confidence is done faltering when she laughs.

He wants to touch her, to feel the promised arousal between her thighs. He thinks about it on a loop as they walk back to the Lighthouse, but she begs off when they arrive.

“I’ll fall asleep on you,” she threatens.

“Not a distasteful thought,” he murmurs, hands low on her hips. He imagines easing her to sleep with swipes of his tongue—a gentle orgasm leading to a deep, dreamless slumber.

He feels her shiver. “I want to. I wish…but I have so much on my mind. Viago is concerned about Antaam movements, Davrin and I need to go speak to Antoine and Evka as soon as possible. I need to think. I need…” She sighs, rolls her eyes. “I think I need to talk to Solas.”

Of course. He’s allowed himself to forget, however briefly, that the Dread Wolf still quite literally occupies her mind. Her slumber is never truly her own, never private. He wishes now, as he often has, that they had met in the Necropolis, before the world took it upon itself to attempt to end for the third time in as many decades. Or else that he could insulated her from the burdens of her station, at least long enough for more than a furtive rooftop fuck.

When they part at the bottom of the stairs to her room, it’s almost unbearable to watch her go.

“Rook,” he says, before she opens the door. She turns to look over her shoulder, and he says, “If you need me—”

“I do,” she says, and disappears.

#DATV #Emmrook #Emmrich Volkarin #dragon age

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claramelooo · 2 days ago

Text

CRIMSON REVERIE

The news came out that the world didn't believe!!! I really loved this chapter, it is my 'xodó' until now.

Please, read it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: During a camp you discover what your destination is.

Hey! Now i've a Masterlist

Dawn

The campus was abuzz with preparations for the traditional Camping Week, an old town celebration that mixed folklore, outdoor activities, and a touch of emotional torture—especially for the teachers.

You were in the library, trying to convince Yelena to join the camping organization committee, but she seemed more interested in planning ways to avoid sleeping outdoors.

"Camping? Sleeping on the ground? Eating canned food? Please," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "That’s horror movie stuff. And I’m not going to be the first blonde to die, thank you.

"You’re not even a natural blonde," Kate retorted with a grin.

"Which is precisely why I need to protect my artificial hair," Yelena replied, pointing to her locks as if they were a war trophy.

Bucky, flipping through a survival magazine, finally joined the conversation.

"I think it’ll be fun. Campfires, scary stories, fresh air..."

"And bugs, punctured air mattresses, and grumpy teachers," you added, though your excitement was evident.

"Well, maybe the grumpy teachers will make it more fun," Kate said with a mischievous look.

You knew exactly who she was talking about.

Meanwhile, the teachers were gathered in a room discussing the camping details, and the energy there was entirely different.

"Let me get this straight," Agatha began, adjusting the brooch on her outfit. "You want me to spend two nights in a tent, surrounded by noisy students and mosquitoes? Who invented this, and how can I curse them?"

"It’s tradition," Rio responded, always calm and just a little too enthusiastic. "And it’s important for bonding with the students."

"Bonding?" Agatha shot back, crossing her arms. "I prefer chains. More effective."

Bruce, in charge of logistics, raised his hands in surrender. "We’re not going to survive this if we start with negativity. Let’s organize everything properly and..."

"Sleep on the ground. Eat bad food. Have a nervous breakdown," Carol interjected, tossing her bag into the corner of the room.

And then there was Wanda, sitting silently, her expression unreadable. While the others complained, she was already formulating a plan. The camp would be hell for everyone, of course, but it would also be the perfect opportunity to test someone—you.

Somehow, Wanda would make it worth her while.

The arrival at the site was chaotic, as expected. Students stumbled with backpacks, teachers were visibly annoyed, and Yelena was trying to find a cell signal to post her outrage online.

"I can’t believe you talked me into this," she said, looking around in despair.

"Oh, stop complaining. Look how beautiful it is!" Kate said, pointing to the shimmering lake and tall trees.

"Beautiful? I’m sure this is where they filmed the first Friday the 13th. There—bet that’s where Jason killed his first blonde," Yelena said nervously, glancing at the forest.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows the blonde is the 'final girl'," Kate countered, raising both eyebrows.

"And that the real killer was Jason’s mom, not him. Haven’t you seen Scream?" Bucky muttered, dropping his camping bag wherever.

You laughed, but your eyes involuntarily drifted to Wanda. She looked far too elegant for the setting, as if she’d stepped out of a magazine, even in a simple coat. Her gaze met yours, and a shiver ran through you.

Principal Cowell climbed onto a makeshift wooden platform in the center of the camp, clapping his hands for attention. His white tank top and tiny shorts, revealing his incredibly pale and nearly blinding legs, didn’t match the overly serious tone he attempted to adopt.

"Attention, children, and older children disguised as teachers!" he began, spreading his arms as if about to deliver a divine revelation.

Yelena, standing beside you, let out such a loud sigh that Kate had to stifle a laugh.

"This camp," continued the principal, "is not just about fun. It’s not just about pitching tents or eating marshmallows. This is a rite of passage! An opportunity to reconnect with nature, with the ancestors of this town, and, above all, with yourselves."

"Is he serious?" Yelena asked, leaning closer to you.

"Serious enough to make my breakfast want to come back up," you replied, trying not to laugh.

Cowell either didn’t notice—or completely ignored—the chorus of mocking whispers and bored looks as he went on.

"As the leader of this illustrious institution, it is my duty to ensure that each of you leaves here with more than just mosquito bites and sleepless nights. I want you to leave transformed, enlightened, and…" He hesitated, looking at the surrounding trees. "…with all trash properly picked up, please, no littering!"

"And we thought he was going to recite Shakespeare," Bucky muttered, tossing a rock on the ground with a bored sigh.

"Now," Cowell said, raising a finger as if about to announce something grandiose, "we’ll uphold the traditions established by our founders. Boys and girls in separate areas. Oh, and for our LGBTQIA+ students… I humbly ask that you choose not to hook up tonight. Please."

A stunned silence fell over the camp, followed by a wave of stifled laughter and incredulous looks.

"He didn’t just say that…" Kate said, covering her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Oh, but he did," Yelena replied, laughing openly.

The teachers around were clearly divided. Rio shook his head with an expression of pure exasperation. Agatha raised an eyebrow at Wanda as if to say, Is this guy for real? Carol crossed her arms, clearly debating whether to laugh or intervene.

Wanda, however, seemed oblivious to the situation, her eyes fixed on you in the crowd. When you noticed, she looked away, but there was a glint in her eyes you couldn’t interpret.

"Now, spread out, grab your tents, and start setting up camp!" Cowell concluded enthusiastically, awkwardly jumping off the platform.

"This is going to be the best disaster of my life," you said, shaking your head, already imagining the scenes to come.

[...]

The camp was bustling with activity, students tripping over tent stakes and teachers growing increasingly irritated. You were struggling to make sense of the tent manual, which seemed like it had been translated from another language by an intern.

That’s when you heard a familiar voice.

“Well, look who’s decided to play adventurer today!”

You looked up to see Darcy Lewis, a university senior known for being the most sociable and quick-witted person on campus. She was wearing a wide grin and carrying a hammer to help other students.

“Need some help, freshman?” Darcy asked, tilting her head playfully.

“If I said no, I’d be lying,” you admitted, setting the manual aside. “This manual is worse than an algebra test.”

Darcy laughed and crouched down beside you, picking up the stakes and beginning to organize them efficiently. You chatted as you worked, sharing inside jokes and laughing at the disastrous situations happening around the camp.

The smile you gave Darcy was sincere, warm, and laden with something even you couldn’t quite identify. Ever since you arrived at the university, she had been your guide, showing you everything from the bathrooms to the dorms. And when you found out Darcy would be your roommate, something in your mind sparked—expectations that wouldn’t stop growing.

Darcy always had this relaxed demeanor, like nothing in the world could throw her off balance. As you worked alongside her, you felt the weight of her presence like an anchor amidst the chaos of university life. She was different—not just because she seemed to master everything with irritating ease, but because, somehow, she made you feel comfortable. Seen.

You remembered the first time you met her. She had shown up in the dorm hallway with an easy smile and a box of donuts, saying, "Welcome to hell! I hope you like coffee because no one survives here without it."

From that moment, it was hard not to get attached. Darcy was always the first to offer help, whether it was explaining tough physics concepts or just listening to you vent about endless assignments. She had this way of making any place feel a little brighter, safer.

Now, as she adjusted the tent stakes, your mind wandered to all the little moments you’d shared. Late-night dorm room talks, stifled laughter so as not to wake others, the way she encouraged you without making you feel dependent on her.

But there was more than just admiration there, and you knew it. It was the way your heart raced a little faster when she leaned in too close to explain something, or how you held your breath whenever she casually tossed her hair back, oblivious to the effect it had on you.

As you tightened a loose rope, you glanced at her, trying to disguise the lingering look. Darcy was focused, the tip of her tongue poking out slightly as she worked, her face softened by an expression of calm concentration. She was beautiful—not just in an obvious way, but in a way that came from confidence, intelligence, and the ability to make you feel significant in a crowd.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Darcy suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Like what?” You tried to sound casual, but you could feel the warmth rising to your face.

“Like… I don’t know, like you just remembered something really good.” Darcy raised an eyebrow, curious but with that playful smile only she had.

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it again, realizing you didn’t have a good excuse. Finally, you shrugged. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I’m just having fun.”

Darcy laughed, shaking her head. “Well, it’s good to see someone is because most people here look like they want to dig a hole and hide until Monday.”

You laughed together, and something about the sound of her laughter made your chest tighten in the best way, as if, for a moment, nothing else mattered.

But that feeling was also terrifying. Because deep down, you knew Darcy would probably never look at you the same way. To her, you were just a funny, slightly clumsy girl who needed help every now and then.

Still, what could you do? Ignore the way she made you feel alive? Pretend you didn’t want more of these moments? It was pointless, and you knew it.

Wanda knew it too.

Wanda watched from a distance, her arms crossed as she pretended to listen to Carol and Agatha discussing the evening’s logistics. Her eyes, however, were fixed on you and Darcy, leaning close together as you set up the tent.

Something burned inside her—a mixture of anger and a discomfort she hated admitting was jealousy. Every smile you gave Darcy seemed brighter than any Wanda had ever received from you. It wasn’t fair. And the worst part was the way Darcy reciprocated, so effortlessly casual and relaxed, as if winning your attention was easy.

“Who the hell is this girl?” Wanda thought, narrowing her eyes.

She tried to shake off the feeling, but the unease grew like a knot in her stomach. What did Darcy have that made you look at her like that? The thought tormented Wanda, and she wasn’t the kind to tolerate uncertainties.

With a cold determination, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her powers extend. Darcy’s mind was easy to access; she lacked the natural barriers some people built. Wanda slipped in effortlessly, sifting carefully as though flipping through a book.

What she found made her lips curl into a cold smile. Darcy felt nothing but fraternal affection for you—a genuine friendship, without any romantic undertones or desire. It was a relief, but also an insult.

Wanda’s expression remained serene, but her crimson eyes glinted with an intensity that betrayed her calm exterior. Darcy was speaking animatedly with someone, laughing at something, but Wanda saw only how that laugh seemed misplaced. Forced.

“She tries so hard,” Wanda murmured, a faint smile curving her lips. “But it’s not enough, is it? Poor Darcy…”

"You’re nothing special to her, are you?" Wanda murmured to herself, a red glow flickering in her eyes for a brief moment.

For an instant, the Scarlet Witch—her darker, more primal side—nearly took over. "Then she doesn’t need to be here anymore," murmured the voice in her mind. But Wanda took a deep breath and stepped back. It wasn’t necessary. Darcy was insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Even so, Wanda couldn’t resist the urge to leave her mark. She planted a subtle thought in Darcy’s mind, something that would make her hesitate if she got too close to you. A small shadow of doubt—not enough to harm the girl, but sufficient to keep her distant, allowing Wanda to feel in control once more.

The witch crossed her arms, her fingers drumming lightly as she scrutinized every gesture, every nuance. Darcy was an unfinished canvas, an attempt at grandeur that failed to capture the depth needed to be truly remarkable.

Inside her, a darker part stirred. The Scarlet Witch, primal and possessive, whispered insidiously, urging her to remove any threat to her position. “She’s nothing. An insignificant obstacle. Get rid of her. Y/n wouldn’t even notice.”

Wanda inhaled deeply, steadying herself. No. It wasn’t necessary. Darcy was no real threat, just an inconvenient distraction. Still, Wanda understood the power of doubt and how a tiny fracture could spread until it consumed everything.

She raised her hand, her fingers dancing lightly in the air as if weaving invisible threads. Her lips moved in an almost imperceptible whisper, and a subtle breeze swept past Darcy, like a gentle touch on her consciousness.

"Always the helper, never the helped."

The thought seemed to emerge from nowhere, nesting in Darcy’s mind like an imperceptible seed. She furrowed her brow slightly, as if something had brushed against her awareness, but quickly shook her head, trying to ignore the feeling.

"Little Darcy, a sidekick in her own life, isn’t she? Just... ordinary."

Wanda let the spell do its work—subtle, almost undetectable. It wasn’t enough to destroy Darcy, but it was enough to plant that shadow. A thought that would surface on the loneliest nights, when she looked in the mirror and wondered who she could have been.

Satisfied, Wanda stepped back, a slight smile of triumph on her lips. It wasn’t just power that defined her—it was control. And as she watched Darcy cast a distracted glance of insecurity at her reflection, Wanda knew she was in command once again.

When Wanda opened her eyes, she was calmer, but anger still simmered beneath the surface. She couldn’t bear the thought of you dedicating any part of yourself to someone else, even if it was just friendship.

As Darcy stood and laughed loudly at something you said, Wanda clenched her fists at her sides. The red of her powers glimmered briefly in her palms before fading away.

"This is only the beginning," Wanda thought. She couldn’t allow anything—or anyone—to come between the two of you.

Wanda turned toward the lake, her eyes fixed on the horizon as she wrestled with the conflicting feelings inside her. The sorceress within her constantly whispered, urging for more control, more dominance, but Wanda wasn’t ready to fully give in—not yet.

For now, Darcy was safe. But Wanda knew that if she had to, she wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever was necessary to ensure you stayed exactly where she wanted.

The campfire crackled, sparks shooting up into the star-speckled dark sky. The sweet aroma of toasted marshmallows mingled with the fresh night air. Students were scattered around, sitting on makeshift logs or blankets. Laughter echoed as everyone settled in for an evening of stories and fun.

Rio, with her contagious smile and an out-of-tune guitar, was leading the group in a singalong, struggling to keep up with the chaotic voices of the students.

“Come on, guys! Louder! You sound like zombies!” she exclaimed, laughing as she strummed simple chords.

“Louder and more off-key…” Agatha grumbled from the other side of the fire, rolling her eyes dramatically. She sat with a cup of coffee—seemingly conjured from nowhere—wearing an expression of pure boredom.

“You’re killing the vibe, Agatha,” Rio teased, strumming a chord for comedic effect. “Be happy for once in your life!”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, replying in her trademark sarcastic tone, “Oh, sorry. My happiness is stuck in the same place as your ability to play the guitar.”

The fire exploded with laughter.

“That’s so mean!” you laughed, pointing at Agatha. “I think you just lost your chance to be the night’s favorite.”

“As if I care about being the favorite,” Agatha retorted, though a small smile played on her lips.

Meanwhile, Yelena and Kate were trying to balance marshmallows on improvised sticks, with Kate complaining that hers was burning.

“That’s how it tastes best!” Yelena argued, biting into a marshmallow charred black with enthusiasm.

“That’s pure ash!” Kate said, horrified.

“Gourmet ash.”

Across the fire, Wanda sat with a rigid posture, watching the scene with a mixture of fascination and discomfort. The firelight danced in her eyes, making the green orbs almost ethereal. You noticed that, even amidst the chaos, her gaze always seemed to find you.

“Time for ghost stories!” one of the students shouted, excited.

Rio clapped her hands. “Great idea! Who’s starting?”

A skinny student raised his hand with a mischievous grin. “I have a story about Professor Harkness. They say she’s been spotted wandering around at midnight, talking to cats and—”

Agatha raised her hand, cutting him off with a sweet but threatening smile. “Finish that sentence, and I promise you’ll have the lowest grade of your life.”

More laughter erupted as the student gave an exaggerated bow.

Bruce, sitting a bit farther away and cleaning his glasses, finally chimed in: “Why not a science story? Something truly terrifying?”

“Terrifying? Like your physics lectures?” Yelena quipped, earning another round of laughter from the group.

As everyone laughed and shared stories, you noticed Wanda had a faint smile on her lips—something rare and precious. When Rio began strumming another lighthearted tune, you saw Wanda relax slightly, though she still seemed distant.

“Hey, Wanda,” Agatha called, her tone teasing. “Aren’t you going to tell a story? Something about witches and sorcery, perhaps?”

Wanda narrowed her eyes at Agatha, but there was something playful in her gaze. “I think I can do that,” she replied, to everyone’s surprise.

Wanda crossed her legs gracefully, the firelight casting dramatic shadows on her face. Her voice was soft but carried a weight that held everyone’s attention. She gave you a long, deliberate look—somewhere between predatory and curious—before she began.

“Once upon a time… there was a sweet, lonely girl.”

The group fell silent, the sounds of the forest around them fading into the background.

“She lived in a small village, isolated from the world. She was known for her beauty and kindness—a rare combination that made everyone around her admire her. But the girl didn’t want everyone’s attention. Her heart was set on just one person: the crown prince of the kingdom.”

Wanda paused, letting the suspense linger. Her eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"The prince was everything she dreamed of—strong, charismatic, and kind… at least in her eyes. One day, the prince hosted a grand ball, and the girl decided she would do anything to win his heart. But there was one problem."

"Let me guess," Kate interrupted. "She didn’t have a dress, and then a fairy godmother shows up?"

"That’s another story," Wanda replied with an enigmatic smile. "In this one, instead of a fairy godmother, a witch appeared."

The silence returned, even heavier this time.

"The witch saw the girl crying by a lake, her tears sparkling like diamonds in the moonlight. She approached—gentle and seductive—promising to help her. ‘I will grant you eternal beauty, irresistible charm, and the chance to win the prince’s heart,’ the witch said."

Wanda leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to an almost-whisper. "The girl, naive and desperate, accepted the pact without question. And that night, she danced with the prince at the ball. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, nor his hands. She felt she had finally achieved her dream. But there was a price."

Agatha scoffed, clearly skeptical. "There always is."

Wanda ignored the jab and continued, "The next morning, the girl woke up in a dark cabin, bound by chains of silver that shimmered like candlelight. The witch was there, smiling. ‘You wanted the prince, and I gave you one night. Now, your strength, your youth, and your beauty belong to me.’"

Rio let out a dramatic sigh. "How tragic! Poor girl."

"But that’s not the scariest part," Wanda said, her eyes locking onto yours again, as if the story were meant only for you. "The girl never stopped dreaming of the prince, even as the witch drained her life little by little. Because the witch’s true power wasn’t just stealing her beauty—it was making her long for something she could never have. And every time the girl wished, the witch grew stronger."

Your heart raced. You knew it was just a story, but the way Wanda told it—the intensity in her gaze—made it feel far too real.

"And what happened to the girl?" someone finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Wanda smiled—a cold, victorious smile directed at you. "She’s still there, in the cabin, staring into the mirror and wishing. Because some prisons don’t have walls, only unreachable desires."

The fire crackled, as if emphasizing the story’s end. Wanda leaned back in her seat, her eyes never leaving yours, while an uncomfortable silence hung over the group.

Agatha finally broke the moment. "Well, that was… absolutely depressing. Thanks for that, Wanda."

Rio tried to lighten the mood by playing a cheerful melody on her guitar, but you still felt the weight of Wanda’s gaze. She seemed to be daring you to react, to retreat, or to do something she could manipulate.

But you didn’t step back. And, for a brief moment, you were certain you saw the corner of Wanda’s mouth lift into an almost imperceptible smile.

The forest was cloaked in an almost absolute silence, broken only by the sound of your quick steps crushing dried leaves. Wanda’s story still lingered in your mind, like a persistent echo, and you felt like you needed air, space—anything to escape the weight of that intense gaze.

You walked away from the campfire, wandering aimlessly, the faint starlight barely illuminating the path between the tall trees. The air was cold and heavy with moisture, but it was better than being under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Hiding, darling?” Her voice came from behind you, low and almost seductive.

You spun around quickly, your heart racing. Wanda was there, just a few meters away, arms crossed, her hair gleaming under the moonlight. How she always managed to look so flawless, even in the middle of the forest, was a mystery you couldn’t comprehend.

“I… I just needed some air,” you finally replied. “And what was that story?” you asked, trying to sound firm, but the tension in your voice was obvious.

Her smile was slow, predatory. “It’s what’s going to happen to you,” she said, stepping forward, her eyes locked on yours. “Or do you think I haven’t noticed your ridiculous crush on that insignificant girl?”

Your stomach twisted, and you instinctively stepped back. “What? What are you talking about? Darcy is just my friend!”

“Oh, please.” Wanda laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. “I don’t need to read your mind to see how you look at her. That silly smile, the fleeting glances—it’s pathetic.”

You felt your face heat with embarrassment and anger. “You can’t talk to me like that! What do you even know about me?”

“More than you’d like me to,” she murmured, her eyes glowing with a faint red light.

The tension between you grew with every passing second, like a taut string about to snap. Wanda stepped closer again, and this time, you didn’t back away.

“Why do you care?” you demanded, your voice defiant. “Why are you so obsessed with who I like or don’t like?”

Wanda’s smile vanished, and something darker overtook her expression. “Because you’re mine,” she said simply, as if it were an undeniable truth.

Before you could respond, the air around Wanda began to shimmer with red energy. Her eyes turned fully scarlet, and tendrils of pure magic emerged from her back, writhing in the air like hungry serpents.

“Let’s see how far you can go.”

She rose into the sky with a swift motion, her silhouette stark against the darkness of the forest, like a vengeful goddess. There was no choice. Instinct took over, and you started running, your feet stumbling over uneven ground as branches closed in around you like living traps.

“You can run,” Wanda mocked, her voice seeming to come from every direction, “but you can’t escape.”

The magical tendrils lashed around you, toppling trees and ripping chunks from the ground. You leaped over fallen trunks and pushed through thorny bushes, your heart pounding with growing terror.

Suddenly, one of the tendrils struck beside you, tearing a chunk of earth and causing you to stumble. You fell, rolling through the dirt, and when you looked up, Wanda was there, hovering above you like a goddess of destruction, her face illuminated by a scarlet glow.

“Get up,” she ordered, her voice low and laced with authority. “Prove that you’re not as weak as you seem.”

Your body trembled, but something within you refused to give up. Slowly, you rose to your feet, your eyes locked on hers. For the first time, you realized that beneath all her fury and power, there was something else—a desperate need for control, for you.

And you decided it wouldn’t be so easy to give in.

The ground beneath your feet seemed to pulse, as if the forest were alive, reacting to Wanda’s oppressive presence. You ran, the sound of your own breathing drowned out by the eerie whispers of the trees around you. The shadows stretched, invisible hands trying to grab you as you dodged twisted branches that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Do you really think you can escape me?” Wanda’s voice echoed through the forest, almost soft but full of menace. “You belong to me. And I don’t lose what’s mine.”

You tripped over a root that seemed to move deliberately to trip you, falling to your knees. Panic rose, but so did a spark of defiance. Looking back, you saw Wanda floating above the ground, the red tendrils glowing like whips of pure energy. Her eyes were entirely scarlet, her expression a mix of rage and… something you couldn’t identify.

“Is that what you call a fight?” Wanda taunted, her voice sharp as a blade.

“That’s cheating!” you shouted, trying to buy time as you got to your feet.

Wanda laughed, a low and dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Darling, what made you think this would ever be fair?”

With a wave of her hand, the trees around you came alive. Grotesque faces appeared on the trunks, mouths open in silent screams, as branches extended like arms, trying to grab you.

You ran again, dodging a branch that almost caught your ankle. “You’re insane!” you shouted, but your voice trembled more from adrenaline than fear.

“Insane?” Wanda repeated, her voice seeming to come from everywhere. “Perhaps. But at least I’m honest about what I want. You, on the other hand, keep pretending you don’t feel anything. That you don’t feel me. That you don’t dream about this every day too.”

Her words hit you like invisible blows, each sharper than the last. Your heart raced, your lungs burned as you kept running, but those sentences echoed within you, cutting deep.

The dreams. She knew about them? About the images that haunted you—of the two of you as a family, laughing together, complete. A future you’d never dare to admit you wanted.

The confusion was overwhelming because, despite everything, there was something about Wanda that was impossible to ignore. An irresistible force pulling you in, like gravity, even as she hunted you like prey.

Your mind screamed to resist, but her magnetism was undeniable—engulfing, dangerous. And in that moment, you wondered if running was truly an option or merely a futile attempt to escape something that had always been destined to happen.

“I am not yours!” you shouted, more to yourself than to her.

“Oh, but you are,” Wanda replied, her voice now closer. “And you know it. I can feel it in the way you try to resist. It’s adorable, but futile.”

You stumbled down a slope, sliding clumsily as the uneven ground struck sparks of pain through your body with each impact. When you finally stopped at the base of a grotesque tree, its twisted branches like arms ready to grasp, you tried to stand—but it was already too late.

Wanda was there. Hovering over you like a vision of absolute power, her feet floating inches above the ground as the force of her magic made the surrounding trees shudder and groan.

“Tired already, darling?” she taunted, her voice silky yet laced with an implicit threat. Slowly, her feet touched the ground, every movement deliberate and purposeful. “I could do this all night.”

You gasped, your body trembling but refusing to yield. Your eyes met hers—burning red—and there was something defiant in your own gaze. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in Wanda’s face. The dark intensity faltered, and a deeper emotion surfaced—but only for an instant. “Because you challenge me. Because you were made for me. For love… or for death.”

She raised a hand, and immediately the earth around you began to move, as if it were alive. Roots and branches emerged to bind you, wrapping around your arms and legs, pinning you down against your will.

“Now,” Wanda continued, her voice low and carrying a calm menace. “Let’s see if you can admit it before I decide what to do with you.”

The battle was no longer just physical. It was a war of wills, an unbearable tension growing with each passing second. The air around you felt electrified, pulsating as if the very environment awaited the inevitable explosion.

The branches of the grotesque tree seemed to come alive, gripping you with relentless force and lifting you off the ground. You screamed, but the struggle was futile. Like a puppet on invisible strings, you were dragged closer to Wanda, who stood still, motionless, like a statue of pure power.

She didn’t smile, but the look she fixed on you was more devastating than any expression. Her gaze scanned every detail—the scratches on your face, the thin cuts on your arms—absorbing each fragment of your vulnerability.

With deliberate gentleness, Wanda lifted you into the skies with her—only the moon and stars bore witness to the tension between you. Her presence was overwhelming, and every movement seemed charged with absolute control, like a predator savoring the imminent victory. When you finally stopped before her, there was something almost tender in her expression.

“Let me see,” she commanded, her cold fingers brushing against the bruised skin of your face.

You tried to pull away, but the pain was too real, and her touch, as possessive as it was, carried an unexpected hint of care. Before you could react, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to one of the scratches on your face. The pain disappeared instantly, replaced by a warm, inexplicable sensation.

“You—” Your voice faltered, caught between shock and something you didn’t want to name.

Without hesitation, Wanda repeated the gesture on another bruise, then another. Each kiss was a confusing mix of relief and an overwhelming pulse that made your heart race. It was as if she was imprinting something on you, an invisible yet permanent mark.

“Why are you doing this?” you managed to ask, but your voice came out as a whisper.

Wanda paused, her blazing eyes meeting yours as if she could see not just this life, but all the lives you had shared. For an instant, it seemed she was about to confess something that transcended words, something that defied the very fabric of fate. Vulnerability flickered in her features, fleeting as the reflection of a comet, before disappearing under the unyielding firmness of her expression.

“Because you are mine,” she said finally, her voice low but laden with conviction that spanned eras and realities.

As if it were the only truth she knew.

Those words weren’t just a declaration; they were a primordial truth of the universe, a force that tethered the stars to the sky and kept the delicate threads between multiverses connected.

Your mind reeled, unable to grasp the weight of her confession. The relentless chase, the raw violence, the unexpected tenderness—all pieces of a puzzle that formed something greater than any destiny. The way she looked at you, as if every part of you was a long-lost secret, spoke louder than a thousand words ever could.

It wasn’t just possession, nor obsession. It was something as eternal as time, as life, as death. And suddenly, you understood. It wasn’t Wanda who bound you; it was destiny itself.

Dr. Wanda Maximoff, brilliant and dangerous, wasn’t just a woman. She was a force larger than this world, larger than any other. In her presence, you felt a visceral truth: in some inexplicable way, you were part of her. You were her other half, a soul her magic had recognized from time immemorial, as if both of you belonged to a cycle that could never be broken.

As this truth took shape in your mind, your eyes fixed on the dark horizon of the forest, where the night seemed to breathe in unison with the two of you.

“Maybe—” your voice came out soft, hesitant, but laden with silent certainty. “Maybe what the princess wanted all along wasn’t the prince…”

You paused, the silence now filled with the sound of distant crickets and the wind dancing through the trees. But most of all, it was the glow in Wanda’s eyes that stood out—capturing the reflection of the stars and something deeper, more intimate. She didn’t look away; instead, she held your gaze, as though she was waiting—or dreading—the end of your sentence.

You turned to her, and the emotion began to swell. The knot in your throat threatened to choke the words, but you knew you had to say them. Your eyes, glistening, met hers, which shone with the intensity of someone who finally sees a secret unveiled. With an almost imperceptible smile on your lips, you finished, in a whisper that felt sacred:

“…Maybe all along.” Your voice broke, a tear trailing down the corner of your eye. “All the princess ever wanted and needed… was the witch.”

Wanda blinked rapidly, but she couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks. The strength she had held so tightly seemed to crumble, and her breath hitched at the sound of your words. The depth of the moment was overwhelming, and the smile that curved her lips was both a confession and a surrender.

Your heart raced, not out of fear, but from sheer energy. It was as if the entire multiverse had stopped to witness this moment. Compelled by a force you didn’t understand but couldn’t deny, you surged forward—your right hand tangling in Wanda’s auburn hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers, while the other found the nape of her neck, warm and pulsating with the life that seemed to radiate directly from her magic.

Your lips crashed into hers in a kiss as fierce as it was inevitable, like two primordial forces colliding at the epicenter of a storm. For a brief moment, Wanda was still, perhaps surprised by the intensity of the gesture, but that lasted only a second. Once she surrendered to the moment, she took control as though it was hers by right.

Her lips moved against yours with a blend of possessiveness and precision, as though every motion had been rehearsed through the ages. You tried to match her rhythm, but Wanda allowed no hesitation. Her hand slid up your back, dragging her fingers firmly, almost as if mapping every inch of you. The other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, so close there was no room for air between you.

Your tongue met hers, and the shock of the contact was like an electric explosion. Wanda was not gentle but intense, like a flame burning without seeking permission. Every movement was deep, every action calculated to claim. She tasted you as if memorizing every detail, every flavor. You tried to respond with the same hunger, but she wouldn’t let you lead. She controlled the pace—sometimes slow and deliberate, sometimes voracious and relentless.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, pulling slightly, and it elicited a low sound, almost a growl, from Wanda. She pressed you even closer, your back arching into her. Her heat was nearly suffocating, the vibrant energy radiating from her body enveloping you completely, like a current pulling you into a whirlpool of pure desire.

Your mouths parted briefly, just enough to catch your breath. But before you could recover, Wanda captured your lips again, this time with even greater intensity, as if determined to etch this moment into the present and every timeline.

The magic surrounding her reacted to the kiss as if it had a will of its own. The air vibrated, the trees pulsed, and the sky above Westview lit up with a scarlet glow. It was as if the universe itself reflected the power of what was happening between you—a collision of souls that transcended barriers and realities.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your faces so close your foreheads touched. Wanda's eyes glowed intensely, red as embers, and your own eyes mirrored something between awe and desire.

“God—” Wanda whispered, her voice rough and laden with something indefinable. Her hands still held you firmly, as if afraid you might vanish. “Tell me you feel it too.”

You could only nod, speechless, because all that remained was the certainty that this kiss had changed everything. It wasn’t just a physical act; it was a fusion of two existences destined to collide—a moment where chaos and order became one pulsating entity. And you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you could never escape her—and, secretly, you never wanted to.

You opened your eyes just in time to see the universe react. It was as if every dimension felt the echo of that moment—a wave of pure magic and emotion spreading, connecting lives and stories in a single brilliant point.

Wanda, now with a smile that blended triumph with something dangerously close to tenderness, cupped your face with both hands. Her eyes still burned with chaos magic, but there was something human there too—a soft glow, a trace of vulnerability. “Now,” she whispered, as if speaking to herself. “Now I’m complete. Thanks to you, my soulmate.”

The weight of her words echoed within you like an ancient melody, a song you had always known by heart, even without ever hearing it. And as the multiverse seemed to bow in reverence to this moment, you realized that no matter how confused you were, there was no denying it. You weren’t just two souls. You were a constant, a truth that transcended lives and destinies.

The walk back to the camp was wrapped in a heavy, almost suffocating silence. You trailed a few steps behind Wanda, still feeling the ghostly sensation of the branches that had held you and her touch, which burned more than it healed.

Wanda walked with her head high, but her clenched jaw and tight fists betrayed something beneath her controlled exterior. The silence wasn’t just hers; you didn’t know what to say either. Every possible word felt inadequate in the wake of what had just happened.

When the lights of the camp finally appeared through the trees, it was a bitter relief. The distant sound of other students’ voices and the warm glow of campfires provided a stark contrast to the weight of the walk.

As you both emerged from the last line of trees and approached the center of the camp, one of the students ran toward you, his eyes wide and his face lit with almost childlike excitement.

“Come quick!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the sky. “There’s a meteor shower—red meteors!”

You glanced at Wanda, who froze immediately. She lifted her eyes to the sky, her lips pressed into a thin line. Something in her expression—a mix of worry and something almost… amused—made your stomach churn.

Raising your eyes to the sky, you saw what the student was describing. Bright red streaks crossed the night, like shooting stars, but different. More intense, more alive. There was something supernatural about their beauty, something that didn’t feel like it belonged to the natural world.

“These… aren’t meteors, are they?” you asked in a low tone, meant only for Wanda.

She didn't reply immediately, keeping her gaze fixed on the sky, but the tension in her shoulders was hard to miss. Finally, she tilted her head slightly toward you, her voice a low murmur: "No. They're... remnants. Fragments of my power."

Her answer hit you like a punch. It was obvious, really, but hearing it out loud made it feel far more real. Those streaks in the sky, so beautiful and surreal, were the echoes of something infinitely more dangerous.

“They won’t get hurt, will they?” you asked, the concern slipping out involuntarily.

Wanda finally tore her gaze from the sky to meet yours. There was something almost proud in her eyes, as if she appreciated the question. But her response was firm. “No. It’s only a reflection. They’ll feel nothing but awe.”

The student ran back to the group, shouting excitedly for more people to look at the sky. Animated conversations and laughter began to fill the camp as everyone marveled at the supposed "meteor shower."

You stayed by Wanda’s side, feeling the weight of the secret you now shared. Every red streak in the sky was a reminder of who she was—and what she was capable of.

Finally, Wanda broke the silence between you. “It’s curious,” she said softly, her eyes still on the sky. “They look at this as something magical, enchanting. They have no idea it’s something so... ordinary to me.”

“Ordinary?” you repeated, incredulous. You could hardly believe what you were hearing. It wasn’t just the tone in Wanda’s voice but what it implied—her apparent indifference to the power she wielded like a second skin, something you could only imagine and, even then, fear.

She could have killed you. As if you were nothing. A mere flick of her hand would have been enough to reduce you to eternal silence, to oblivion. But that wasn’t what she did. No, instead, she chose something infinitely more complex. More confusing. More cruel and tender all at once.

She kissed your wounds, not with pity but with reverence. Every scratch on your skin was treated as something worthy of care, something deserving of attention. Where the heat of her power could have left ashes, Wanda chose to leave solace.

You wondered why she did it. Why someone so powerful—so capable of destruction, so distant in her essence—would choose to bow to tenderness for someone so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You were no weapon, no threat, and certainly no equal to her.

Wanda gave a slight smile—almost sad, but with a hint of arrogance. “Yes. Power is... just that. A tool. Beautiful, maybe, but dangerous. Like fire.”

You stared at her for a long moment, trying to grasp the complexity hidden behind those words. But before you could respond, Wanda took a step forward, heading toward the circle of students gathered to admire the sky.

She was an imposing figure but strangely human under that light. For a moment, you wondered how the others saw her. As someone brilliant, respectable... but never as the Wanda you had met in that forest.

As she walked away, you found yourself frozen, unable to decide whether to follow her or keep some distance. Because, somehow, you knew: that night had changed everything.

The night finally quieted after curfew. The lively chatter of the students gave way to the subtle sound of wind rustling through the trees and the occasional crack of branches. You were in your tent, lying down, but sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind was still processing the walk, the hunt, the "meteors."

Eventually, exhaustion won, and sleep came without warning. And with it, once again, the dream.

You were in a vast field bathed in a soft golden light, and a little girl ran ahead of you. Her steps were as light as a deer’s, her melodious laughter filling the space. You tried to catch up, calling out, but your voice seemed muffled, unable to bridge the distance between you.

The girl suddenly stopped, spinning around to face you. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and the face that had been a blurry smudge was now clear. But it was her eyes that froze you in place. A deep, vibrant green, full of life and mystery. The same eyes you had stared into before.

“Do you know who I am?” the girl asked, her tone sweet but laden with something older, wiser.

Before you could answer, the field began to collapse around you, as if the world were dissolving into a vortex of red light and darkness. You tried to scream but woke with a start, your heart pounding wildly, your chest heaving.

The dream left you shaken but resolute. There was no more room for doubt or waiting. You needed to confront Wanda. You needed to understand what was happening.

Moving quickly and still disoriented, you got up and left the tent, your bare feet sinking into the cold earth. But before you could take another step, something caught your attention.

A light.

Red and pulsing, like a beating heart. It hovered in the air not far away, glowing with a supernatural brilliance. It was impossible to tell where it came from, but there was something about it that held you captive, made it impossible to ignore.

You took a hesitant step toward the light, and it pulsed again, as if calling to you. Your chest tightened, but even so, you continued. It was as if an invisible force was pulling you, something stronger than logic or fear.

“Wanda?” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted an answer.

The light didn’t respond but began to move, slowly, as if guiding you.

The camp around you seemed deserted, the tents motionless under the pale moonlight. With each step, the red light drew you deeper into the forest, and though there was something terrifying about the path, there was also a strange familiarity.

You felt compelled to follow. Somehow, you knew this was tied to the girl in the dream. To the green eyes. To Wanda.

And then, the light stopped.

It hovered between two ancient, gnarled trees, like guardians of a portal. Its glow intensified, and you noticed that, beyond the red, there was now a golden hue surrounding it, like an aura.

You hesitated, your heart pounding against your ribs. Every instinct in your body screamed that stepping through that invisible portal would change everything.

But before you could decide, a soft yet unmistakably firm voice echoed around you.

“You really are brave, aren’t you?”

You turned quickly, and there she was. Wanda, emerging from the shadows as if she had been there all along. The look in her eyes was intense, almost disarming.

“Did you come here to understand,” she asked, her arms crossed, her tone devoid of mockery. “Or to run again?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "I want to know the truth. About you. About me. About… all of this."

Wanda tilted her head slightly, the corner of her lips curving into a smile that seemed more melancholic than satisfied. "Then come," she said, gesturing to the red glow pulsing between the trees. "I'll show you what you want to know."

The walk to the cabin was silent. Wanda led, and the red light that had guided you before now seemed absorbed into her figure, pulsing from her fingers, as a natural extension of her presence. The forest grew denser, but you hardly noticed the trees or the uneven ground.

Your thoughts were consumed by what she would say, by what you were about to discover.

Finally, you arrived.

The cabin was small, with old wooden walls and a chimney that looked long since extinguished. It was nothing like the teachers' cabins at the camp, which were practical and modern. This one seemed pulled from a dark fairy tale, a relic from another time. There was something comforting yet unsettling about the place.

Wanda opened the door with a flick of her hand, and you stepped inside, hesitating. The interior was simple but cozy. A fireplace occupied the main wall, with some worn armchairs scattered around.

Bookshelves filled the walls, and a small table was covered with candles, crystals, and notebooks.

She closed the door behind you and sighed deeply before turning to face you.

"You deserve answers," Wanda said, her voice low but firm. She gestured to one of the armchairs, indicating that you sit.

You obeyed, trying to appear calmer than you truly felt. Wanda remained standing, pacing the room as if organizing her thoughts.

"My full name is Wanda Maximoff," she began, her eyes fixed on the fireplace as if speaking was easier without facing you. "I am… or was… an Avenger. One of a group of heroes who tried to save the world countless times. Some would call it heroism, but for me, it was always more complicated."

She turned to you, her eyes burning with something between pain and determination.

"Inside me, there is something I can't always control. The Scarlet Witch. An ancient and immense power, linked to chaos magic. It’s not just a power; it’s almost… an entity. She is part of me, but also something beyond. Something dangerous."

You swallowed hard but remained silent, absorbing every word.

"I've lost so much because of this power," Wanda continued. "My brother, Pietro. He died fighting for something greater than the both of us. Then came Vision…" Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath before continuing.

"Vision was… is… someone I loved deeply. He was a synthezoid, a creation, but had more humanity in him than many of us. He was destroyed, and I… I created a reality to try and bring him back. But it was a mistake. A mistake that hurt people."

She stepped closer, her eyes locked on yours now.

"The boys… Billy and Tommy. My sons." Her voice trembled with emotion. "They were real to me, even though they came from an illusion I created. I loved every moment of that, and losing them… it was like losing a part of myself."

Wanda sat down in the chair opposite yours, her posture tired.

"After that, I went in search of answers. I explored the multiverses. I created different worlds, different versions of myself and everyone I knew. Some were beautiful, others… terrifying. But in all of them, there was one constant: the chaos inside me."

She paused, and you noticed she was studying you.

"And then, there is you," she said, her tone shifting, softening. "You're not like anyone I've ever met. There's something in you that… challenges me, calls to me. As if it was inevitable that our lives would cross."

Your heart sped up, but Wanda continued before you could respond.

"And Seline," she said, the name echoing in the air like something sacred. "The little girl from your dreams. She is real, in a sense that transcends what you know as reality. She is a possibility, a piece of something greater. A connection between us, between what I was, what I am, and what we can be."

You felt your throat dry, but managed to ask, your voice weak: "We… who? Are you saying that…?"

Wanda smiled, but it was a smile full of mystery. "The two of us are connected. I don't know exactly how or why. But I know that Seline is proof that we've lived this many times."

The silence that followed was heavy, yet full of possibilities. You knew there was much more to understand, but you also knew that somehow, you were no longer alone on this journey. Wanda was there, with all her strength, pain, and intensity, and strangely, that gave you courage.

"Now," Wanda said, leaning forward, her eyes glowing intensely. "If you're ready to accept this, we can make it all happen. Together." Her eyes glowed red.

You felt like you didn't know how to breathe. "But… Vision, the boys. You already have a life here. How could I fit in? You're Professor Wanda Maximoff in this universe, married with children." Tears shimmered in your eyes.

Wanda remained silent for a moment, watching the tears glisten in your eyes. She seemed to be battling something, as if every word she was about to say required more than she had to offer.

"Do you think it's easy for me, too?" she finally said, her voice low but filled with an emotion that felt almost overwhelming. "Do you think I don't feel the same? That I don't wonder where you fit, or how I could give up the life I've already built for something I can't even explain yet?"

You tried to hold her gaze, but the intensity in her red eyes was almost unbearable. "Then why insist? Why continue with this if everything is so complicated?"

"Because you're here!" Wanda almost shouted, her control faltering for a moment. The scarlet glow around her pulsed, and the furniture in the cabin shook lightly. "Because even with all of this, even with Vision, with the boys, with the responsibilities, you're here. And every part of me tells me that you've always been."

The silence that followed was filled only with the rapid beat of your heart. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know how to respond to her intensity, but you also couldn't ignore the way her words seemed to awaken something deep within you.

"You speak of Seline as if she's an answer," you said finally, your voice stronger now. "But what about us? And everything this means?"

Wanda took a step closer, the red energy around her softening but still present. "We are the starting point. We always were. Seline is just the reflection of that, the proof that there’s something greater than these lives we’ve lived apart. Something that transcends time, universes."

"But Vision…" you began, but Wanda raised her hand, gently interrupting you.

"Vision knows what I am," she said, and there was an unmistakable sadness in her voice. "He always knew. I created him, but he’s not my destiny. He is kindness, stability. But you… you are chaos, like me. And maybe that’s the right thing."

You took a deep breath, trying to process it all. "So… what do we do now?"

Wanda smiled, but this time it was a softer smile, almost melancholic. "Now, we figure out how to make this work. But I can't promise it will be easy, and I can't promise we’ll come out of this without scars."

You didn’t say anything, just looked out the window—finally sighing as you saw the sun rising horizontally among the trees.

The dawn arrived like a whispered promise, the first touch of light painting the sky in golden and crimson hues. You and Wanda stood side by side, at the threshold of the cabin, watching the silent spectacle. The world seemed to breathe again, and even with the weight of the unknown hanging over you, there was something reassuring in the way the sun broke the darkness, persistent and unwavering.

The cool breeze touched your face, but Wanda's presence at your side was even more tangible. Her fingers brushed yours, a hesitant touch, as if testing the strength of this bond that now seemed impossible to ignore. Wanda turned her face to you, her eyes still carrying the echoes of the vibrant red that always seemed to dance in the depths of her soul.

"This is what we are," she said softly, her voice blending with the gentle sound of the leaves dancing in the wind. "Like the sun and the night. Always in a cycle, always chasing each other. But when we find balance, for a brief moment, we create something beautiful."

You looked at her, the first rays of sunlight illuminating the contours of her face, softening the intensity that so often defined her. "And when there’s no balance? When everything is just chaos?"

Wanda smiled, a small smile, filled with painful wisdom. "Chaos is also a way to create. It destroys, but it also makes room for something new to be born."

Her words weighed on you, as if they carried more than just a simple meaning. Maybe she was talking about the two of you, or perhaps she was referring to something much larger, something you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

The sun was now fully visible, spreading its light across the world like an artist on their canvas. And as you watched that spectacle, you realized that despite all the darkness, there was beauty in the dawn.

Just as there was beauty in standing beside Wanda, even when everything seemed so terribly complicated.

"Do you think we can make it?" you asked, your voice low, but filled with a vulnerability you didn’t try to hide.

"I think we already are," Wanda answered, her gaze firm and filled with a certainty you didn’t know whether to comfort her or yourself.

And so, at the threshold between night and day, between hope and fear, you and Wanda found something that seemed undeniably real. Perhaps it was just a moment, perhaps the beginning of something much larger. But for now, that was enough.

~*~

Wanted: powerful goddess witch to throw me against the wall and impegnate me.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse

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ikkyfics · 2 days ago

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Where the Sun Meets Love

Finnick Odair x f!reader

Summary: During a quiet night, Finnick finds a song and, without thinking twice, invites you to dance in the living room.

Warnings: fluffy, modern!au, est. relationship

Masterlist

The night gently fell over the wooden house, which seemed even cozier under the warm glow of the lamps. The salty smell of the sea came through the slightly open window, mixed with the sound of waves crashing in the distance. You were sitting on the couch, holding a cup of hot tea in your hands, while Finnick fiddled with an old record player he had insisted on fixing that week.

“It’s going to work, I swear,” he said for the third time, his tongue between his teeth as he adjusted something on the needle.

“You’ve said that for the last fifteen minutes,” you replied, laughing, but not taking your eyes off him.

Finnick always had this way of making simple things seem extraordinary. He wasn’t just fixing a record player; he was bringing something to life, as if every little detail mattered to him. That’s what you loved most about him: his ability to see beauty and meaning in everything.

Suddenly, the music started playing. It was a soft, nostalgic melody, the kind of music that felt made for slow dancing. Finnick stood up, smiling like a child who had just won a prize.

“I told you it would work,” he announced, triumphant.

You just rolled your eyes, hiding a smile behind the mug.

But before you could respond, he crossed the room in two quick steps and extended his hand to you. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” you asked, suspicious.

“Dance,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Finnick…” You laughed, placing the mug on the coffee table. “I don’t know how to dance.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into something more challenging. “Of course, you do. Everyone knows. You just have to get up.”

“I’m a disaster,” you insisted, but he was already holding your hand and gently pulling you up.

Finnick led you to the center of the room, where the music filled the space with a magical atmosphere. He held your hand with a gentle firmness, the other hand resting on your waist.

“Trust me,” he said, his green eyes shining with a warmth that made you forget any argument you might have had.

You sighed but couldn’t resist. It was impossible to resist Finnick Odair, especially when he looked at you like that.

“Alright,” you murmured, allowing him to guide your steps.

At first, you stumbled more than you’d like to admit, stepping on his feet and letting out nervous laughs every time it happened. But Finnick just laughed along, holding you more firmly and whispering encouraging words.

Slowly, you began to relax. He guided you so effortlessly it felt like you were floating. Your steps became more natural, and the sound of the music and his presence filled every corner of your mind.

“I told you, you know how to dance,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection, like a wave whispering as it breaks on the shore.

You felt his words drifting through the air between you, so close that it was impossible not to notice the warmth emanating from him. Finnick’s skin was warm, heated by the day’s sun, with a slight hint of salt and sea breeze. His scent was an intoxicating mix of the sea and something citrusy, maybe orange or lemon, fresh and irresistible, as if summer had chosen to live inside him.

His fingers intertwined with yours were firm, but the hand on your waist brought a delicate contrast, as if he feared you might disappear if he didn’t hold you with such care. With every small movement, you felt the texture of fine sand still stuck at the edges of your shirt, a reminder of the day you’d spent together at the beach.

You looked up to meet his eyes—green so intense it felt like they contained the ocean itself. The smile Finnick wore now wasn’t the usual playful, teasing one. It was calmer, more intimate, as if he was seeing something in you that the whole world would never understand.

“You only say that because you love me,” you replied, your voice so soft it almost got lost in the music.

“Exactly,” he said without hesitation, his lips curving into a wider smile, one that warmed you from the inside out.

The music continued playing, but it wasn’t about the steps anymore. It was about the way he slightly tilted his head, as if he wanted to memorize every detail of your face. It was about how you swayed together, in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the song and everything to do with what you felt.

Finnick leaned in, and you could feel his breath, warm and soft, brushing against your skin. His fingers slowly slid from your back to the exact point where your waist curved, and the touch was so light it felt like a whisper.

"You're so..." He stopped, as if trying to find the right word. But before he could continue, you saw the spark in his eyes, and it was as if he didn’t need to say anything else. The silence was more eloquent than anything that could come from his mouth.

You stayed like that, slowly swaying in the center of the room. It didn't matter anymore what was around you; the entire world seemed to have been reduced to that small moment. His forehead gently pressed against yours, and the warmth of his skin mingled with yours.

His fingers traced a light line from your temple to the curve of your jaw. It was a touch almost reverent, as if he wanted to map every piece of you carefully, so he would never forget.

"I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his voice so quiet that it seemed meant only for you to hear.

His words carried a soft weight, as if they were woven by hand, each syllable imbued with something you couldn’t name but felt deeply. The warmth radiating from his skin seemed to envelop you completely, like the sun kissing the sand on a summer day.

You tilted your head back, your eyes meeting his. There was a light there, a mix of adoration and tenderness, that made your heart beat in a way that almost hurt. He didn’t look away, as if he were submerged in you, navigating through every emotion that passed across your face.

"I feel the same," you replied, your voice almost faltering—not because it was hard to say, but because the truth of those words filled every corner of your being.

Finnick smiled, that light smile, but so full of meaning it seemed to carry the world. His hand, still resting on your waist, applied a subtle pressure, pulling you just a little closer. The music playing in the background now seemed distant, almost irrelevant, replaced by the constant rhythm of your two breaths, so close it was hard to tell where his ended and yours began.

"I need to..." He started, but the words died on his lips, replaced by an action. Finnick tilted his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, a caress so light it made your eyes close reflexively.

His hand slowly moved up, leaving your waist to rest on the side of your face. His thumb traced a slow, almost hesitant path along the curve of your cheek. You felt his touch, warm, with the slight roughness of someone who had spent the day under the sun, yet still so gentle, as if it was made just for you.

"You make me... so lost," he whispered, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours.

And then, slowly, Finnick closed the distance. The kiss began soft, almost shy, as if he wanted to savor the moment in pieces. His taste was a mix of sea salt and something sweet that seemed inherent to Finnick, as if it were impossible to separate him from everything warm and tender.

The hand on your cheek slid to the base of your neck, and you felt his fingers gently intertwine with the strands of your hair. He pulled you closer, the movement as natural as breathing, as if he needed it to exist.

The entire world seemed to disappear. There was nothing left but the heat you shared, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, and the way your bodies moved lightly, still swaying to the rhythm of the forgotten music.

When Finnick finally pulled away, it was just enough to look at you again. His eyes were shining, so green and deep that you could swear they held the entire ocean.

"I didn't know I could love someone like this," he murmured, his voice thick with a raw honesty that made your heart tighten.

You smiled, feeling the tips of his fingers still resting on the line of your jaw, as if he needed to keep the contact. "I think you just stole my words," you said, your smile softening into something more intimate.

Finnick laughed, a low, satisfied sound, before resting his forehead against yours again. "Then we’re even," he whispered, his lips brushing yours in a light touch, like a whisper against your skin.

You stayed like that, your bodies so close it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The sound of the music blended with the distant waves, but none of that mattered anymore. Everything you needed was rig

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #no use of y/n #thg finnick #finnick oneshot #fanfiction #fluffy #romance #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #writing #the hunger games #finnick x reader #hunger games finnick #modern!au #wrinting

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saioratral · 22 hours ago

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PARING: yuuta okkotsu x f!reader

PROMPT: stories- not a reality SYNOPSIS: giving my readers a reality check of who they are following

WARNING: insecurities and the biggest warning, me NOTE: i make a pretty good plot, netflix should be knocking on my door. wrote this to fuel my favourite emotion: depression <33 genuinely dont give two fucks if anyone reads this. i dont need comfort messages/asks or the 'don't say that about yourself ☹️' bullshit- im not asking for that + it's not gonna change how i see myself

the room didn’t even feel like a room to anyone who stepped inside. clothes messily placed on her chair, but she didn’t mind. her gaze was locked on the computer screen, her fingers moving across the keyboard as though they knew the layout better than her textbooks

she typed again, her imaginary life with yuuta. the little cottage by the river, ducks swimming by- according to her notes. her fictional self is her favourite self. she loves writing about her muse, yuuta being her escape from her heavy thoughts

but behind the screen, she was just a mess. she covers her insecurities with flattering words. how could she be pretty when the world only saw the mess of her real self? her online persona was a carefully constructed lie, a shield to keep others from seeing the truth. after all, why should she look ugly to them? she didn’t want to scare anyone away

little miss perfect, pretending to be smart for others. that’s all she’s good at anyways, people would remember her at least, use her and not discard her when they got bored. "grow a spine," they told her every day. but she didn’t. she carried no opinions, just a deep need to fit in

what she wanted, more than anything, was to be loved. to have friends, to be someone’s favorite girl, like the main character of a shoujo anime

she imagines herself in yuuta's arms, feeling his comfort, his imaginary embrace making her feel wanted. together, they watch the sunset from the window, the soft glow of the fading light making life seem perfect. next, they’re in the kitchen, she sits on the counter while yuuta mixes batter for her favorite cake. he let her taste it, but only if she kissed him in return

the scene shifts. now, they were in a fancy, high rise building for dinner. she’s wearing a pink dress, hair tied up with a matching ribbon. she’s so pretty in his eyes, the candle light dinner gets better and better and soon they are on their way home. yuuta’s jacket draped over her shoulders as they walked beneath the streetlights, stumbling upon an empty playground

she sits on the swings, pushing herself back and forth, a wide grin on her face. yuuta sits on the swing beside her, holding her heels in his hand as he watches her joy. he really does love her smile, she looks so beautiful in his heart eyes- of course she would be. she’s the writer. it was her world. she decides what happened next

call her a pick me, call her lazy, call her ungrateful, call her selfish, call her ugly, call her boring, call her cringe, make fun of her taste- she’s just a girl sitting in her room, writing silly fics about her yuuta for a mere 2 digit following of strangers

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

#this is more like a self-ship...?#i havent thought of a tag yet #idk if this is relatable but i just am tired of bottling everything in me + good plot if you ask me #like writer x muse or smth #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #ᡣsaioratral⋆˙୧⍤⃝

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nothoughtsjustfic · 8 hours ago

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Swallow - H.JS

🌳Who: Hong Jisoo (Seventeen) x female reader 🌳What: Smut. Fantasy. Fae Jisoo. 🌳Wordcount: 3.4k 🌳Warnings: Oral(male receiving). Inexperienced reader. Big cock Jisoo. Praise. Trickery. Morally dark character. 🌳Summary: “ Ever since you were little, your parents warned you to be careful of the tricks of the fae folk of the woods.

You never paid much mind to the warnings, assuming they were nothing more than stories designed to scare little children into behaving and keeping out of the woods.

A little too late, you learn that you should have listened. ” Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. Masterlist

You remember the day Hong Jisoo arrived in town almost six months ago, just when Mother Nature woke from her winter slumber, bringing forth new life, and apparently, a new, handsome bachelor for the women, single or otherwise, to swoon over.

You would like to say that you are not amongst that particular category of starry eyed maidens, but that would be a downright lie.

From the very first moment your eyes were graced with Jisoo’s otherworldly beauty, you were infatuated and wished he would look your way and bless you with one of his charming smiles.

For weeks, it seemed as if the man knew nothing of your existence, and you were far too shy to ever approach and introduce yourself.

Then one day while out in the woods admiring the beautiful blossoms of your favourite tree, a majestic old beauty deeper into the woods than you know any of the superstitious townsfolk would dare wonder, the man himself happened to appear. He stepped out from behind the tree so fluidly and without prior sign of his presence that it truly seemed as if he came from the tree itself; a preposterous thought that did not remain in your head for more than the time it took for him to smile at you.

You found out then that Jisoo had, in fact, noticed you from his very first moment in the town and had been wanting to introduce himself, but you never seemed to have interest in him so he had respected what he thought your wishes were and kept a respectful distance.

Of course, you had stumbled over your words to correct his assumption and let him know that you are simply too shy. He had smiled at you as if he thought you were utterly precious and promised that from that day onwards, he will always approach you first.

You had not expected him to stick to his word, but he did. Every time Jisoo saw you, he would approach, even just to wish you a good day before parting ways. Though sometimes, when the timing was right, the pair of you would be granted the blessed chance to stroll through the town side by side as you got to know one another.

Over time, your time together grew more frequent and adventurous.

It turns out that Jisoo knows an awful lot about a variety of plant life and the life within the forest; from the life cycle of the caterpillar, to the diet of sparrows and foxes alike.

You had never known someone so knowledgeable on the woodlands and became so enchanted by everything he taught you. You were always so eager for more information to put into use in order to point out plants and little creatures, which you had never noticed before, and proudly recite the knowledge the man had imparted on you during your woodland walks.

So your town strolls quickly diverted to the woods to continue the casual lessons that inevitably always gravitated towards that very same tree under which you first met; it quickly became your official meeting spot and a truly a special place for you, more than it already was.

Now that summer is nearing its end and the days turning colder, you worry over what you can do to keep Jisoo’s attention solely on you for hours at a time when it will soon be too cold to be out in the woods.

As it turns out, you need not worry about the weather nor his attention, Jisoo has a plan in mind to solve both issues. Though there is another reason you should worry, you just are not aware of that yet.

You know from the moment you meet Jisoo at the tree that something is different about today. He is standing in wait for you beside the already arranged, familiar blanket, which he always brings along for the pair of you to sit on side by side with your hand securely in his and a blush on your cheeks.

Though today, something about the happy glint in his eyes does not quite sit right with you when you first see him. Yet when he steps closer to you and out of the sun’s rays, the glint vanishes, so you tell yourself it is simply a trick of the light.

After sitting side by side with your fingers laced with his own on his thigh closest to you and your head resting on his shoulder, you feel something shift in the air as he sighs.

“My love, I fear I must tell you some news,” he says softly as to not entirely ruin the calm content of the woods around you.

“Bad news?”

“I am afraid so,” is his confirmation.

You let out a sigh of your own and take a moment steel your nerves before straightening up and turning your body slightly to look at him better where he’s seated on your right and leaning back against the bark of the tree. “What is it, Jisoo?”

“It is time for me to move on.”

Your heart immediately drops into your stomach. It takes you a few attempts to speak, only managing to open and close your mouth absurdly in shock for a handful of seconds. “Move on? From me?”

“No, my love, I do not mean from you in particular. Though…” He sighs again and lifts your connected hands up to his mouth so that he can press his lips to the back of your hand. “I always intended to stay only for spring, I meant to leave come summer but I became enamoured with you and found myself unable to leave as planned.”

“Then-then you can stay longer. You remained once before; you can continue to stay here by my side.”

“I cannot, my love. I must leave.” He lifts his head to look at you with a pained gaze that you know in your heart means that there is nothing you can do or say to keep Jisoo here with you.

“I see,” you whisper as you feel your throat start to thicken with impending tears. “I cannot join you?”

“You wish to?”

“I never want to be without you, Jisoo. I love you with everything in me.”

“My precious, sweet, darling,” he breathes out and reaches up with his free hand to tenderly cup your cheek. “How did I become so lucky to gain your attention and affection?”

“By being the kindest, warm hearted man to have ever graced this world with his presence.” He chuckles softly at your honest words and leans closer slightly, making your heart shoot back up into place and thrum rapidly with nervous anticipation.

In all the months you have been meeting Jisoo, he has never once tried to kiss you, even holding your hand took some time to build up to, so this is rightfully partially exciting and partially utterly nerve-wracking.

“May I kiss you?” His request is so softly spoken that it meets your ears on a gentle breeze that sends prickles across your skin. You do not even have to think before nodding in consent. Jisoo smiles that same fond, crinkled eyed smile and strokes his thumb over your cheekbone before he closes the distance and tenderly presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet, simple, barely a few seconds of a motionless press of his soft lips against your own, before he pulls back to honour you with another beautiful, little smile as his thumb brushes over your blush adoringly.

“I have been wanting to do that for such a long time now,” he admits.

“Really?” You can barely talk above a whisper; your body is still so full of nerves and a madly thrumming heart that there is no space left for a louder voice. Though the two of you are so close together that you need not talk any louder for Jisoo to hear you so clearly; as proven when he hums softly in confirmation to your words. “Oh, then perhaps…perhaps it would be wise to make up for lost time?” You suggest shyly, glancing away until he taps his thumb against your bottom lip and draws your suddenly wide eyes back to him.

“That sounds very wise to me, my love,” Jisoo confirms in a lower tone than you have heard him speak in before; it sends a shock of something warm through your body that you have little time to ruminate on before his lips are once again on yours.

This second kiss is leagues different from the first.

Jisoo’s lips slot against yours in a way that feels intentional from the first touch; his head tilts further as his mouth moves slowly, thumb gently prying your jaw to encourage you to follow his movements.

Understandably, your response is hesitant and timid; you have never kissed a man before, let alone like this so you are not sure what exactly to do, nor if you are doing it correctly when you try. But Jisoo makes soft little reassuring sounds and strokes his thumb soothingly over your cheek, causing you to gradually relax and melt into the kiss.

Every time you think the kiss is over as the man pulls back a little and opens his eyes just enough to look at your gradually darkening lips, he simply takes a few breaths then leans back in to claim your mouth all over again.

After a few times, you realise that Jisoo has no intentions whatsoever of letting you escape his hungry lips, not that you wish to. You would spend an eternity discovering all the ways his mouth can dance with your own if given the chance.

It is when your feel his tongue slide against your lip that you truly lose your ability to think coherently and whimper softly while opening your mouth wider to allow the wet muscle to enter your mouth expertly. You try to match his motions, allowing your tongue to curiously search out his own, earning soft, pleased groans from the man, which makes your body tremble a little with excitement and rapidly growing arousal.

How long you kiss for, how long your tongues roll and slide together before you are both forced to break to refill achingly empty lungs, is entirely beyond you. It is not even the last thing on your mind right now; time has simply ceased to exist in your heated, private bubble with Jisoo in the deepest parts of the woods with the grand tree watching over you.

“My love,” Jisoo murmurs breathlessly after a handful of seconds of laboured breathing, breaths mingling with his forehead pressed firmly to yours and his hand still holding your jaw securely. “I must ask for something from you.”

“Anything,” you reply with a heavy exhale and not an ounce of hesitation.

Jisoo leans back and flutters open his eyes to peer at you. As you open your eyes upon feeling his gaze on you, you see a darkness in his eyes that sends shivers down your spine. Shivers you assume mean excitement, arousal; you are not as in touch with your instincts as you should be right now thanks to Jisoo’s skilled tongue swiping away all rational thought.

“Anything?” He repeats, lips slowly lifting into the start of a pleased smirk. “Promise?”

“Whatever you want; I will do anything for you,” you promise with a nod.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet darling,” he coos and leans over to press a final sweet kiss to your lips before letting you go to get to his feet.

“Wh-where are you going?” You panic, feeling thrown off by the man suddenly getting up and try to get to your own feet, though you only manage to get to your knees before his hand is on the top of your head and keeping you there in place.

“Nowhere, my love. You stay just like that; this is perfect for what I want,” he encourages and brushes his fingers through your hair slightly before pulling his hands to himself.

You are utterly clueless about what he means, what he could want from you, and just stare up at his face perplexed, earning a little amused chuckle from the man. Yet he says nothing to explain.

Catching his arms moving in your peripheral, you lower your gaze downwards and realise that he is unlacing his trousers where he stands in front of you. Now that your attention is in the right place, you can see the obscene bulge of his hard cock in his trousers and it makes your hot body heat up feeling both beyond shy and aroused.

“Hm, expected you to divert your gaze,” Jisoo comments as he tugs open his trousers further and lifts his neatly tucked shirt out of the way to reveal that he has entirely forgone underwear as a teasing glimpse of his most intimate of areas meets your wide eyes.

“Do-do you wan-want me to?” You stammer and start to tilt your head back to easier look up at him, yet he puts one of his big hands back on top of your head to keep your focus angled to where he is pulling his cock from his trousers, making you gasp softly.

It is the first time you have ever seen a man’s nudity, let alone one in such an aroused state, so you cannot be certain but you truly believe that all men cannot be so well endowed as Jisoo. If all men are quite this big, then you cannot believe that so many women would be willing to take such girth for reason past reproductive necessity.

Then again, if all men were as beautiful as Jisoo, you think it would be much more understandable for a woman to want to be split open by such a large cock.

“No, my love, I want you to look; how else are you doing to take my cock into that pretty mouth of yours if your attention is elsewhere, hm?”

You swallow thickly, nervous yet excited when he steps closer, cock in his free hand as he strokes it slowly. “M-my mouth?”

“Yes, sweet girl, your mouth. You said whatever I want, you promised me, so open up and let me in.” Jisoo stops directly in front of you, so close that his crotch is almost in your face and then he leads the tip of his cock to your mouth and taps your slightly parted lips. “Come on, sweet thing, open.”

Tentatively, you open your mouth slightly, then a little wider when his cock presses more incessantly against your lower lip, smearing the wetness from the tip against your flesh.

“That’s it, good girl,” he coos as you open your mouth wide enough that he can slide the tip of his cock onto your tongue. The praise makes the flush on your cheeks darken happily as you lift your gaze as best as you can with his hand on the top of your head and his cock in your mouth, to peer at him. “Oh, don’t you look beautiful like this,” he breathes out, sounding truly taken by the sight of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

A pleases hum tries to leave your mouth, though with your lips spread around his girth the sound simply vibrates against his sensitive skin and makes him hiss as he lets go of his cock to plant his palm against the tree at your back while pushing further into your mouth and forcing you to accept the intrusion with his other hand moving to thread his fingers into your hair.

It is a lot; to have your mouth filled in a way you never expected, with his taste starting to coat your tongue in a flavour you are genuinely rather pleased by, while he towers over you until his broad frame blocks the sun from meeting you.

“You just sit there and look pretty for me darling, I will do all the work,” he says and grins a little when you try to nod slightly and close your eyes. “Good girl.”

At first, Jisoo is careful as he slowly works his thick length in and out of your mouth; never pulling out entirely nor pressing in too far knowing that you have never done such a thing before so he cannot rush and risk hurting you. That would ruin the experience.

Patiently, the man leisurely uses your hot, wet mouth for his own pleasure, lust heavy gaze glued on where his slick cock slips through the ring of your lips. He can see you fidgeting in his peripheral, darkly flushed cheeks clearly confirming your arousal, yet he ignores it and focuses on steadily increasing the speed and depth at which he feeds you his cock in a way that causes you no discomfort.

As much as Jisoo is a truly patient man, he wishes he could fuck into your pretty, little mouth with fervour, force his cock into your throat and use you until he can pull out and paint your features with his cum. The only reason he can hold back from just taking what his body aches for is the thought that he will have the chance to use you however he deems fit in the future.

The mental reminder that you have promised him whatever he wants, that you have fallen for his charm and perfect smiles sends Jisoo’s arousal rushing hot and heavy through his body.

“My love,” he pants when he feels himself close to the edge. “Whatever I want, right? You promised whatever I want,” he reminds. You whine a little, needy, but what for you do not even know. It makes him chuckle lowly. “Then swallow.”

It does not register in your fuzzy mind just what that means until he moans, curling over your head a little as he forces the tip of his cock to the entrance of your throat where you feel liquid suddenly spurting out and you realise he wants you to swallow his cum.

You feel utterly filthy in an oddly pleasant way as you obey, working your throat as best as you can to swallow down everything he gives you; at least you try to but he pulls back before you can lave your tongue over his length to claim the last drops.

As Jisoo grasps his cock in his hand to smear the last of his cum over your bruised, still wide open lips, he starts to laugh. Slowly at first, but it builds and builds until he is laughing heartily and sounding so pleased in a way that does not sit right with you.

You open your eyes to look up at him yet have to close them again as the sunlight harshly pierces your eyes. It does not make sense for it to be so bright now when it was not before, especially with the man still standing in front of you and blocking the sun.

You are forced to flutter your eyes for a little as your eyes grow used to the strange, over saturated light before you can keep them open and look up at Jisoo. He too looks different, colours a little brighter as if he has captured the sun in his very skin.

He is still laughing when your confused eyes meet his joyfully manic ones.

“Wh-what’s funny?” You question, voice slightly hoarse even if he had been gentle with you and barely entered your throat, yet there is an unease growing in your chest and spiralling bigger and darker down into your stomach making your voice waver weakly.

This is all wrong; you no longer feel like you are somewhere known and safe to you, both in these woods and with the man in front of you.

“Oh, my sweet, little love,” he coos around his laughter and moves his hand from your hair to cup your jaw and tilt your head backwards to meet his gaze better, to let you see the darkness flit across it; the same darkness you had earlier assumed to be nothing more than arousal.

The same darkness you should have taken as warning.

“Were you never taught the most important rule to abide by in these woods?” His head tilts slightly as he smiles a little too big down at you, showing almost all of his too perfect teeth. “Do you not know to never consume anything given to you by a fae?”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

#wkcnet #svthub #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #dovenet #svt fic #hong jisoo x reader #joshua hong x reader #hong jisoo smut #joshua hong smut #hong jisoo fanfic #joshua hong fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic

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graciedollie · 1 day ago

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hii hi, could you make one where grayson and reader are wives and work together as council guards until one day reader arrives injured and grayson becomes extremely worried. I would really be happy if you did that! ❤️‍🩹, I love your writing, do it in your own time!!

Complications

Pair: Grayson x FemCouncilGuard!Reader

Summary: It was a pretty normal day while you were doing your normal duties, having to be sent to make an arrest in the grimy streets of Zaun. The arrest wasn’t going to go smooth obviously, but it definitely wasn’t supposed to go this way either.

Warning(s): Description of injuries (stab wound) ,mention of bleeding, swearing (ofc), reader being stubborn, Grayson scolding reader, fluff added too ofc <3, reader is kind of a smartass

A/N: I love writing for my bbg <3 also feel free to leave any requests

The sun was slowly turning in for the late evening, casting a beautiful hue of orange and purple across the hazy skies. You were handling your usual duties before you were requested by the councils, figuring it would be about handling a certain case. It didn’t take you long before you stumbled upon the large room, seeing all the members and your wife, standing attentively.

Grayson looked over at you as you stood next to her, flashing you a small smile before turning her serious focus back to the council members before one of them spoke, who happened to be council Mel Medarda.

“There have been reports of a group—preferably from the Undercity—causing havoc among our city, leading to the people being understandably upset. I trust that you will sort this problem, yes?”

Before Grayson could even speak, you quickly agreed with a swift nod and eager words. “Yes ma’am, of course. I can assure you this little mishap will be sorted.” In return, Mel gave you a soft smile and a firm nod before dismissing the both of you.

As the two of you soon left and walked along the long hallways, you were suddenly stopped by the large hands of your wife on your shoulders. You turned to look at her with a confused expression before she started to speak, “Sweetheart, I think it’s best if you let me take this one with you, yes? I know you’re well on your own, but you haven’t gone much in the Undercity as much as me.”

You couldn’t help, but grunt in slight irritation at her words, knowing she only worried for your safety—you were her wife for God’s sake. “Baby, I can do just as fine on my own. I’ll just take Marcus and backup with me, it’ll be fine.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, obviously not fond of the idea of not being partnered up with you for this case—especially such as these. Her eyes stared in yours intensely before softening, nodding slowly with a sigh.

“Alright…but, if I hear one bad thing goes down there..”

“It’ll be fine, Honey. I can handle it, plus I’ll have hep with me.

How hard could this possibly be? All you were doing is going down to the Lanes and making an arrest, nothing out of the ordinary.

Oh honey, you were wrong.

The night took over the golden sky, leaving the sky blanketed in a dark cover. Venturing into Zaun wasn’t the most extravagant thing, if you’re being honest. It was grimy. People giving you dirty looks. And definitely different from Piltover. Neon lights and signs crowded the dark streets, every angle except the dingy alleys.

The more and more you ventured into the streets, the more you realized how this arrest was going to be anything, but easy. You and your crew walked through the streets, looking around with hardened gaze at the peering standbys—obviously noticing the fiery glares.

Based on the information you and your crew were given, it seem that the group hung around a certain abandoned building—which didn’t take too long to stumble upon. You glared at the group, seeing how their teeth were yellow and how buffed they looked.

“We can make this easy or not so easy. All your choice.”

The group looked around at each other with disbelief before turning back to you with a chuckle, eyeing you as if you were prey—which you definitely seemed so to them. “Would ya look at that? Think you’re gonna take us in? We’re not going down without a damn fight.”

Sometimes you wondered why you even chose this damn job sometimes.

“Let me make this clear.”

That was all you said before you and another of your crew pulled your guns, aiming them directly at the group, earning a grunt of shock and irritation.

“Last chance.”

The group scowled at your crew as the rest of the crew pulled out the restraints, seeing how they dangled dangerously in their grasp. All of sudden, one of the members charged at you before you quickly aimed at the man before..

WHACK.

You don’t know how it happened or what did it come from, but all you knew was that you were on the floor and had blood dribbling down your lips—most likely from being brutally punched. Your eyes glared at the mysterious person, seeing them emerge from the shadow and saw that it was woman. You quickly shuffled onto your feet, looking over at your crew while they were busy handling the others before focusing your attention back to woman.

She had a nasty grin on her chapped lips, slipping a sharp knife from the back of her pants as she eyed you steadily—seeing how you were focused solely on her. “Oh c’mon, can’t handle a little punch?”

You grunted at her taunt before trying to reach for your gun, but saw that it was fucking gone? Fucking great. Luckily, you had close combat experience. You were steady on your feet, keeping eye contact with the woman before she lunged at you with her knife, causing you to lean back and grab her arm to pin it behind her back as she stumbled to the ground and the knife clatter out her hand.

“Made this way harder than it had to be.”

Your eyes narrowed down at the woman as you pinned her wrist behind the small of her back, only moving one hand to reach for the cuffs, but that was your biggest mistake. The woman quickly reached for a knife on her side and sliced you on the side of your stomach, earning a pained yelp as you scrambled back from the woman.

“Wonder how you made it this far..”

You sneered at the woman, panting heavily as you applied pressure to the bleeding wound before slowly standing up as did she. It started to feel that maybe—just maybe—you should’ve listen to your wife.

The woman chuckled lowly before quickly charging at you, but was quickly clocked in the back of her head by Marcus with a gun—specifically, your gun that was scattered to the side—successfully cuffing her. The rest of the crew cuffed the rest of the group, herding them back. He added the woman in with the her group as they were escorted away, shouting out streams of profanities and whatnot.

His eyes immediately snapped back to you as you huffed heavily, seeing the blood seep through the clothes onto your hand gradually. He quickly helped you, throwing your arm over his shoulder as he helped you walk.

“Shit—you ok? What the hell happened back there?” He grunted lowly as you both shuffled back through the grimy streets and onto the bridge, crossing over to piltover.

“Some fuckin’—shit—girl came from nowhere and just punched me…and stabbed me..” Your voice was strained and heavy, trying not to wince too much as the slash only continued to bleed heavily.

“God…do you have any idea how stupid it was to take this case? You know Grayson is already going to be on mine and your ass.”

“Mhm, I know…let’s just focus on me not dying, yeah?”

and brother, was he right.

You laid in the infirmary, laying slightly uncomfortably as the slash on your side was still recovering. The blood loss wasn’t too bad, but scary and a blessing that you survived. The infirmary was nice and quiet, despite having doctors check in on you and here and there, but that didn’t last long until..

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Your eyes shot up quickly at the familiar voice, seeing your absolutely enraged wife rushing over to your side, quickly embracing you before caressing your face with a firm grasp and stern glare.

“Baby, listen—“

“Don’t give me that! I told you that I didn’t feel right about you going there. I trusted that you could handle it. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I was informed to hear that my wife was in the infirmary—being treated for a stab wound? Do you really?”

Her voice was stern, but held a edge of obvious concern and worry—though she was pissed. You frowned slightly as she scolded you, which was definitely expected from her, but you knew she was only concerned and worried for you.

“Honey, I know you’re upset, but I handled a good bit on my own…” Your voice was raspy and low, due to being sleep for a good while or so. She let out a heavy sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose, looking at you with a gradually softening before her hand caressed her cheek.

“I know and I’m proud that you did, but still, it was a risky idea to even take that case in a first place…you could’ve let me handled it.”

Though she was pissed, she still was worried and highly concerned for her dear wife, who happened to look like an angel despite being injured. Her thumb brushed over your cheek, gazing at you with obvious fret in her eyes as she murmured softly, “I swear I have to keep my patience in check with you…”

“Aww, I know you still love me.”

She couldn’t help, but chuckle at your cocky little remark, looking at you with a raised brow and an amused smile etched on her lips before brushing her hand over your thighs.

“Of course, I do, love. Though sometimes you make me want to strangle you..”

“Like how that woman wanted to before she stabbed me?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at your worst-timing joke, glaring at you with a tight pursed frown on her lips as she pointed a finger at you, “That is not funny.”

“What, you brought it up!?”

It would definitely be a wild before you ever got a case to go back to Zaun…it was definitely for the best to avoid complications.

hope you enjoyed and hoped this was to your liking, anon <3

#grayson arcane #grayson x you #grayson x reader #grayson arcane x reader #guard reader #this lowkey rushed #send asks #lesbian #fluff #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane s1 #older women <3 #graciedollie ᯓᡣ𐭩 #https://graciedollie #gracieasks!!#wlw #wlw blog

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h3r4life · 9 hours ago

Text

✧ THINGS TO SCRIPT: TOO PERFECT TO TOUCH, THE LACY EFFECT

“LACY, OH, LACY, SKIN LIKE PUFF PASTRY”

— Your skin doesn’t just glow, it radiates. It’s as though the sun itself has taken a personal interest in caressing your every curve. Eyes stop mid-conversation when you enter a room, their words stumbling and faltering because they’re too busy trying to comprehend how one human being could possibly possess such an otherworldly level of perfection.

— Beautiful and delicate, your skin shimmers like it was made from the finest silk and softest clouds, so impossibly flawless that it almost seems unreal. It’s the kind of beauty that feels too pristine to exist in the same world as the rest of us, yet here you are. And it makes anyone near you feel small, not because you want them to, but because your presence demands it.

— You don’t scream for attention, yet it’s impossible not to notice you, like the moon in the night sky that effortlessly pulls gazes. In the face of such perfection, others can’t help but feel as though they’re standing in the presence of something far more extraordinary than themselves. You don’t have to try. Just by existing, you make the world pause.

“AREN’T YOU THE SWEETEST THING ON THIS SIDE OF HELL?”

— There’s an innocence to you, a sweetness that catches everyone off guard. Most would expect someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you to have an edge, a flaw, something that makes you seem more attainable. But you don’t. It’s like you’re some celestial being, untouched by the world’s cruelty. And that stings the most.

— Others crave to be near you, but something about your energy makes them feel like they’ve entered a world they can never fully belong to. You don’t even try to make them feel this way. You don’t need to. Just by existing in your flawless form, you make them feel like they’re in the presence of something far more extraordinary than they could ever hope to be. They can’t quite figure you out.

— You seem too perfect, too angelic, and in the presence of your sweetness, they can’t help but feel as though they’re fighting a losing battle with their own envy. It’s not that they dislike you. They just wish they could be like you, pure, untouchable.

“DEAR ANGEL LACY, EYES WHITE AS DAISIES”

— Your eyes are like portals to another realm, striking and bright, as if they’ve never known a day of sorrow or doubt. They hold an innocence that feels almost cruel, like the entire world could collapse around you, and you’d still gaze out with that same serene expression.

— When someone looks into your eyes, they don’t just see a reflection of themselves, they see a reminder of everything they’ll never have. Your gaze is gentle, but it’s suffocating in its beauty. It’s the kind of look that makes one feel as though they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering if they’ll ever have the courage to leap.

— The look you give is both vulnerable and yet impenetrable, as if you’ve been crafted from something far more delicate than they could ever hope to understand. In that moment of connection, they feel small, insignificant, as if their very being will never measure up to the clarity you hold inside.

“OOH, I CARE, I CARE, I CARE / LIKE PERFUME THAT YOU WEAR”

— Your presence lingers in the air long after you’ve left, like a fragrance that you can’t quite place but can never forget. The way you move through the world, so effortlessly graceful, yet leaving an emotional trace in your wake, is something that captivates all who cross your path.

— People remember the way you made them feel, like they mattered, like they were seen in a way that most others miss. Your beauty is not just physical, it is spiritual, emotional, a presence that wraps itself around people’s hearts. They can’t help but care about you, care about what you represent. It’s like you’ve tapped into something deeper. An essence that resonates with everyone you meet.

— Your beauty is intoxicating because it makes people feel understood, seen, and valued in a way they’ve never felt before. But it’s not a beauty that asks for validation or attention (thought it attracts it regardless). It’s a quiet, understated power that humbles others. They can’t quite place why they’re drawn to you, but they know that it’s more than just surface-level allure. It’s because you carry yourself with a grace that feels like a gift to the world, and people can’t help but revere that.

“SMART SEXY LACY, I’M LOSING IT LATELY”

— People lose themselves in you, not because you’re trying to make them feel this way, but because you’re so impossibly alluring. It’s the way you carry yourself, the way you combine intellect and sensuality into a presence that’s utterly captivating. Your beauty isn’t just in the way you look, it’s in the way you think, the way your mind works.

— You leave everyone in awe not just of your appearance but of the depth you carry inside you. People get lost in your gaze, your words, your laughter, not because they want to escape, but because they’re so deeply fascinated by everything you are. There’s something almost maddening about being in your presence. The way you make others feel as though they’re not quite measuring up, yet simultaneously making them want to do everything they can to earn your attention, your approval.

— You’re not just a pretty face, you’re an intellectual powerhouse, and people are drawn to you because of the complexity that exists beneath your flawless exterior. You’re the embodiment of the kind of beauty that not only captivates the eyes and soul but stimulates the mind, and that’s a combination that leaves people utterly entranced.

“WELL, AREN’T YOU THE GREATEST THING TO EVER EXIST?”

— You are the epitome of perfection in the eyes of those around you. It’s not something that you ask for or expect. It’s just the reality of your existence. Your beauty is so effortlessly radiant that it leaves everyone around you in awe, and they find themselves comparing themselves to you, questioning how they can ever live up to the standard you’ve set without even trying.

— You don’t flaunt your beauty, you don’t demand admiration, it comes to you naturally, because you embody everything that is pure and untouched by the world’s chaos. People marvel at how effortlessly you glide through life, how everything about you (your physical appearance, your mind, your personality, your spirit) seems like the perfect combination of grace and power.

— Your presence fills every room with a sense of reverence, as if you are a being from another time, another world, and they can only marvel at the way you make the impossible seem so easy. It’s as though you are too perfect to exist in the way the rest of us do, and yet, there you are, living and breathing, walking through the world with an elegance that humbles everyone in your wake.

“LACY, OH, LACY, I JUST LOATHE YOU LATELY”

— Your beauty is a double-edged sword, it’s both a blessing and a curse. People adore you, but they also resent you. The admiration they feel for you is tangled with a jealousy they can’t shake, a jealousy that eats away at them every time they see you.

— You didn’t ask for this effect you have on people, but it’s undeniable. It’s like your beauty intoxicates them, leaving them unable to think straight. They loathe how they feel when they look at you, how their hearts race, how their minds spiral out of control. You don’t even have to try, you’re simply being yourself, and that’s what makes you so impossible to ignore.

— The truth is, they can’t stand the way you make them feel, yet they can’t look away. They despise their own jealousy, but it’s a part of them they can’t control, and it makes them want to be close to you, even if it tortures them. You are the sweetest form of torment, and they’ll never stop yearning for what they can’t have.

“PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE BUT IT’S LIKE YOU’RE MADE OF ANGEL DUST”

— Your beauty is both familiar and otherworldly. There’s something ethereal about you, a quality that makes you feel both of this world and not quite of it at the same time. People try to understand you, try to figure out what makes you so captivating, but they never quite can.

— It’s as if you were made from something beyond human comprehension, like angel dust sprinkled upon the earth to remind us of something purer, something more transcendent. You are, in a sense, untouchable. A divine presence that walks among mortals.

— People see you, and they can’t help but feel a sense of longing, but it’s a longing tempered by the recognition that they will never truly touch what makes you so extraordinary. You exist in a realm of your own, one that others can only glimpse but never fully enter, and that is the beauty that humbles them.

↓ BASED OFF THE SONG LACY BY OLIVIA RODRIGO.

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judeable-brainrot · 1 day ago

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trans!artrick both starting the academy and they don’t know about eo but start suspecting they may have more in common than just tennis. and art is dying to know so he asks in what he thinks is a suddenly way and is turns into a very beautiful friendship (turned relationship)

sighhhh my boys <3

they meet during move in and just something about one another draws them in. maybe it's Art's slightly too soft baby face or Patrick's too curved calves, but these almost missable factors seem to draw an investigation from one to the other.

out of the two of them, Art is the most curious and nosy, like a small puppy. being an only child for his whole life, he can't help but want to know more about his new roommate than he was actually telling him himself. so, when Patrick has a late practice one evening, he decides to snoop. he tries the usual places, dresser drawers, in the back of his closet, but the place he does end up finding something, is his bathroom cabinet. a small pouch, inside containing vials and syringes, similar to his own. also marked, testosterone.

the blond waits quietly on his bed, pretending to study while he nervous anticipates Patrick's arrival. he has to ask. so when the brunette finally comes heaving through the door, the conversation is barely there before Art is blurting out, "are you trans?" Patrick stills in the middle of setting his tennis bag away, back to the other boy. he says nothing. Art continues on his ramble. "i-i just saw your bag in the bathroom and it looked like mine so it isn't a bad thing or me being an ass i just—"

"like yours?" Patrick repeats softly, turning to him, eyes vulnerable. Art nods. "like mine.." that evening, they discuss it, their other shared commonality. they talk transitions, coming outs, surgeries, goals—even sexualities. all is back to the peace they one had, even ranging into deep comfort now that they had found a safe haven with one another.

but as boys often do, their minds start to turn elsewhere after a few months and they can't help but be curious of other things. it drives them to a drunken night of kissing sloppily in some frat house bathroom, Patrick groping at Art's ass while Art moans against his mouth. they go on like that for some time, leaving the house with flushed cheeks and mused hair, the walk back quiet and stumbly. they flop into their beds, ready to pass out when Art breaches the silence. "Pat..?" "hmm?" "what...what are we..?"

Patrick is quiet for a few moments, nearly leaving Art to think he's fallen back to sleep until he speaks. "i..what wold you like to be..?" Art swallows, rolling on his side in the dark to face him. "i..i'd like to be boyfriends, i think. if you'd want that too." he hears the bed creak and sees Patrick's figure roll over to face him. "i want that..a lot." Art can't help the small smile that rolls across his face in the darkness, barely registering as Patrick's larger body crawls into bed with him, pulling the smaller boy into his arms. he kisses his head. "my boyfriend.."

#challengers #jude’s asks #art donaldson #patrick zweig #artrick #trans!patrick zweig #trans!art donaldson

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witherby · 3 hours ago

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I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

#batfam x reader #littlest wayne au #justice league x reader #tw emetophobia #batlantern

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phosph-ate · 12 hours ago

Text

Tether

Dr. Phosphorus x GN!Reader

Rick is sent to collect someone from inside of seemingly haunted woods. He realizes he's bit off more than he can chew a little too late.

CW: violence, gun violence, swearing, canon divergence, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2k

A/N: they/them used for reader!! this veers away from the show. it is not set in it. it's just an idea i had and i want to run with it. it probably won't be too many parts/chapters. also, there is an oc in here, she is important to the story. just in case you have feelings about ocs! reader's abilities will be touched on more thoroughly next chapter! divider made by cafekitsune

The woods were considered haunted. They had not always been that way. In fact, they used to be beautiful and lively. But now, a heavy fog and dark shadows shroud them. Not a peep could be heard from inside once in them.

“This can’t be normal.”

“No, Phosphorus,” Rick sighed, “it fucking can’t be normal.”

Bride, Nina, and Weasel stood a little behind Phosphorus, who was directly behind Rick. After what seemed like an hour of trekking through the heavily wooded area, they stumbled upon a cabin.

“This is it.” Nina chimed in from behind them. “This is what the hunter described.”

“You all wait back here,” Rick begins to walk towards the cabin. “I’ll handle this for now.”

Phosphorus groaned but stayed put. The only one seemingly not antsy was Weasel. He stood there, patiently. Or as patiently as he could.

Rick walked onto the porch. He immediately noticed spots of blood scattered on it. The wood creaked loudly; it was very noticeable considering how silent the area had been. Before he could even knock the door was swung open. Someone who could not be older than sixteen stood in front of Rick. She was chewing, no smacking, some gum.

“Who the fuck are you?” The teenager looked Rick up and down, staring at him with distaste.

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

The girl peeked over Rick’s shoulder and noticed the group a little way from the porch. She rolled her eyes. “Well,” She stepped to the side. “I guess you can come in.”

“Huh?” Phosphorus was loud and confused. “You’re going to let some monsters into your home.”

“Not my home.” She shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve been expecting you.”

“We?” Bride asked. “Where is the owner?”

“Resting.” The girl seemed too calm. Rick hummed a response. The girl walked back to the couch and picked up a controller and continued playing some old game. “Any of you want to play with me?” She motioned to another controller. “We’ve got plenty of games! Diddy Kong Racing, Mario 64, and Donkey Kong!” She was excited to share. “I’m positive I’d kick all of your asses simultaneously at any of the games… But I’m not going to stop you from playing.”

Phosphorus looked down the hall. His head cocked to the side. “Where is the owner?” He sounded more assertive than Bride had earlier. “There is no way some kid is living out in these creepy woods by herself.”

“I said they’re resting.” The teenager snapped. “Now get your ass back in here. They don’t like people pokin’ around. I’d hate to see what would happen if they came out to you looking through their home.”

Phosphorus walked towards the steps and huffed. “We need to see them. Who are they? More importantly, who are you?” The doctor turned his head towards the girl.

“I’m Oli.” She gave her name quickly. “And I thought you knew who they were.” Oli mimicked Phosphorus’ huff. “Why else would you be here?”

“We’re here because people have been going missing in these woods. One man got away and was heavily traumatized.”

Oli went pale. “Not people.” She was short. She turned back to her game. She began to play again, and Phosphorus groaned.

“Look, kid!” He shouted. He started to walk towards Oli, and she froze. She went pale. A scream ripped from her throat, and she began to wail for something. For someone. A name Rick was not familiar with ripped through the air, straight from Oli’s lungs.

The house began to shift. The floor creaked and the lights flickered. The TV shut off and Oli fell off the couch and hit the floor, covering her face, still screaming.

“I’m not-” Phosphorus had no time to defend himself.

The wall behind the TV, closest to Oli, became covered in shadows. A black ooze dripped from the center of the wall. A loud crack, the crack of bones, came from the other side of the wall. Wind whipped outside and suddenly birds could be heard all around. The silence had been broken in the worst way possible.

Fingers creeped out from the wall, and then a hand was visible. It grabbed the wall, pulling whoever it belonged to out from the shadows. Bones continued to crack as whatever the fuck was coming from the shadows made its way into reality.

“What the fuck!?” Phosphorus screamed.

A distorted yell came from the person and once they dragged themselves from the shadows, they stood over Oli, protecting her. Their eyes were pitch black, no sclera, and their body cracked as they stood up straight.

“That must be the owner.” Nina said, eyes wide and full of shock.

You had been trying your best to replenish your energy. To recover from the earlier visit. But when you felt Oli’s fear and heard her screaming you could no longer rest. You pulled yourself together long enough to crawl out from your hiding spot.

When you stood over her fearful form and looked up to see the exact people she said would be paying you a visit you groaned.

“Oli,” Your voice was distorted. You peeked down at her before looking back around the room, assessing the situation. “You’re okay.” Your voice slowly returned to something more normal. “Aren’t these the people who you said were coming?”

“Yes.” She sat up and looked up at you with a smile. “They wanted to meet you!” She grinned, proud of herself.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at her, “You just did all of that for me to come out? You couldn’t just say ‘Hey! The people from the fucking prophecy are here!’ That would be just as effective, Olympia.”

Oli stood up. “Do not call me Olympia.” She gave you a nasty look. “You are not my-” She paused. She took in a deep breath and looked at the TV. “Anyway,” She turned it back on, “I gotta restart my game now. Because you turned the TV off when you showed up.” Her voice was low. “Go take care of whatever the fuck they need you for.”

You narrowed your eyes at Oli and turned back to the group of people in your home. “Sorry about, uh, earlier,” You gave them a nervous smile. Your eyes had returned to their normal color, “unless of course you came to kill me. Then I’m not sorry and you will not be leaving this property-”

“We are not here to kill you. My name is Rick, and we are investigating the missing people-”

You interrupted him. “Missing? They’re where they belong. Those men were fucking evil.” You rolled your eyes. “I try to keep this place unreachable. And yet, some people just cannot help themselves.” You glanced towards Oli. “Look, I’ll let you all go. I’ll make a path for you. It’ll be safe. I’ll even let a little sun come in, but I’m not going anywhere. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Rick ran a hand through his hair. “That hunter that escaped, was he…-”

“Oh!” You waved a hand around, “He was just a hunter. Happened to see a little too much, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.” You walked towards your front door and opened it. “I hate that I didn’t get to know all of your names, but… goodbye!” You smiled widely at them and motioned for them to leave.

“No.” Rick stood his ground. “What the fuck are you two doing out here? You just have this kid out in the middle of nowhere, where are her parents?”

“Dead.” Oli looked back from the TV and at Rick. “My family is fucking dead.” She paused her game and stood up. “Did Waller not tell you that? Or did she not know?” Oli snapped. She walked past you and straight towards Rick.

“Who’s Waller?” You asked, while quickly placing yourself in the middle of her and Rick. “What are you not telling me, Oli?”

Rick looked down at Oli with the amount of confusion you seemed to be in. “We were not aware you were here. We were told to bring them,” he pointed to you, “in. That is the extent of our knowledge.”

Oli’s nails were digging into her palms. Something in her seemed to snap. “You are not doing that!” She snarled at Rick. You tried to calm her. “That is not- I didn’t see that! You’re supposed to help us!” She had tears in her eyes.

“Olympia!” You grabbed her face. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes glazed over, and her knees buckled. You were quick to grab her and hold her up and keep her from hitting the floor.

“What is happening?”

You looked up to see the obviously irradiated skeleton speaking. “She- She’s-” You did not get to finish your sentence. Oli sucked in air harshly, and her eyes widened. She looked at you in fear. You felt every ounce of her fear. Your stomach flipped.

“Oli,” your voice was soft, “What did you see?”

“Me-” She sucked down a sob, tears filling her eyes. “Dead.”

You sat at the kitchen table with Oli. You had insisted your visitors leave, she insisted on them staying. Because of that, you had learned who each of them was. Bride, Dr. Phosphorus, Nina, and your personal favorite: Weasel.

You grabbed water for Oli and sat down beside her. “It could be nothing.” You tried to reassure her, keep her calm.

“My visions are never ‘nothing’.” Oli sipped on her water. She sighed and looked past you and at the group of people in your home. “I haven’t been telling you everything…” She shut her eyes tight and gripped the glass in her hand. “The people who are coming to these woods, they aren’t coming for me. They’re coming for you.” She looked at you with a scared look.

“Well,” Dr. Phosphorus clapped his hands together and began to walk towards you, “we’d better get you out of here then!”

“I can’t leave her!” You snapped at him.

At the same time, Oli whispered “I can’t leave them.” She sounded defeated.

“Why?” Nina cocked her head. “Do you not have anyone else?”

You were growing frustrated. “No!” You pulled Oli into your arms and stood over her as she sat at the table. “Her family is gone! She was wanted for her abilities. I took her in and she’s safe with me-”

“I’m their tether.” Oli sounded distant. You froze, arms falling slightly, but not leaving her sides. You were shocked she would give that information away so freely. “If I die-” She stopped talking and closed her eyes tight.

“What is she talking about?” Rick swallowed hard. Things got a lot harder if what she was saying was true.

“I’m their tether,” She repeated. “You know how when a baby duck imprints on, like, a human?” She looked back at the group of monsters standing in your home.

“What does that have to do with this?” Bride crossed her arms.

“We found each other in times of need. And somehow, their need was much greater than mine. I’m keeping them sort of… holding onto humanity.”

You were standing there silent. She was talking like you were not even there. So, you decided to speak up. “If she dies, I’ll feel it. And I’m afraid of what I will do.” You watched the group, face deadpan. “I’m not leaving here. We are both safe here.”

There was a heavy silence before Dr. Phosphorus spoke up. “That’s too fucking bad, we need you to come with us.”

You groaned. And then you felt it. Something was getting close to your cabin. Your hair stood on end, your head snapped towards the window behind you and walked towards it. Oli pouted, she knew what that meant by now. You tried to pinpoint where they were coming from. Your head began to pound.

“What are you do-”

The window shattered and a bullet flew through, hitting you straight in the forehead. You heard Oli scream. Her fear was palpable. She was at your side in a second. “There’s blood!” Oli wailed. “They can’t even bleed!” Her screams wrecked you. Everything went black.

#dr phosphorus #creature commandos #creature commandos x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #dc x reader #dcu

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