#marvel cinematic universe

[jbbmylove]

Bucky is Captain America’s biggest fan in every universe and I love him for that

This is the dork I'm in love with btw

[georgiapeach30513]

Captain America The First Avenger watch party starts now!!

Grab your popcorn, snacks, and caffeine and watch the iconic Steve Rogers and Howling Commandos!

[jbbmylove]

Sometimes I think about how genuine Bucky and Steve’s friendship is and how much Bucky must have loved Steve because just think about it. Bucky was very intelligent and excellent in school, he was a great athlete, he was attractive, he had everything to be one of those guys that are total assholes specially in times like the 40’s. Like, let’s be for real. In real life, people that have all those characteristics that pre-war Bucky had are not always the nicest, or at least, they don’t become best friends of people like Steve. Steve who had countless diseases, who was not very appealing to girls, who would always be ignored or taken for granted.

But Bucky did.

He became Steve’s best friend. He was always there since they were just little kids and as he grew bigger and noticed that his best friend didn’t so much, he still was always there. He always took care of him.

And maybe I like over analyzing his character so much, but that just made me think of what a great fucking person Bucky Barnes had to be to be considered by CAPTAIN AMERICA his best friend.

Even after all those years, even after Hydra, even after the serum, when Steve found out that Bucky was alive the first thing he wanted to do was to save him. And in Civil War he fought his own teammates and went against the government just for him.

Steve thought Bucky was worth it because Bucky was the first to think he was worth it.

[ghostly-lee]

I tried something new. At least I can check off "no lineart" from my new year's resolutions 👍🏼

Used two different references, and I had no idea where I'm going with this from the beginning to the end

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, guys! We reached the end, I must say I loved it. Happy ending for everyone!!!

Enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader x AgathaRio

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: angs, smut and happy end

Summary: The guardian changes everything

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

INFINITY

The room was an echo of despair, a space where time seemed to halt in the face of Wanda's emotional devastation. The dimness was pierced only by the unstable flickers of spells, trembling like flames in agony, reflecting the chaos within her. Her fingers shook as she frantically leafed through grimoires, her eyes scanning lines of text that blurred before the teary haze clouding her vision.

Her heart pounded like a discordant drum, each beat a cruel reminder of the void consuming her. With every spell, every failed attempt to locate Agatha and the people she loved, her frustration grew. It wasn’t just anger; it was something far deeper, an existential fury threatening to devour everything around her.

When the door to the room burst open, interrupting her frenzy, Wanda didn’t even turn. “What are you doing here?” she growled, her voice dripping with venom.

Stephen Strange entered hesitantly but resolutely, his expression grave. “What am I doing here?” he echoed in response to Wanda’s cutting glare. “A Guardian and her daughter, two Solis, have been taken. Do you think that doesn’t affect me? That I don’t understand what this means for the universe?”

Wanda laughed without humor, a hollow sound that reverberated through the room like muffled thunder. She rose slowly, the energy around her rippling menacingly. “They’re not just Solis,” she replied, her voice sharp as glass. “They are my life. My reason. And no universe is worth more than them.”

Strange took a step forward, trying to strike a balance between authority and empathy. “Wanda, what you’re doing—what you’re considering—could tear the fabric of reality. You know this.” His eyes locked onto hers, seeking to understand the depth of her pain. “Whatever you do, Wanda, it has to be done with caution. The universe is at stake.”

She stared at him with a chill that could freeze hell itself. “Caution?” Her laugh was dark now, almost deranged. “Caution is what made me vulnerable. Caution is what made me lose everything before. And if I have to destroy the multiverse to bring them back, so be it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Strange, for a moment, couldn’t find words. He knew she was beyond reason, but he couldn’t ignore the raw humanity in her eyes, the terror masked by determination.

“You’re a monster,” he finally murmured, not with hatred but with sorrow. “Look at what you’re becoming, Wanda.”

She blinked, her face twisting with something that looked like pain but was quickly replaced by icy anger. “I am not a monster, Strange.” she said, each word laced with conviction and bitterness. “I am a broken woman. A mother who failed. A wife who couldn’t protect her family. And now, I will do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes…”

Strange tried once more. “Do you think bringing your family back this way will heal you? Will it erase what you’ve lost? Or will it only create more pain?”

She smiled, but the smile was empty, devoid of any warmth. “I’m not looking for healing, Stephen. I just want them back.”

The air around her began to vibrate, the walls seeming to close in, suffused by the energy emanating from Wanda. Strange watched the growing purple magic, a harbinger of apocalypse, and knew he was losing the battle.

“If you go down this path, Wanda, there’s no turning back,” he said, his voice desperate. “You’ll destroy everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, not for a second. “I’ve already lost everything, Strange. Do you think I care about losing the rest?”

With a gesture, she pushed him away, an invisible barrier preventing him from coming closer. Strange stood helplessly as Wanda closed her eyes and surrendered completely to the power consuming her.

In that moment, she was no longer just the Scarlet Witch. She was a woman willing to burn the universe just to feel the warmth of her family once more.

[...]

In the heart of the grove, where sunlight filtered through the trees like golden tears, a faceless woman walked, her steps gentle on the leaf-strewn earth. Her garments were ancient, imposing in their simplicity, and her brown hair danced with the wind. She cradled a baby, small and fragile, in her arms. The baby nestled against her, seeking solace in her presence, its lips curving softly as it fed on the life she offered.

The love between them was palpable, almost visible, like a warm, comforting aura spreading through the surroundings. Every gesture, every sigh of the woman seemed imbued with infinite tenderness, a devotion that transcended time. Yet, there was sadness in her eyes, something that couldn’t be erased by the sweetness of the moment. She seemed burdened by guilt, as if something had been lost or broken, something that could not be mended, even in the warmth of maternal love.

And then, in the shadow of the trees, another woman appeared, her eyes silently observing. She stood at a distance, but her presence was unmistakable, as if she knew that scene, those moments, from an immemorial time. Her gaze was full of love but also profound sorrow, a sadness that seemed to span across all past lives. She watched the woman with the baby as though she somehow knew what the future held for them. There was no fear, only a serene, painful acceptance of something that could not be changed.

In that moment, you feared for their lives, feared for the fate looming over the faceless woman and her child. But then, as you looked closer, the fear dissipated. The observing woman’s gaze was one of pure, almost unconditional love, as if that baby were a promise, a continuity of something greater, something that transcended the lines of time and life.

Their love, the silent and eternal bond, echoed in your soul like a distant melody, and you felt that perhaps this was the true essence of what you had always sought: a family, a deep connection, something that defies time and space.

But the dream dissolved quickly, like a soft breeze at dawn, and you woke, lost and confused, to the sound of Seline’s cries, still so small, still so vulnerable.

The dream was still vivid in your mind as you woke, breathless and disoriented, your eyes adjusting to the dimness of the unfamiliar room. Seline’s cries, weak and hungry, pierced the quiet, reminding you of reality. She was with you, she was your daughter, but something felt wrong. The disorientation lingered, and the world around you felt distant, as if you were trapped between two worlds.

The room was gloomy, the dim light barely illuminating the outlines of the walls, and the sound of Seline's crying seemed to echo in the back of your mind. You felt a crushing pressure on your chest—a mix of disorientation and anger, the heat of growing fear spreading through every part of your being. When Agatha and Rio entered, something in the atmosphere shifted—a heavy, tense silence.

"But look who’s awake—the Guardian herself," Agatha murmured sharply, her piercing eyes fixed on you. Her tone carried an air of superiority, as if she were studying a chess piece she already knew how to maneuver.

Instinct took over. The desperation and need to protect your daughter made you rise quickly from the bed, your body heavy and almost uncontrollable. Your eyes locked on Seline, lying there so vulnerable. Your arms stretched toward her, frantic, as though it was the last thing you could do to save her.

"How do you know about this?" you demanded, your voice tearing through the air with a raw, defiant edge. There was no room for doubt or weakness now—not with Seline so close.

Agatha smirked slightly, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of sarcasm and knowing. "Oh, dear… I know so many things," she replied smoothly, as though discussing something trivial. Her confidence was infuriating.

You took a step toward them, your gaze locked on Agatha, a flicker of magic starting to tingle in your hands, ready to be unleashed. But as you extended your fingers, expecting the energy to flow as it always did, something was wrong. The power didn’t manifest. The emptiness inside you was worse than any physical pain. Where was the necklace? Where was the artifact that gave your magic the strength to fight? Frustration turned to dread.

"I can’t..." your voice faltered for a moment, your eyes darting to the emptiness. You felt powerless, as if all the forces around you had been stripped away. The vulnerability was unbearable.

Agatha observed your discomfort with amused eyes, as though she had anticipated your every move. "You do know, don’t you, that without that necklace, you're nothing more than an ordinary woman?" she said softly, her malice veiled, but you wouldn’t be fooled by her calm demeanor.

Before you could respond, Rio Vidal stepped forward, her eyes as silent as her presence. She seemed like the calm to Agatha’s storm. "You and your daughter are not mere Guardians, my dear," she said with an unsettling softness, her words hanging heavily in the air. "You have a destiny far greater, something that transcends the role you think you play."

Confusion swelled in your chest, and you felt as though the ground was crumbling beneath you. Something greater? What did they mean by that?

Before you could question further, Agatha stepped forward, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. "You and Seline are part of something much larger, much grander than the simple protection of the Infinite," she said, pausing to let her revelation linger before continuing, "You are key pieces in a greater plan—one you don’t even comprehend yet. The fate of the entire universe is intertwined with yours."

The shock was immediate, like a cold blade piercing your heart. You felt the weight of Agatha’s words as an overwhelming burden. The idea that your daughter—that you—were mere pawns in a far vaster game… It seemed impossible, implausible. Yet, somehow, you felt a strange truth in it all.

Your mind began to spin, the pieces slowly falling into place, but doubt, fear, and anger filled your heart. How could this be true? How could anyone use your daughter and you this way? But, deep down, you knew there was more behind all of it, something far beyond what you could imagine.

The air in the room grew even denser as your words came out, weak and trembling but laced with venomous concern. "Where is Wanda? The boys?" you asked, your voice low, almost breaking, as if every word was a painful effort. The emptiness in your chest only grew.

Agatha observed you, her eyes annoyingly calm, as if your pain were merely a temporary distraction. "Wanda?" she repeated, chuckling lightly. "Poor Wanda… Do you really think she can do anything against me?" Agatha’s arrogance was palpable, as though she were speaking of a child who hadn’t yet realized how insignificant they were.

You tried to focus, but your mind was still hazy, the physical and mental pain making it harder to think clearly. The worry for Wanda and the children, the fear of not knowing what had happened to them—it was all suffocating.

"Wanda... She will kill you..." The threat slipped out without a filter, a whisper laced with anger and apprehension. But to your surprise, Agatha seemed utterly unbothered. On the contrary, she let out a quiet, almost mocking laugh.

Agatha crossed her arms, slowly approaching. "Oh, dear," she began, her voice soft but dripping with venom. "I know exactly what Wanda is capable of. And I know what she cannot do. I am more than prepared for anything she might try," she said with overwhelming confidence, as if the future were already written and she knew exactly where you and Wanda fit into the story.

The fear you felt for Wanda, for your children, for everything that was happening, quickly turned into a wave of fury. She wasn’t just playing with you; she was toying with everyone’s lives. But what scared you most was how completely she seemed to have control over everything. And so far, you didn’t even know where to start fighting back.

Agatha was smiling, a look of malicious satisfaction on her face, as if she knew exactly what was about to happen. "I know her so well that I can tell she will arrive in 3… 2… 1…" Agatha said, her voice calm and brimming with confidence. She barely had time to finish her sentence before a deafening noise shook the cabin's roof, making the walls vibrate.

The sound came from outside, powerful, a crash so loud it felt as if the sky itself were collapsing. Agatha laughed, a low, satisfied sound. "Maximoffs… Always so punctual, aren’t they?" She turned toward the door as if she had been expecting the impact of Wanda’s arrival.

But before you could react, dark energy rose in the air—a magic ancient and powerful—wrapping around your wrists and ankles. You struggled, but the magical chains tightened around you, immobilizing your body with inhuman strength. Your hands were bound, unable to cast any spells. You screamed, trying to break free, but the chains only tightened, as though they were draining your energy.

"No!" You screamed, your voice desperate as you felt panic take hold of you. The magical chains bound you in place, and the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. The scream echoed through the room, piercing the walls, and your eyes frantically searched for Seline, only to see her being taken by Rio. Every movement Rio made was smooth but deadly precise, as if she had calculated every second, every gesture. She was moving away, Seline in her arms, far from your protection.

"Seline!" you cried out, the desperation in your voice more evident than ever.

At that moment, the energy in the room shifted. The air grew dense, heavier, and a wave of power filled the space. Wanda's eyes glowed a deep red, and a burst of scarlet energy swept through the cabin's entrance, throwing Agatha and Rio backward with force. The Scarlet Witch was there.

"Wanda!" you called out, your heart pounding harder at the sight of her entering, her hair floating around her like flames, anger burning in her eyes. She looked at you with a single glance that carried the fury of a storm.

Agatha, however, didn't seem surprised by Wanda's arrival. She straightened, smiling at her with the confidence only she could exude. "I see you've arrived... and with company, I see... Afraid, darling?" Agatha said, her arrogance boundless.

"Get out of my way, Agatha," Wanda replied, her voice as cold as ice. She raised her hand, and an explosion of red magic lit up the room, but Agatha dodged effortlessly, her smile never wavering.

"You don't understand, Wanda," Agatha hissed. "The girl and your daughter are just tools for a much greater purpose. A purpose far beyond anything you can control."

"Don't you dare touch them," Wanda growled, the magic around her growing even more intense.

At that moment, Rio prepared to cast another spell but was interrupted when Natasha, Captain Marvel, and the other Avengers stormed in with overwhelming force. Thor roared, his hammer carrying the weight of all thunder as he charged at Agatha's forces, breaking the magical barriers.

But Agatha wasn't willing to back down. She raised a hand, conjuring a storm of purple energy that swept across the battlefield, potent magic filled with intent.

Wanda focused, her magic becoming an unstoppable force, rivaling Agatha's. The two powers collided, creating a wave of energy that shook the ground, and the battle between the two witches was breathtaking. But deep down, you knew this fight was much more than just a battle of magic. It was a fight for your family, for Seline, for everyone she loved.

The unfolding battle was indescribable, a clash of powers that seemed to defy the laws of reality. Wanda, her scarlet energy radiating from her body like an uncontrollable wildfire, stood against Agatha Harkness, whose smile was as sharp as a blade. Yet something even more threatening was about to reveal itself.

Rio Vidal, with her quiet and haunting presence, seemed merely an observer, but there was something in her eyes—something that made the air around her feel colder, denser. She was still, but her aura of death was unmistakable. It was as if life itself was being drained away from her, and her power extended far beyond mere witchcraft, something much older, more primordial.

Rio spoke in a low voice, dripping with silent malice: "You are dealing with something far beyond your comprehension."

The red light around Wanda intensified, but before she could react, Rio moved with supernatural agility. She raised a hand, and instantly the air seemed to freeze. An absolute silence fell over the room, as if the world had stopped breathing.

The spell Rio cast was instant and ruthless. The shadows around her stretched out like tendrils, engulfing the space and beginning to consume everything around.

The energy seemed to erode the very essence of life, and the shadows swallowed the Avengers one by one, as if they were being torn apart by an invisible force. Thor's hammer was flung away, the light of its energy disappearing before the shadows. The sight of the chains of death that Rio created was terrifying, as though the fabric of reality itself was being torn apart.

But the worst was yet to come. With a simple wave of her hand, Rio Vidal summoned a torrent of energy that erupted from the ground like a hurricane, a black, pulsating wave that consumed everything in its path. It was Death itself personified, a primordial force that even Wanda seemed unable to contain.

"That's what's truly terrifying, Wanda," Rio said, her voice as cold as the winds of death. "I am the true mistress of the end."

When Rio looked directly at Wanda, the aura of Death around her intensified, and the room was filled with a crushing pressure, as if the entire weight of the universe was being compressed into a single point. The sensation of death spread through the atsmosphere like a fog, and Wanda's strength, as powerful as it was, began to waver under Rio's absolute dominance.

But Wanda was not one to give in so easily. She raised her hands, and a burst of scarlet power swept through the room. The clash between Death and the Scarlet Witch was like the collision of two opposing elemental forces. The energy exploded in the air, creating a wave that made the walls tremble and the lights flicker.

"You can't stop me, Rio!" Wanda shouted, her voice full of fury and pain. "You don't stop a woman like me."

The streaks of red energy collided with Rio's shadows, and the impact generated a shockwave that shook the foundations of the room. It was as if the very air was being torn apart, the two powers clashing with a violence that almost destroyed the space around them.

Yet despite Wanda's overwhelming power, Rio continued to resist, her shadow of Death enveloping everything around her. Her presence made everything seem dark, hopeless, and for a moment, it seemed as if the balance between life and death might be disrupted.

"You'll need more than anger to defeat me, Wanda," Rio said, an enigmatic smile on her lips. "I am the natural order of all things, baby."

Wanda, however, was not willing to back down. The sight of Seline, still far from her, was all she needed to fuel her determination. She would not let death defeat her. Not again.

Tony Stark, with his usual irreverence, watched Agatha with a cynical smile as he adjusted his battle gloves. He faced the powerful witch, analyzing her with the eyes of someone about to deliver a comment to make the situation even more interesting.

"So, Agatha, is it?" Tony began, making an exaggerated gesture toward the witch's dress. "Is that medieval witchcraft look trending? You're really channeling that 'evil grandma' vibe, or is it just your personal style?"

Agatha, without losing her composure, shot him a frosty glare. "Oh. So, you think this is a joke?"

Tony shrugged, feigning indifference to the veiled threat. "Of course. Who wouldn’t want to be a supervillain with such... unique style?" He then paused, eyeing her up and down with exaggerated flair. "I’d say you and Mother Nature over there are in a fierce competition for who has more branches on their head, but, well, you’ve already won."

Rio, focused on the battle and beginning to feel the tension, wasn’t amused. The jealous look she shot Tony was immediate. She was ready to intervene, no matter what it took.

Agatha, with a sly smile, was about to reply with more venom, but before she could, Rio made a swift motion with her hand, releasing a wave of dark energy toward Tony.

"I think this little chat has gone on long enough, tin man," Rio said, her voice soft yet menacing.

The energy engulfed Tony in an explosion of shadows, leaving him barely enough time to react. The fight between Wanda and Agatha momentarily took a backseat as Rio attacked with the intensity of a storm. The humor vanished in an instant, replaced by a new, deadlier tension.

"Little Death," Tony coughed out, still wearing his signature smirk. "I knew it was only a matter of time before your lesbian jealousy kicked in and you lost your patience, but I didn’t think it’d be this quick. Also, this suit is brand new, and—"

Agatha glanced at Rio with a victorious smile, as if fully aware that Rio’s unexpected action had drawn all the attention away from the battlefield.

And then, magically, the man’s mouth was gone.

"Sometimes, tin man, the best answer is the simplest: shut up."

The battlefield around you was chaos. Energy beams, spells, and explosions filled the air, but in the depths of your mind, the only sound you could hear was the voice of your deepest instincts—a soft, commanding voice echoing within your being:

Shine for us. Shine for them.

It was as if the voice spoke directly to your soul, guiding you, awakening something ancient and divine within you. The pain that followed was unbearable—tearing through your flesh, your bones, your mortality. Yet instead of fear, you felt a surge of power, a growing force from within. And as you opened your eyes, you saw your mortal shell disintegrating, revealing something far greater.

You ascended, soaring skyward, the energy emanating from you illuminating the battlefield with a golden light that drew every gaze. Your power was absolute. You were glorious. It was as though the cosmos itself bowed before your essence.

The air around you shifted. The world paused for a second.

Your bones seemed to restructure into something stronger, more resilient. Your skin glowed as if made of starlight. Then, with a triumphant burst, massive wings of light erupted from your back, each beat powerful enough to make the heavens part in reverence. You felt an uncontrollable power within you, the energy of the universe coursing through your veins. With a single push, you shattered the magical restraints Rio had cast upon you.

Agatha, usually so composed and full of words, was silent, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

“No…” Agatha whispered, as if the vision before her was an abomination, but in truth, it was the manifestation of what you truly were.

Below you, Wanda looked up, her eyes shining with a reverence she had never shown before. She saw you in a new light, transcendent and divine. Not just as the Guardian, not just as her wife and the mother of her child, but as a force of nature—someone beyond time and space. Her eyes were filled with adoration, her soul touched by the sight of you—glorious, powerful, something beyond human yet undeniably hers.

You needed no words. There was no need. The light emanating from you said it all. She rose toward you, as if you were the reason for existence itself. She knew you were the future, the beginning, and the end.

You felt your power expanding, and as you looked at Wanda, you knew the fight wasn’t over. But now, more than ever, you had the strength to fight for her, for Seline, for everyone you loved.

You shone, and everyone could see it now.

The sound of your wings beating was almost ethereal, a striking contrast to the devastated battlefield. You landed gracefully, your golden glow bringing an indescribable calm to the chaos. Wanda gazed at you, her eyes full of questions and hesitation. You, however, gave her a serene, confident smile and spoke with a voice that seemed to embrace her soul:

"Go get the children, my love."

It was a command, yet also a plea. Wanda hesitated for a moment, but then, as if the peace in your voice melted away any doubt, she nodded and disappeared into the horizon. For a moment, the war felt like a distant memory.

You turned to Agatha and Rio. Your golden eyes met Rio’s, filled with suppressed rage and palpable fear. Without a word, you took a step forward, facing her. The tension was suffocating. But something in your gaze—a mix of understanding and respect—disarmed her. Rio swallowed hard, her powerful demeanor faltering, and then, against all expectations, she gave a slight nod, allowing you to approach Agatha. Deep in her eyes, there was something more profound: silent tears of understanding only she possessed.

You walked slowly toward Agatha, who watched you with a confused and defensive expression. When you stopped in front of her, she raised her chin as if to challenge anything you might say or do. But you didn’t attack. Instead, your hand rose slowly, touching her cheek with a tenderness that completely caught her off guard.

"I see you…" you whispered, your words carrying the weight of ages. Your eyes glowed brighter, as if unraveling every thread of pain and suffering she had ever endured in the palm of your hand. "Your pain. You are ambitious… and you’ve carved painful paths for yourself."

Agatha’s mask began to crumble. Her eyes welled up, and for the first time in a long time, she looked vulnerable. There was no sarcastic laughter, no taunts—only a woman whose story was being laid bare, with no place to hide.

"Close your eyes, Agatha."

You tilted your head, silently conveying that no harm would come of it. After a long pause, Agatha huffed reluctantly and closed her eyes.

"And why should I?" she snapped, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and insecurity. But her guard was down now, just enough for you to notice the doubt in her stance.

The world around her dissolved. When she opened her eyes again, they were in a completely different place: a tranquil forest bathed in a soft, golden light. It was the same forest from your dreams. The air was heavy with memories but also carried something purer, more sincere.

Agatha glanced around, confused, and then her eyes fixed on something in the distance: a woman in old-fashioned clothing, cradling a baby to her chest. She seemed lost in thought, her face obscured by shadows, but the love in her gestures was unmistakable. Behind her, another figure watched with care, filled with reverence and an overwhelming sadness.

"You're the little boy's mother, aren't you?" you asked, your voice gentle but precise. Agatha's body stiffened beside you. She didn't respond immediately, but you felt the tension growing like a storm about to break.

"What do you know about that?" Agatha finally asked, her voice low and dangerous, but tinged with something deeper: fear.

You turned your gaze to her, your eyes gleaming with a light that seemed to uncover every piece of her soul. "I know enough, Agatha. And now, you will too."

The air in the forest pulsed with energy, every leaf and branch vibrating with the weight of the moment. Agatha remained rigid beside you, her eyes locked on the woman in the distance. When you mentioned the name "Nicholas," something inside her seemed to shatter. She took a step back, as if fleeing were an option.

"I can't..." she murmured, her voice almost inaudible but laden with weight. "Nicholas would never forgive me if he saw all the terrible things I've done."

You looked at her, the light in your eyes growing brighter as if trying to illuminate the shadows she carried. "Are you so certain of that, Agatha? Or is that just fear speaking? Shame?"

Agatha let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor. "Fear? Shame? Perhaps both. Do you know what I've done? How many lives I've taken? He... he was just a boy, and I... I lost everything trying to bring him back." Her voice broke at the end, and you saw the tears already streaming down her face.

You stepped closer, your presence radiating calm and understanding. "You’ve lost so much, Agatha. I know that. But hiding behind guilt won’t change what happened. Nor will it undo what you’ve done."

"I don't deserve his forgiveness!" Agatha shouted, her voice echoing through the forest. "How could I? I betrayed everything he stood for. I became... something he would never recognize."

You shook your head slowly, your expression full of empathy. "And yet, he’s here. Because his love for you is greater than any mistake you’ve made."

Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out your words, but they had already pierced deep. "You don’t understand... I’ve seen the looks of those who hated me. Who feared me. He would do the same."

"You don’t know that," you replied, your voice firm yet gentle. "What you’re truly afraid of is believing that he could still love you. What if I told you he already forgave you, Agatha? That all he wants is to see you, to touch you, to feel the love you still carry for him?"

Agatha opened her eyes, the weight in her gaze almost tangible. "What if I can’t? What if I... what if I fail him again?"

You smiled—a sad but resolute smile. "You’ll only fail if you don’t try. Come. See him. Not for you, but for him. He deserves this, Agatha."

She hesitated, her breathing unsteady as her eyes returned to the scene ahead. The boy let out a soft laugh in the woman’s arms, and the sound seemed to break through every defense Agatha had built. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she nodded, her steps slow and unsure as you guided her.

"If he hates me..." she began, but you interrupted her.

"Then you’ll show him that, despite everything, the love you feel is real. And that he will always be your son."

As Agatha took each step toward the boy, a storm of emotions consumed her. It was as if every memory, every decision, every mistake hit her all at once. She remembered the witches she had deceived and betrayed, their faces still vivid in her mind. Some had begged for mercy, others had fought to the end, but all had fallen for her singular goal.

Flashes of her spells, the marks of her ambition etched into her opponents, and the screams of her victims haunted her. The lies she told, the alliances she destroyed—everything she did to achieve something she knew she could never reach on her own: Nicholas. Her boy.

Then came Seline. Her plan to use her had been calculated, almost mechanical at first. She was just a tool, a key to unlock the only thing that mattered. But the idea of taking something so pure, so innocent, to fuel her obsession... it ate away at her.

The boy’s soft cries pulled Agatha back to the present. Her thoughts were still heavy with guilt and regret, but that pure, innocent sound cut through like a blade. When she looked ahead, she saw you cradling the small baby, your posture serene as you murmured softly:

"You came from scratch..." Your words were almost a whisper, but they carried an ancient power, echoing in Agatha’s heart as if they were memories from another life. They were the same words she had once spoken, in a moment of vulnerability and magic.

Agatha's blue eyes brimmed with tears, unable to hold back the drops that slowly rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't look away from the boy—so small, so fragile, yet carrying the weight of her entire story.

You paused, your eyes glowing with an intense golden hue, as though something beyond the physical world had been revealed to you. Then, the vision came—clear and vibrant: Nicholas, now grown, running through a flower-filled garden, his laughter echoing like music. His brown hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as he played joyfully. Beside him, a little girl with bright eyes and a radiant smile ran along, their bond of camaraderie evident.

The vision brought a genuine smile to your face, filled with satisfaction and peace. "Fate has drawn the right lines this time," you thought, feeling lighter, as though something greater had fallen into balance again.

When you offered the baby to Agatha, she hesitated. Her hands trembled, the thin, scarred fingers hovering in the air, almost afraid to touch him. At last, she took him into her arms, holding him with a gentleness that seemed incongruent with her hardened and imposing demeanor.

"Find your path again, Agatha," you said, your voice soft but firm, filled with an inescapable truth.

Agatha looked at you, still reluctant to let her facade crumble completely. "I’ll never forget this," she replied, her tone attempting to mask her vulnerability, but her tears betrayed her stoicism.

You smiled sweetly, almost maternally, as though you understood every barrier she tried to erect. "You won’t need to," you replied, your certainty shining like the stars.

As Agatha held Nicholas, something within her shifted. The weight of guilt didn’t vanish, but for the first time in millennia, a small spark of hope and redemption began to grow. The boy stopped crying and wrapped his tiny hand around her finger, and in that simple gesture, Agatha felt that maybe—just maybe—she could be something more than she had been until now.

[...]

The Christmas dinner was about to begin. Guests were likely already arriving, the laughter and chatter of children echoing through the house adorned with golden lights and wreaths. But you and Wanda were late. More than that: unavailable.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, things were far from festive—at least, in the conventional sense.

Wanda had pushed you onto the bed with an almost predatory hunger as soon as you crossed the door. Her eyes were dark, glowing with a lust that made you forget everything else. Her fingers trailed your skin with precision, as if she wanted to mark every inch of you before any of the guests downstairs had the chance to see you.

“You know they’re waiting for us…” you murmured between gasps, trying to sound responsible but failing miserably. Your fingers were tangled in Wanda’s hair, tugging slightly as she bit your neck.

“They can wait.” Her voice was low, heavy with desire. “You’re my present, and I’m not sharing.”

She kissed you again, this time more fiercely, as if trying to consume every breath you took. The touch of her hands on your thighs, moving slowly upward, sent a shiver through your entire body.

"My pretty little girl looks so beautiful today." Her fingers moved to your clothes, tugging at the fabric impatiently. "But I prefer you like this—naked. Mine. Only mine."

The possessive declaration made your heart race. Wanda had always been like this—intense, consuming—but today, there was something more. A kind of urgency, as though every second away from you had been unbearable.

“If anyone downstairs dares to ask where you are,” she murmured against your neck, biting softly before moving up to your lips, “I’ll tell them the truth. That you’re here. Wide open for me. Screaming my name.”

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips, and Wanda smiled against your skin. “Mommy...”

"Do you like that idea, my doll? Everyone knowing you belong to me?"

You nodded frantically, incapable of forming a coherent response as her fingers traced slow, torturous circles over your most sensitive spot.

“They’ll hear you,” Wanda whispered, increasing the pace. “They’ll hear you begging for me.”

Your body began to arch against the mattress, your moans turning into something deeper, more primal. And Wanda was ecstatic, watching you like this—so vulnerable, so surrendered. She knew that no one, absolutely no one, would ever see you like this. Not even in their wildest dreams.

“Come on…” She tilted her head, her lips brushing your ear. “Give me everything. Show me who you really are when you’re with me. My precious little slut. My angel.”

It was as if something inside you shattered. The pleasure that had been building erupted, spreading through your body like liquid fire, consuming every thought, every sensation, until all that remained was Wanda. Wanda and pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

And then it happened.

You screamed her name, the sound reverberating through the room, and at that moment, your wings emerged.

Massive, majestic wings made of light and shadow exploded from your back. They spread with a snap, illuminating the room like a celestial display. Their weight made the mattress sink slightly, and the air around you crackled with an otherworldly energy.

Wanda froze for a moment, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. It was always breathtaking when it happened. You were transformed. Radiant. Divine.

But the surprise quickly gave way to adoration.

“Fuck…” Wanda murmured, her eyes gleaming with something almost reverent. She ran her hand over the feathers of your wings, feeling their soft, ethereal texture. “You… you’re so beautiful.”

Her touch on your wings sent a delightful shiver down your spine. It was as if the wings were an extension of your own nerves, sensitive to her touch, reacting to the slightest movement.

“I love your wings,” Wanda said in a low, almost reverent tone as her fingers glided over the soft feathers. There was something different in her voice—not just admiration, but a hint of possessiveness, as if those wings were an extension of her, something she had awakened in you.

You let out a short laugh, still trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "If I’m an angel, then what does that make you? A demon?"

Wanda lifted her gaze, a slow, dangerous smile curving her lips. Her eyes gleamed with something between pride and desire, but there was also a touch of darkness—a reminder that, although you were shining now, it was she who had ignited this flame.

“A demon?” she murmured, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “No… something worse. Something that corrupts naive little girls like you. Something that makes them want to surrender to their own darkness.”

A shiver ran down your spine as her words wrapped around you like invisible threads, binding you again to that place between devotion and submission.

“Don’t forget that,” Wanda continued, her tone firm and possessive but tinged with the kind of tenderness only she could offer. “Everything you are now—your light, your wings, even the strength you feel—it’s all a part of me. I planted it in you. And I will never let you forget.”

Your wings trembled slightly under her touch, as if they themselves responded to that truth. You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment as you let it all sink in.

“Then maybe I am your angel,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet her burning gaze. “But you will always be my darkness.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile before she kissed you again—a kiss filled with unspoken promises, with a love that burned and illuminated at once.

“My light,” she murmured against your lips, her fingers still tracing along the feathers of your wings. “And I, your chaos.”

Wanda smirked, a proud, satisfied expression crossing her face. She pulled you into a deep, slow kiss, as if sealing the moment between you two. When she pulled away, her intense gaze burned into yours, leaving a heat on your skin.

“Now, my light,” she whispered, “let’s head downstairs. I’m sure our guests have arrived—or, at the very least, the kids are planning to set the house on fire.”

You chuckled softly, a charming sound that lit the air. “On Christmas night? They wouldn’t want to miss out on pie…”

As you descended the stairs, the house was alive with laughter and noise. The doorbell rang persistently, accompanied by the sounds of Tommy tugging at Sparky in an animated tug-of-war. Billy, unfazed by the chaos, stood near the fireplace, angling for the perfect selfie. Seline, ever curious, crouched by the Christmas tree, shaking gifts in an attempt to guess their contents.

“Ah, so they do want to miss out on dessert,” you remarked, raising your eyebrows as Wanda sighed, crossing her arms and shooting a sharp look at the trio.

“Definitely no pie.”

“Tommy, let go of the dog. Billy, put the phone away. Seline…” Wanda paused, searching for the right words as she caught the little girl using her magic to peel back a piece of wrapping paper. “If I hear even one piece of tape tearing, you’d better be ready to explain to the pumpkin pie why you won’t be eating it.”

At the sound of Wanda’s voice, Seline quickly stood up and pointed at the gifts.

“I was just checking! I promise I didn’t open any!” she said, hands raised as though surrendering.

Wanda shook her head, sighing. “How does she have your entire personality?” she muttered to you, though there was a glint of pride in her eyes.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again—this time longer and more impatient.

“If it’s not them, whoever it is is about to get a lesson in patience,” Wanda grumbled as you moved to answer the door.

The moment you opened it, Nicholas darted inside like a ray of sunshine against the snow outside. He practically leapt into your arms, his wide smile lighting up his face.

“Auntie!” he exclaimed, brimming with the kind of energy only a child could have. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, making you crouch to hug him back.

In his small hands, a shiny wrapped box dangled precariously. From the way he clutched it, you knew exactly who it was for. The sparkle in Nicholas’ eyes, mixed with innocent anticipation, warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

You smiled, keeping your voice low so only he could hear. “Hey, sweetheart. Seline’s just by the tree. She hasn’t stopped talking about you for a second.”

Nicholas’ brown eyes widened, a different kind of sparkle dancing in them—something between happiness and a shy sweetness you rarely saw in him. He didn’t reply, just nodded quickly before darting in the direction you’d indicated, his steps light and eager.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched the little ones. Nicholas placed the box carefully beside Seline, who, curious as ever, leaned in to open it—but not without glancing at him first, as though seeking permission.

The scene was so simple, yet in that moment, you saw your vision from months ago coming to life. The children’s laughter filled the air, exactly as it had in the image of the future destiny had shown you.

Nicholas, his messy brown hair damp with a light sheen of sweat, extended something small and golden to Seline. She, with Wanda’s eyes but a mischievous smile that was unmistakably her own, took the object carefully. And suddenly, as if time paused for a brief instant, you knew the line of destiny had been drawn perfectly.

You turned to find Wanda standing beside you. There was something in the way she looked at Seline and Nicholas—a mix of protectiveness, unease, and that playful jealousy she always pretended was stronger than it actually was.

Behind Nicholas came Agatha, draped in an elegant purple coat that seemed more fit for a queen than a family dinner. Her eyes swept the room with that familiar blend of veiled criticism and sly amusement that was her trademark.

“Well, what a charming Christmas tableau,” she commented, her tone almost sweet but sufficiently loaded to raise suspicion. “You still insist on keeping the tree so over-the-top, Wanda? It looks like every branch is in existential crisis, torn between too much decoration or total collapse.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway, her gaze sharp as a freshly honed blade. “Better over-the-top than monochromatic and dreary, Agatha. At least the kids don’t leave crying, thinking they’ve stumbled into a haunted mansion.”

Agatha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Monochromatic is refined, dear. But I understand—not everyone has the capacity to appreciate subtlety. Some people need… twinkling lights to mask their lack of taste.”

Wanda crossed her arms, leaning slightly forward. “And some people need constant sarcasm to mask the fact that the last Christmas they celebrated was in the Middle Ages, isn’t that right?”

Agatha theatrically huffed. “Oh, Wanda, always so dramatic. It’s almost inspiring. But you know what’s even more inspiring? The courage to wear so much red and not look like a department store decoration.”

Wanda sweetly smiled, that dangerous smile you knew so well. “Says the expert in purple, the favorite color of villains in children’s books.”

At that moment, Rio walked into the room, casually adjusting her necklace while looking at the two of them with an expression of long-suffering patience. “You two never get tired, do you?”

Both women scoffed, making you laugh as you gathered the coats.

“Wine?” you asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Red,” Rio replied.

“Excellent choice.”

As you approached the table to fetch the glasses of wine for the women, you felt Wanda’s warm body embrace you from behind. The small, subtle kiss placed just behind your ear made you blush, as always.

When you separated, Wanda whispered to you, “They’re not leaving anytime soon, are they?”

You chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “Of course not. It’s Christmas, love. And you know they’re our family now.”

Wanda let out an indignant sigh, but with that mischievous smile only she could pull off. “Fine, we’ll endure it. If we stay here too long, someone might set the house on fire, and I’m almost sure it’ll be Agatha.”

Right after, a loud, indignant voice rang out, making everyone in the room turn their heads toward its owner. “Do you know how long it’s been since I set a house on fire?” Agatha retorted, her impeccable posture daring the world.

“Agatha...” Rio warned, her eyes trying to bring calm but tinged with resignation.

“What? I’ve never set a house on fire!” she said, half-offended, half-joking.

“Really? But what about when the White House caught fire that year?” you teased, settling on the armrest of a chair, bringing a glass for yourself and one for Wanda.

Agatha grimaced, clearly displeased at being reminded of that incident. “Oh, that was an accident! I was trying to give Rio... a romantic surprise.” She paused, and everyone looked at her, waiting for more details. “I wanted a candlelit dinner, with fireworks at the end… I got a little carried away, and, well, the White House turned into an impromptu bonfire. But it wasn’t that bad! She loved it!”

“Of course I loved it,” Rio responded with a light laugh. “Who wouldn’t be touched by seeing a historic building go up in flames in the name of love?”

“But I... I’m getting better,” Agatha continued, trying to regain control of the situation.

“You always have an excuse, don’t you, Agatha?” Wanda decided to prod, poking at the woman’s ego.

You glanced at Wanda, who was laughing at the situation but with a touch of concern in her eyes. “Ah… But you’ve got your stories too, my dear,” you whispered to Wanda, making her blush slightly.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Wanda murmured, raising a hand as if to ward off memories of a past disaster. “One thing’s for sure: if any house catches fire here, Agatha will be the first one blamed.”

The light-hearted mood continued, with everyone laughing and trading barbs, but the energy was undeniably warm. The house was full of life, laughter, and stories, and amidst it all, love was clearly present. Whether between Agatha and Rio or everyone there, something magical lingered in the air—without any fires in sight... for now.

The table was elegantly set, with cod dishes, colorful sides, and glasses clinking with wine flowing generously. Christmas at Wanda’s house was always a mix of magic and chaos, especially now, with Agatha and Rio unofficially mentoring the twins. Dinner, as usual, was filled with banter and laughter.

Tommy, brimming with the typical energy of his 18 years, spoke about his college indecision. “Berkeley seems like a good option… But maybe Stanford? Who knows, I might just flip a coin to decide.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a playful smile. “Tommy, darling, the universe already handles enough chaos without you flipping coins for life decisions.”

“Exactly, Tommy,” Billy joined in the teasing, “because clearly chaos didn’t start with your habit of being late for everything.”

Laughter rippled through the table, but at some point, Billy’s expression turned thoughtful. He held his glass with exaggerated drama, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Everyone, I think it’s time for a revelation.”

Eyes turned to him, some curious, others with a humorous glint, already predicting what was coming. Billy paused, a true actor on stage, and announced:

“I’m gay.”

A second—maybe two, if someone wanted to exaggerate—of silence fell over the table. Then, collective laughter erupted like a wave.

“Wow, Billy, that was quite the revelation!” Agatha said with a sarcastic smile. “I think we’ll need a moment of silence to process that.”

“Absolutely shocking!” Rio declared, theatrically clutching her chest. “Must be why you spent an hour helping Wanda pick out the most stylish Christmas lights for the porch.”

Billy chuckled, blushing slightly but enjoying the reaction. “Okay, fine. I get it. That was about as shocking as saying the sky is blue.”

“Sweetheart, you ran out my anti-frizz cream,” you teased, laughing.

Wanda raised her glass, her eyes shining with affection. “Billy, darling, I’ll just say this: I’m your mother. I knew before you did. I just waited to see when you’d decide to tell us.”

“By the way,” Agatha interjected with a mischievous grin, “since we’re in a mood for revelations, Tommy, is there something you’d like to share?”

Tommy nearly choked on his juice, his eyes wide. “Me? No! I’m good, thanks. Pass.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her expression amused. “Relax, Tommy. If you’ve got nothing to share now, we’ll wait. But only until next Christmas, okay?”

The boy shook his head, laughing nervously as everyone enjoyed his flustered state.

Amid the teasing and jokes, dinner remained light and welcoming, with Billy visibly relieved and Wanda watching the scene with a maternal smile. There was magic in that house—both literal and figurative. And while Agatha and Rio’s mentorship helped the twins shape their gifts, it was these simple moments, full of love and laughter, that truly defined the family they had built.

That night, Christmas wasn’t just about gifts or food. It was about natural acceptance, shared laughter, and the kind of love that turns even the most “shocking” revelations into something genuinely beautiful.

[...]

The night gently fell over the house, the cozy silence enveloping everything around. In the shadows of the bedroom, the soft moonlight touched their intertwined bodies, creating an atmosphere where time seemed to slow down. Wanda lay on her side, her penetrating gaze still filled with frustration, but also immense affection. She had lost herself in her thoughts, her arms wrapped around you, almost as if she wanted to keep you all to herself, only hers. But the restlessness wouldn’t leave her.

Finally, she turned to face you, her expression filled with a complex emotion. "This is so unfair! Having a daughter, only for a man to come and take her away from me," she said, pouting like a petulant child, not realizing that what was unfolding was far more than any possessiveness.

You let out a light laugh, full of tenderness, a laugh that felt more like a silent dance between two souls who understand each other without words. "Man? Nicholas is eight." You smiled, a hint of incredulity in your voice. "Wanda, I know you want to protect Selly, but she’s growing. Fate is set."

And when you said that, the sense of inevitability was palpable. Like an invisible current, unseen, but carrying with it the full power of a universe in motion. It was as if the threads of destiny had already been intertwined long before your eyes met, and now, their hands, young and pure, were beginning to reach out for one another.

But Wanda, always so impulsive, couldn't help but contest. "You’re the guardian, aren’t you? Do something." Her green eyes, filled with an irresistible charm, fixed on you, that glint in her gaze revealing she knew exactly what she was doing. You knew she was using this to try to make you change your mind, but you also knew she was just trying not to accept what, deep down, she already knew was true.

"Wanda..." you warned her, but she huffed, clearly frustrated with the impossibility of controlling what was coming.

"It’s just that the boys are already grown, adults, and she’s still my little girl," she confessed quietly, almost like a weakness, and you felt the weight of it, the fear of losing something she had built with so much love and care. But in truth, the reality was that this love was preparing the ground for something even more beautiful.

"Sweetheart, Selly is crazy about you, just like I am, she wouldn’t trade you for anything." You smiled softly, touching her cheek. "But you know... one day, they’ll have to date for real."

Wanda didn’t like that. She didn’t like to imagine her little girl, so pure and sweet, going into a world where things weren’t simple anymore, where feelings were complicated, where promises and destinies tangled in ways that could no longer be controlled.

"Sure, when she’s thirty and living in Canada." She crossed her arms, as if that was the only way to protect what she loved most.

"Wanda!" You laughed, but deep down, your heart was full of immense love, knowing that Wanda's concern was just another layer of protective affection that ended up making everything more beautiful, more real.

"Alright," Wanda finally said, letting out a sigh of surrender. "Just when she’s thirty, no need to go to Canada."

You sighed, a soft smile on your lips. "Wanda…"

"Alright, twenty-nine..." she relented.

You knew that everything that was to come, everything that was unfolding, was being paved by them in an inevitable way. Like two stars slowly drawing closer, pulled by the gravity of the universe, not even knowing they were destined to merge into a single, powerful glow.

The destinies of Seline and Nicholas had been intertwined from the first breath, like invisible threads connecting them without anyone being able to see. It wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about possessiveness. It was about something deeper, something that only time and love could reveal. And you knew that, when the right time came, they would find each other, not by chance, but because it was what the universe had planned.

And Wanda, as much as she wanted to protect Selly from the world, from all the risks, deep down knew that when the time came, it wouldn’t be a loss. It would be the beginning of a new story that would endure until the end of time.

The Infinite was never about a straight line. It was never about time or space, but about the moments that mark our hearts and change everything. Like fingers intertwining, like eyes meeting, like shared sighs in the silence of a cold night. The Infinite is made of choices, of loves, of losses. It is the memory of every step taken, the hope of each new day.

Being the Guardian of the Infinite is not about power, it’s not about controlling what is eternal. You always imagined it would be something grand, something beyond your understanding, but the truth is that the Infinite hides in the small things. In the smile we give to the people we love. In the gentle touch of a hand that holds ours. In the silent promise we make, without words, but with our whole hearts.

You saw the Infinite not as something distant, but as something so close, so vast and yet so delicate, that it made you feel small. Not in a sense of weakness, but in understanding that love — that feeling so simple and yet so complex — is the true force that holds everything. The Infinite is not in the distant stars, but in what is created between people, in those invisible connections that cannot be explained, only felt.

And it was there, in that moment charged with emotion, that you plunged into your own Crimson Reverie, a state where everything was pulsing, vibrant, full of meaning. The red was not just a color; it was a presence, a mark that represented both the intensity of love and the burning wounds it can bring. The Crimson was your bond, your eternal waking dream, a place where love and chaos intertwined, where you and Wanda existed as inseparable forces.

You came to understand that love has no beginning or end, because it is always there, waiting, silent, waiting for us to embrace it. It grows with us, transforms with us. Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s bitter, but it’s always real. And when we look at the people we love most, we see how strong those bonds are. They are what remains, what crosses time, what endures pain and distance.

This is how the Infinite reveals itself — not in a snap of fingers or in an explosion of power, but in a simple gesture, in a look. The moment you realized that your destiny was not to be the guardian of something immense and incomprehensible, but to be the guardian of the small moments of love that make up life. You are not just a force that holds time, you are a person, with a story, with loves and choices that make you who you are.

And in the end, it is love that writes the story, that gives meaning to what would be just a chaos of purposeless events. Because it is love that transforms, that heals, that blooms amidst grief, that teaches us to be more human. More vulnerable. And perhaps that’s what makes the Infinite so special: it’s not distant, it’s not cold. The Infinite is made of life, of love, of every person who crossed our path and left a mark. And in every moment, in every breath, the Infinite continues, and perpetuates itself, not in something grand, but in the softness of what unites us.

So, perhaps the secret of the Infinite is this: it’s in the simple act of living, of loving, of making mistakes, of starting over. Of knowing that, in the end, what matters is not how much time we have, but how much we love and allow ourselves to be loved. Because love is what makes us eternal. It is what makes us part of the greatness of the Infinite.

And that is what remains.

~*~

Thanks for following Crimson Reverie! And I wish you find your place in infinity <3

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[itsillyakuryakin]

[decrypt-void]

The Gae-ity of this post is sooooo blowing my mind.

Grabs popcorn.

1930s Brooklyn: Steve has a habit of flopping into Bucky's lap wherever-whenever. Sometimes Buck gets a pointy elbow in the ribs, but he'll just grumble something and adjust accordingly until they're both comfortable.

Skip to 1940s France. Bucky's sitting around the campfire contemplating the Howlies' next move when Steve '240lb tank of solid fucking muscle' Rogers drops on top of him

[selfcestmovies]

holding out hope #marvelzombies

[the-mid-night-witch]

Open RP:

I'm tagging everyone that was tagged in Dani's original post. If u don't wanna interact u don't have to, but this is the place to confront Nyx if you want to.

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(i made the edit. yes ik dani isnt dead but it just fits the song)

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You finally arrived at the small cabin in the woods. Snow fell around you and crunched beneath your feet, the wind ice cold against your face like a thousand knives. Inside lived the witch Dani had always talked about. Her mentor, her teacher. Though now Dani was in a coma, brain dead and in hospital, all signs pointed to the inhabitant of the cabin as the culprit. The moon burned into Dani's wrist was Nyx's symbol. Though she denied being at fault

The walls of the small wooden building were deep brown, the fenced gate decorated with the skulls and bones of small animals and birds. Any footsteps that may have indicated someone was home had been covered by the snow, and the shutters were closed to block any light coming from the inside. The place was deathly silent, even the rushing wind seemed dulled in volume. There was something very old and very powerful here, even the forest seemed to be trying to escape it, the dead, gnarled trees that lined the small dirt path to the house were bent away from it, as if trying to escape. No animals could be seen for miles, and all the plants were dead or dying.

The door had a small knocker shaped like a bird skull. Below it, carved into the old oak door were the words: 'An' ye harm none, do what ye will' You could enter politely, or forcefully. The choice was up to you. But this was the woman who harmed Dani, who had put her in a possibly fatal coma. The small, inconspicuous cabin was practically inviting you in. You knew she was powerful, dangerous, almost immortal. The few people that had come back from this part of the forest talked about how she was 'unkillable' What do you do?

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@mutantontheloose @justawhitewolf @they-call-me-birdsong @they-call-me-ricochet @poor-lost-leo @just-a-fucking-civilian

@hydras-tiny-dancer @agent-solenski @moongirlwidow @your-fav-russian-assassin @elia-theassassin

@thecrazyrplayerosie @the-other-lehnsherr-girl @thebetterbartontwin @clintbarton-thearrowguy @the-real-best-archer

@americas-favourite-fossil @that-punk-from-brooklyn @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @we-love-redwing @captain-s-falcon

@serenastark-official @wandamaximoff-official @little-witchy-wanda @whosafraidoflittleoldme17 @lincoln-campbell-the-inhuman @the-good-redheaded-witch @thebestmerc-1

[spidey-official]

just to clarify: i do NOT wear underwear under the suit. i’m going for aerodynamics. feel free to take that information and live with it.

[its-nate-the-sharpshot]

Nate :D

I made grilled cheese!

Want one?

@c4m3r0n-st0n3

Oh uhh... not right now... I uhh...

*steps back*

[isthatmyjacket-covenofchaossq]

she's Natasha's soft spot, what can I say?

[mischiefmaker615]

OMG THAT PLOT TWIST IN THE END AND STILL CONTINUED WITH MY FEELINGS XD

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐦?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟏𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝟏𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

White, cotton sheets were twisted in a tight rope around your bare legs, leaving most of your body exposed to the cool air that drifted in from the open window of your bedroom. The night wasn’t overly warm, yet the heavy blankets atop your bed were pushed haphazardly to the side and lay in a rumpled mound of cream and purple. Even with the window cracked open to allow a soft flow of night air to whisper into the room and next to all of your blankets discarded to the side, there was still no soothing the incessant searing heat of arousal that had settled like a demon between your thighs.

And it was all because of Loki.

“One last thing, pet,” he had spoken softly in your ear before boarding the Quinjet, looking to anyone else that he was simply whispering sweet nothings in your ear before he left. “You aren’t allowed to pleasure yourself while I’m gone. I want to feel how badly you missed me when I return.”

There in the launch area of the compound, it hadn’t seemed like an overly difficult order. He had denied you many times before, sometimes even making you beg for it when he was feeling particularly sadistic, but it had never lasted longer than a few days. As much as he loved denying your pleasure, he loved the sight and sound of you losing yourself to it even more, especially when it was his own doing. You had smiled sweetly at him, told him that was barely a challenge and that he was losing his touch. He had only given your ass a final firm pinch and half backed towards the Quinjet with a wicked smirk on his face. 

It was the smirk, that damn smirk, that had played over and over in your thoughts when the arousal had grown so fiercely strong that sleep had now evaded you. The bastard had known how achingly intense the frustration would become, had known that missing him would progress from simply wanting to catch him in an unexpected kiss to feel his lips against yours, to needing him to bend you over the conference room table and roughly have his way with you. 

He had known the dilemma he was leaving you in, known just how badly you would crave to touch yourself in his absence and break the only rule he had for you: you weren’t to orgasm without his permission. 

You twisted fitfully again in the sheets in a desperate attempt to ignore the searing ceaseless pulsing of your cunt, how it cried out for your fingers, for Loki’s tongue, his cock…

For the little golden vibe nestled in your bedside cabinet. 

Your head turned to the side. It was just within your reach. All you had to do was reach out and open the drawer. How would Loki ever know? Your fingers twitched atop the sheets and you were moments away from reaching a hand out to clasp the cold metal of the drawer handle when soft footsteps approaching your room had you freeze. 

You would know those footsteps anywhere. 

Loki was home. 

With each step closer to your room your heart hammered louder in your chest and adrenaline raced through every vein and beneath every pore. You felt the urge to leap on him as soon as he walked through the door, to press him firmly against the bedroom wall and beg him to fuck you until you saw stars. His steps grew softer as he approached, likely in anticipation of you already being asleep - a laughable idea, really, when the arousal was burning so ceaselessly in your core that Loki’s cock pounding into you was the only thing your depraved and desperate mind could think of. 

His soft footsteps came to a stop on the other side of the door and you watched it creak open quietly with a thundering heart. Loki’s tall, leather clad frame eased into the room, the same wicked smirk growing on his face when he realised you were still awake. He let the door close behind him and you heard the quiet click of the lock sliding into place. A surge of heat instantly washed over you from head to toe. 

Loki leaned his full weight against the door, letting his eyes roam appreciatively over your body lying atop the twisted sheets. “My, my, pet. Having trouble sleeping?” he taunted, his eyes scanning the disheveled bed clothes and your half spread legs. 

You swallowed thickly, valiantly ignoring the almost overpowering urge to leap from the bed, strip him of his leathers and drag him down on top of you. Already, the way his suit clung to his muscular thighs and perfectly hugged his chest was making you breathe a little heavier. You wanted those thighs between your legs, wanted to scrape your nails down his chest and make him quiver under your touch. 

“It was a little warm,” you replied, your voice already husky with need. 

Loki’s eyes glittered from where he stood, still watching you closely. “Poor thing,” he cooed, beginning to take slow, measured steps towards the bed, like a hunter finally cornering its prey after a chase. 

You hurriedly pulled yourself into a sitting position against the pillows, eyes never breaking with his as his knee hit the mattress to send it dipping gently beneath you. As if working on instinct, your knees spread wider apart, welcoming him in, pleading with him to settle between them. 

He moved only the slightest bit closer, resting cool hands on your hips just above the band of your sleep shorts. “Perhaps taking a layer off would help?” he said smoothly, easily encouraging you to lift your hips and allow him to slide them effortlessly down your legs. 

“It might,” you replied, the anticipation of finally having him after a week making your voice nothing but a faint whisper. His touch was like a soothing balm against your hypersensitive skin, though it simultaneously only fanned the heat flickering mercilessly between your thighs. Fingertips tracing the skin of your legs wasn’t enough. You needed to drown in his touch. 

“No delicates, pet?” How trusting,” Loki said, throwing you a wicked grin as he pulled the shorts from your ankles in one fluid movement. He placed his hands either side of your legs and bent his face towards your throbbing centre. You braced for the glorious wet heat of his tongue lapping through your folds, only to feel a soft breath of air as he blew against you.

Soft, white sheets were balled into your fists, and your hips tilted up in desperate search of his mouth. “Loki!” you whined, feeling the frustration bubbling to almost boiling point inside you.

He laughed softly, his eyes twinkling in the half light while he traced his fingers teasingly over your thighs. “Soon, pet,” he murmured, letting his hands drift to your stomach and beneath the hem of your shirt. “Mmm, as lovely as this is, you won’t be needing it tonight,” he added, gently tugging the shirt over your head until you were lying bare before him. 

He sat up briefly and you heard the deep inhale through his nose, saw the way his eyes travelled over every inch of you like you were a piece of fine Asgardian art. “Perfection,” he whispered, and bent down to roughly nip at your collarbone. 

You moaned at the thrill it sent surging through you, arching into him and locking your arms around his broad shoulders. Always you needed him closer. 

“Mmm, good girl. Moan for me,” he growled, continuing to pepper your collarbone with sharp nips. 

Your fingers curled into the leather he was still wearing, the pull of it against your fingertips snapping the little patience you had left. “Off. Please. Need to touch you,” you breathed out, sliding your hands across his shoulders in search of some hidden way to pull it from him. 

He gave a final sharp nip just above the tops of your breasts. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, but in a simple, lazy flick of his wrist his clothing had dissolved in a shimmer of emerald green. 

Hungrily, your hands reached for his chest, running from his shoulders over the small smattering of chest hair and down to his toned stomach. Every part of him was perfect, every part of him was yours. You settled your hands on his muscled back, every ripple and jump of them beneath your fingertips only making you crave him more. 

“Have you been good for me?” Loki’s quiet voice broke through your thoughts. 

He began making a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down your collarbone, over your breasts, and down the expanse of your stomach, the wet sound of his mouth having your cunt clench repeatedly. 

You whimpered with every tickle of his lips, tangling your hands in his hair in an effort to push his head between your thighs. “I was so good, Loki. I didn’t even touch myself while you were gone,” you pleaded. 

He answered with a quiet little hum that vibrated against your stomach. “Is that so?” He lifted his head, still wearing that mischievous grin that always made your stomach flip. Strong hands were then gliding along your calves, pushing them up and spreading them wide so you were exposed fully to him. There was no way for you to hide the desperation that was glistening between your thighs. 

“Norns, pet, you’re soaking,” he said, holding your thighs firm when you whimpered and attempted to close them, to shield yourself from his gaze. “Did you miss me?” he then asked, smirking at you from between your legs. 

You bucked beneath his grip, turning pleading eyes towards him. “Please, Loki. It’s been torture!” 

He ran his hands softly over your thighs and turned to press an almost featherlight kiss to one. “I’m so proud of you, darling. My best girl,” he cooed his praise, pressing his lips along your inner thigh in a trail of soft kisses until he reached your cunt. He stopped for a moment, long enough for you to whimper again and lift your hips, before he laughed softly and licked a warm, firm stripe along the length of your cunt. 

The searing pleasure was so great that it almost blinded you and your scream was silent as it hit the ceiling. The ability to make a sound was robbed from you, and all you could do was watch Loki, looking like sin personified between your legs as his inky black head continued to bob gently. You tangled your hand in his curls, anchoring him to your cunt and giving him no leeway to move, no leeway to do anything but drive you to the brink of pleasure with his skilled tongue. 

He lapped and sucked like a man starved, propelling you rapidly towards the edge until your pleasure was threatening to fall down around you like an early spring rain. You were dancing on the edge, so wonderfully close to tipping over into a freefall that would drown you in a weeks worth of pent up energy. So close, so wonderfully, gloriously close…

And then he stopped.

You sucked in a gulp of air, almost choking as it hit the back of your throat. You tugged forcefully on his hair, desperately trying to push him back to your aching cunt. “Loki, please! Not tonight! No edging, please!” you begged him, feeling hot tears form behind your eyes. 

He smiled softly at you. “No more edging, darling, I promise,” he said, taking your hand to guide it down your stomach. “I only wish to watch as you pleasure yourself for me.” He sat back on his heels, a glint in his eyes as your hand drifted lower. “Go on, darling. Make yourself feel good.” 

His eyes held yours, something close to a challenge in them as your fingers drifted lower. Just as they dipped between the soaked folds of your cunt to finally chase the pleasure you were craving, to finally getting that release, you jolted suddenly awake. 

Your eyes darted quickly around your surroundings. You were in the same bed in the same room and your legs were spread across the sheets just as wide, the only difference being the hand that lay still on your stomach and Loki standing at the bottom of the bed. 

He was bent fully over, his weight resting on his hands as they sat atop the blankets. His eyes were watching you intently, glittering with silent mischief that made you suddenly understand the very vivid dream. 

“Good girl,” he purred, standing upright to undo his belt. Your cunt clenched hard in anticipation when he pulled it from around his hips in one smooth movement and placed one knee on the mattress. “Now let me show you how I plan to reward your obedience.”

Tags: @sailorholly @joyful-enchantress @muddyorbs @ozymdias @fandxmslxt69 @trickster-maiden @lokixryss @silverfire475 @wolfsmom1 @lokisgoodgirl @cake-writes @vickie5446 @lokidbadguy @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @all-envy-suyu @erynion-rogueofthegreenwoods @gortycs @katehawke @123forgottherest @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @peanutbutter-y-jams @wintermischief @gigglingtigger @kinky-faerie

[wands-natsthing]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

HEYYYY HIII HELLOOOO long time I KNOW IM SORRY LSKDKD AND I KNOW I SAID THE WEEKEND BUT I GOT SICK

buttt just to give a lil info, since it has been so long since I updated I put the last bit of chapter 2 at the beginning of this just as a refresher I guess!! And more overall story info (R=23) (W=30) (N=34)

I also wrote kinda like a Wanda’s POV of what happened in the janitors closet so let me know if you want that!!

Feedback is more than welcome!! I love reading all your comments they make me feel like my writing isn’t shit 🤓 and they make me smile :)) I also tried to make this as open as possible this is for everybody!! (I hope I worded that right) I mean as in there rlly no descriptions of r

Warnings: I really don’t think there are any besides maybe it starts to seem a little homewreckery BUT ITS NOT I PROMISE!!

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: You guys come out the closet and have lunch idk

"Who's the woman standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um, that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught English class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

Your heart dropped. 

“Your- your wife…You got married? You ask with a tremble in your voice. 

“Yeah, I did um just a few years ago…” 

“Oh- that's uh, that's cool. Um, congratulations.” 

Wanda’s smile faltered slightly as she sensed the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The joy in her eyes seemed to dim ever so slightly, replaced by a hint of concern.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said quietly, her voice softening. "Maybe we could talk more about everything over Lunch?"

Your eyes snapped up at that. The thought of having lunch with her again all these years later was just too enticing to pass up, no matter how many messing feelings it brought again.

"Lunch? Are you- are you sure?" You asked with a hopeful smile on your face.

"Yes, I'm more than sure. I am positive." She reassured you with a gentle touch of her hand running up and down your forearm.

"Okay, then yes I would love to."

"great! What about this weekend at 1:00 at the cafe we saw each other last week? (a/n: Its Wednesday)

"That's perfect!"

"Okay good then it's a date." She said scrunching her nose up in a way that always made your heart melt.

Date.

"I am so sorry, but I better get back, can't leave Natasha by herself for too long with all those parents and kids out there, But I can't wait for our lunch date!"

Date. There goes that word again.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry for keeping you for so long,” you replied, trying to shake off the rush of emotions swirling in your mind.

Wanda smiled warmly, as if she could sense the turmoil within you. “No need to apologize. It’s nice to catch up, I've missed you."

You both stood there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. The bustling sounds from the school faded slightly as you locked eyes.

“Alright, I better get going,” she said after a pause, and you could hear the softer undertones of sadness in her voice. “But I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” you replied, offering her a genuine smile.

Wanda gave you one last look, her expression revealing a mix of excitement and a hint of uncertainty before she opened the door of the janitor's closet.

You took a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat. You had so many thoughts swirling through your head but at the same time, you felt as if you couldn't think.

As you finally turned to head out back to your car, you felt a strange sense of hope take root inside you.

You couldn’t help but replay the moment in your mind, the surprise of learning she was married mixed with the thrill of the upcoming lunch. It was complicated, but one thing was clear: you wanted to explore this. No matter how much it might hurt in the end.

The rest of the week felt like an eternity. You replayed snippets of conversations you had shared over the years, moments of laughter, and even the unspoken feelings that had lingered in the air. Each thought made the anticipation for the weekend grow stronger.

Finally, Saturday arrived. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully selecting your outfit for lunch. The end of summer's warmth lingered in the air, but a hint of fall was beginning to whisper in the breeze. You chose a lightweight mustard-yellow sweater, perfect for the transition between seasons. Its soft knit hugged your figure comfortably.

For pants, you chose a pair of high-waisted, olive-green corduroy pants that offered both warmth and style. The slightly flared legs provided a retro vibe, making them an ideal choice for early autumn. On your feet, you wore your black Converse. Always a staple in your outfits.You topped everything off with a silver chain that went slightly past your collarbone and small gold hoops that reflected off the light.

Never understood the big deal about mixing silver and gold.

And a light spritz of your favorite fall-inspired perfume, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood, completed the look, a warm scent perfect for the season.

As the clock ticked closer to 1:00, doubts and anxiety started creeping in.

What if she doesn't show?

Is my outfit bad?

Does my breath smell? You make sure to brush your teeth one more time before leaving.

When you arrived at the cafe, a wave of shyness washed over you. You spotted Wanda almost immediately. She was sitting at a cozy table, her reddish auburn hair catching the sunlight, and you wondered how someone could look both familiar and new after all this time.

You exchanged hesitant glances. The soft murmur of conversations around you felt louder than usual, amplifying the butterflies in your stomach.

As you approached, her face lit up, the warmth of her smile easing your nerves.

 “You made it!” she exclaimed, standing up to greet you with an embrace that felt both comfortable and electrifying.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, taking a seat across from her.

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken words. Both of you are unsure what to say.

Fortunately, as if sensing the tension in the air, a waitress approached to take your order.

"I'll have a hot caramel latte and a turkey and cheese sandwich, please," Wanda said with a soft smile. You returned her smile, appreciating the familiarity of her order.

Both Wanda and the waitress turned to you, waiting to see what you'd chosen.

"I'll have the same, please. Thank you."

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

You sipped your coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands, trying to ground yourself. Slowly but surely the conversation began to flow just like how it had all those years ago.

It was as if nothing had changed. 

As if neither had gone through drastic changes.

Yet, even as the conversation deepened, the thought of her marriage lingered at the back of your mind and the fact that they worked together. Soon within a day, they both would be your coworkers.

Curiosity nudged at you, and you found yourself leaning in.

“What’s it like? Teaching together, I mean? That must be… interesting.”

Just like in the janitor's closet, she was surprised by your sudden question.

Though she laughed softly, easing the tension. “It is, we balance each other out. She’s all about structure, while I tend to go with the flow. It makes for some creative lesson plans."

Though you were more so wondering if they shared any lunches like the two of you did; 

You'll take it.

Gathering up as much composure as possible you try to sound as "mature" as you possibly can. “Sounds like a great dynamic,” you replied, picturing the two of them in a classroom full of students, bouncing ideas off each other.

"Yeah it is, we make a great team." Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up.

 "You know, I would love for the two of you to formally meet."

Your heart raced and your mind went blank.

What the fuck?

"Wait...I'm sorry, what?"

Wanda repeated herself slowly, not sure how to take your response.

“Oh, um, really? Your wife?” You stammered, shocked from the sudden/not so sudden twist in conversation. "I mean are you- are you sure that is a good idea? You know, me being me?"

Wanda smiled at you comfortingly. "Of course, it's a good idea, I mean besides you were gonna meet her soon anyway with school starting Monday-"

She stops mid-sentence playing with the necklace adorning her neck, a telltale sign 

She's nervous.

"Natasha also already knows exactly who you are to me." 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

𝐨𝐨𝐩 🤓

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯!!

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii