#not sure if it was only because of that sword's dance though.

[proxycrit]

Decided to write some oneshots! Less focus on Zelda and Link, and more on FAMILIAR FAMILIAR’s building blocks.

(Mineru and Naborus’s slow dance are interrupted by the horrors of war.)

(Fic under cut)

——— The First Act (Naborus)

Mineru seems to be actively trying to woo Naborus, and to her disgust, it works.

The zonai woman seems to haunt her steps, with a sly smile and cheeky wink. She slips next to Naborus during morning drills with foods meant to entice, and into evening bouts of paperwork with her little machines, fiddling and tinkering and always ready to help. Even her haughty hat she faffs around with is all but seared into the back of Naborus’s eyelids every time she closes them.

“You do understand,” she tried once, and only once, “that I am a gerudo chief and you are the last of the zonai, serving under the hylian empire.” She enunciates these hylian words as clear as she can, careful with this new language she forced herself to learn within four grueling months.

“Of course,” Mineru responded back in a heavily accented Gerudo. “But I still want to try.”

Naborus has always had a soft spot for fools. She doesn’t bring up their allegiances again, but Mineru redoubles her efforts. Naborus doesn’t explicitly accept them, but she doesn’t refute them either. She even finds herself automatically bringing two mugs of heavily steeped tea to her study one night. Mineru was waiting for her, eyes bright and ears perked.

It’s Ganondorf that ultimately cuts through the stalemate.

“You like her,” he accuses.

“I tolerate her,” Naborus grumbles. “She’s at most a desert lizard I water from time to time, so she doesn’t die.”

Ganondorf gives her a truly bombastic side eye. Naborus doesn’t mention his strange dance around Rauru, even though she’s tempted to point out his hypocrisy. Her soft spot for fools is a weakness.

“She’s working for the princess,” he warns. “We need time to ratify the treaty, and she’s a distraction.”

“She’s a guest,” Naborus responds, temper flaring. “And I don’t see you crunching the paper recently, little brother.”

They glare at each other, bristling like desert cats, before ganondorf’s shoulders slump. He’s been sleeping less and less lately. The dark circles under his eyes have been becoming more and more difficult to hide.

“It’s not safe,” he repeats helplessly. “There’s always a cost, with the hylians. You know this.”

“I know this,” Naborus responds wearily. “But Princess Sonia is different from her mother. Not because of any legends,” she adds, before her brother can protest, “but because she’s reaching out first. The zora and rito are perfectly happy. We have to trust the same amnesty will be given to us.”

“It’s different,” Ganondorf spits, “when their legends don’t constantly paint us as thieves and war mongers.” And Sonia, despite her stature, is part of that legend. That damned sword speaks to it.

The hylians want the great gerudo burial site. They want it for the precious minerals crystallizing deep under the sands, that glow green from the dead. They need it, for the war against the rising tide of undead monsters that threaten them all— gerudo, hylian, all the races of hyrule really. It already took most the zonai.

Naborus knows, deep down, she can not let the gerudo be the next.

But it hurts, to see their culture be trodden underfoot for this. And it hurts more, to hear Ganondorf’s urgent whispers that the Hylians will not stop.

Mineru and Rauru are the last of their kind. Surely there must be other zonai, hidden in pockets deep below or up in the sky, but the zonai (the only zonai) Naborus knows are her two guests. They don’t remember their mother tongue. They were raised by the Goron and Zora and eat hylian food and wear hylian clothes and practice hylian alchemy.

For all intents and purposes, they are hylian. They are what will lay in store for the gerudo, either it be through ganondorf’s terror of a slow cultural death, or naborus’s terror of a steady massacre.

And then Ganondorf finds those ruins, and it all goes to shit.

And then he tries to kill Sonia. Tries to infect Rauru with that malice. Becomes unknowable to her, and calls her traitor, as if he didn’t throw everything away for their shared dream.

Five days later, she arranges for a meeting.

Six days later, Sonia and Rauru show up at her doorstep.

“You can have the burial grounds,” Naborus says, and finds the dull ember of delight in Rauru’s flinch. Good. See him remember his own damned past, and let him know of his crime. Mockingly, she inclines her head to Princess Sonia. “At your behest, your highness.”

Sonia looks back. Implacable. Stone. She’s four heads shorter than Naborus, and yet her presence is crushing. Is this who you love, Naborus wanted to ask Mineru. Is this who you serve?

The rest of the negotiations is a blur. Rito will come help gerudo civilians escape the bombed remains of her city. Her people will find shelter along the coast, if they so wish. All Sonia needs is the Zonaite, and willing hands to take up arms and fight.

Fight who, she does not specify. But judging from her gaze flickering to the empty spot next to Naborus, it’s not difficult to infer.

When Mineru hesitates in front of Naborus’s door later that night, Naborus finally snaps. That dull apathy and shock suddenly becomes a monsoon of rage and betrayal, and she grabs the mug and throws it as hard as she can at the wall, an animal scream rising in her chest.

Mineru flinches back, ears pressed against her head. Naborus sinks, gasping for air, and curls into a wretched ball on the floor. Thin hands carefully encircle against her, and she leans into mineru’s chest, and weeps for her stupid baby brother, for her foolish naive self, for hoping for a beautiful future.

Tomorrow, the gerudo will have the war Ganondorf predicted. Tomorrow, Naborus will bow in front of the Hylian regency.

Mineru mumbles something into her hair, that she is unable to catch. But the zonai’s grip is tight, and she hums a song slow and low.

“What is that?” Naborus croaks, head still pillowed in Mineru’s arms.

There’s a shift of muscle under Naborus as Mineru readjusts herself into a more comfortable position, and then— “my mother taught me this.”

“Ah? I thought gorons are all men?”

Mineru laughs. “In hylian, yes they are called men. But no, I’m talking about my birth mother.”

“Oh,” and because Naborus has little filter, “what’s her name?”

Mineru went silent at that. Naborus feels a rush of self hatred. She shouldn’t have asked. She presumes much from somebody who isn’t even her citizen.

“I don’t remember,” Mineru says. She smiles at Naborus, eyes half squinted. “I just called her Mah. Zonai baby teeth give us terrible lisps, and young children don’t really know their parents as people, per say. Just protectors.”

“I’m sorry,” Naborus says. She wants Mineru to hum that song again, but doesn’t know how to ask.

“It’s okay,” Mineru says. “I don’t remember her. Its hard to miss what you don’t really know.”

“No,” Naborus protests. “It’s not okay at all. You shouldn’t have to-“ she back pedals, looks for anything to say at all, and settles on squeezing Mineru’s waist. “You deserve more than just a song.”

Mineru starts to hum again. Seeing Naborus unwilling to continue, the zonai sighs, cutting into the wound if the situation.

“You did the right thing.”

“Did I?”

“You want to save lives. There is no shame in that.”

“And what of the children who won’t remember their mother’s names?” Naborus asks, hurting. What of her people’s history?

“They’ll be alive to wonder, won’t they?”

Mineru’s voice sounded flat and far away.

And Naborus has nothing to say to that.

(Mineru tells herself this is for the best, and that she and Rauru turned out perfectly fine.

It’s a lie she’s grown comfortable with.)

———— The Second Act (Mineru)

When Ganondorf cuts her throat, she can’t bring herself to be surprised.

Scared? Yeah. But surprised? Not really.

She took his sister from him. She represents hylian royalty. She’s collateral to Rauru. A sort of message, if you will.

You took my sister. I will take yours.

Fucking idiot. Naborus will never forgive him now, and neither would Rauru. He has single handedly severed any remaining goodwill, any chance of recollection, with this stunt, and the worst part is he probably did it on purpose.

Ganondorf looks different. His eyes are tired. The infection from his arm has spread to under his jaw. Baby Dragneel’s been practicing magic, she sees. He reaches down and gently plucks the secret stone from Mineru’s neck, and suddenly it’s worse.

She’s never going to be able to tell Naborus her secret. She’s never going to be able to give that stone to her beloved. She-

A scream splits the night air. It can’t be from her, because all her air is being stolen from her throat before it can reach her tongue, which tastes like iron. It can’t be from Ganondorf, who’s mouth is clenched shut, secret stone (alchemist’s stone) shining in his hand.

Ganondorf is blasted back by a wave of light.

The world is greying. Mineru feels the burn of Sonia’s time magic entrap her, freeze her. It hurts. It hurts more then her throat. Everything is tinged yellow and Mineru can’t move, and this must be what death is— caught between a peaceful slumber and agonizing living. She’s suffocating slowly. She’s scared.

Rauru’s face comes in focus. His hands are shaking. She can feel him pressing desperately against her as in the distance, Sonia, still clad in her white dress, chases the shadows away.

Mineru’s eyes slip close.

When she wakes up, she is surprised she’s not dead. She tries to say something, but the searing pain stops her, and her muffled jerk causes the lump at her feet to quiver. Rauru looks up, eyes bloodshot.

“Mimi?” He asks, voice hoarse. Mineru tries to say something, but the pain flares and she settles for a thumbs up. Rauru’s eyes start watering, and he presses his face into her hands.

“Mimi,” he whispers, and mineru pets his ears, like they were children again. She didn’t mean to scare him. She waits for him to collect himself, and takes the chance to look around the room.

It’s a nice room. The architecture is distinctly zoran, with luminous stones embedded into the walls for light and kelp thread curtains for privacy. It smells like fragrant lotus root and medicinal herbs. There’s a small study in the corner, filled with papers and a single potted specimen of a sundelion.

Rauru’s study, she realizes with a rush of fondness. This must be his room, when he was apprenticing under that Zoran healer.

“I…”

Her attention snaps back to her brother. At her attentive look, he quails. It’s not right. Rauru rarely quails, and mostly preens, like a peacock. At her impatient look, he closes his eyes, and Mineru’s stomach sinks.

“Ruta’s afraid there might be complications,” Rauru continues in a rush. “You’ll be on observation for possible lung clots and brain damage and infection.”

Mineru breathes.

“We couldn’t save your throat,” Rauru confesses, looking small. “Ruta cleared up your lungs and I managed to stabilize you, but. We couldn’t, your.”

That’s okay, she wants to say. I’m alive. That’s more than I expected.

But she can’t say that.

With her nonanswer, Rauru bows his head. Mineru grabs on to his hand before he can flee, and squeezes.

After a moment’s hesitation, he squeezes back.

Mineru doesn’t take her new found muteness well. She struggles with hylian sign, and finds a near apoplectic rage in being unable to quickly explain her thoughts.

Writing isn’t the same, she wrote in harsh angry scratches with her chalkboard she’s taken to carrying around.

Naborus, bless her, has fashioned a straw for her with glass when they meet up for tea. Mineru used to haunt Naborus, enraptured by this woman and her no nonsense attitude and her unexplainable kindness. Now Naborus haunts her with bedding and sustenance.

They should be on the battlefield. The malice has overtaken another settlement, Mineru heard. But when she dug, she was sent away.

“More pillows?” Naborus asks, and Mineru holds up two thumbs for an aggressive agreement.

Can you get me construct f12, she writes when Naborus comes back wielding two cream pillows. Twinges, can fix, she slashes quickly at Naborus’s frown.

“You’re working?”

No time, Mineru scribbles. And at Naborus’s hesitant glance, she adds: bored.

“You should be resting.”

Can’t.

She will have nightmares again. Rauru promises the sundelion specimens he’s working on will stop the malice from taking hold, but she still dreams of that red pulsating mass, infecting her, burrowing into her.

She underlines Can’t twice, and hopes Naborus will get it.

Naborus drags a hand down her face, and exhales roughly. “Shit. Okay. I’ll go get your construct, but if you need any help at all you tell me, alright?”

At Mineru’s flat glare, she grimaces. “Sorry. I’ll get you a bell.”

The two sit in companionable silence after that. The construct mineru chose is a small, light weight thing. She is considering adding some sort of projectile weapon when she hears the low rhythmic hum of a song.

Oh, Mineru thinks. This is the song my mother taught me, and I taught you. Oh, Mineru thinks after suddenly overwhelmed with the realization— she will never sing her mother’s song again. She will never be able to join the chorus that was her last, remaining link. She will never-

Mineru wipes her eyes angrily. She can learn how to play a harmonica. Or a flute. The option isn't actually gone, just changed. She should just be glad she’s alive.

Doesn’t stop the tears, though.

When Naborus quietly holds her arms out, Mineru doesn’t fight the pull and slumps into her friend’s arms, and tries not to think of how Ganondorf stole not only her project’s notes, but her history from her too.

He’s Naborus’s brother.

She hates him more, for it.

[zroronoas]

soft spot

how zoro shows his love for you!

a/n: i haven't seen zoro in like 30 episodes and it's making me sad so!! pls pls pls listen to soft spot by keshi while you read this 😔 i promise it'll be 1000x better

slight spoiler if you haven't reached thriller bark yet!

-

-zoro hates to go out. he would much rather stay on the ship doing what he does best; napping and training.

but he'll do it for you.

he doesn't want to deal with the crowds of people nor does he want to be involved with the rest of the crew causing trouble, he just wants his peace and quiet on the sunny.

but the moment you try to run off the ship and into the island by yourself, he's immediately following you. if he's lifting weights, those are dropped right away. if he's taking a nap, he's wide awake once he senses that you're about to leave.

"i thought you didn't want to come down?" you ask him. zoro only grunts and looks away. you don't see it but there's a tinge of pink on his cheeks and he's stuffing his hands in his pockets to make himself feel less awkward.

though he is the usual grouch that he is and he isn't the most talkative, he spends the entire day doing whatever you want. the day is spent looking through shops, trying different snacks, and you even take him to a sword shop because you know he loves looking around.

-it's widely known that zoro loves to drink. the man will down several cups like it's some kind of sport. you, on the other hand, absolutely hate drinking.

zoro knows you get uncomfortable when he drinks too much and you don't want to ban him from it completely; so you compromise. he'll cut down the amount he drinks, just to make sure you're happy and comfortable.

-whenever the crew has the usual celebration after a victory, you love to dance around to brook's music. you'll pull anyone you can to dance around with you, especially zoro. it's always a struggle, he's blushing and grumbling about how he doesn't dance. and though you can't really call him standing there and you swinging his arms around dancing, you appreciate that he does at least that.

zoro would prefer to sit in the corner drinking, but if dancing around with you means that he gets to be close to you and feel your touch; he's all for it.

he doesn't like anybody and he doesn't understand why it's different with you. he'd walk through the ends of hell if it means that it'll make you happy.

[easybeezy]

Edward Hart’s guide to getting the girl: how to get your rocks off without looking like a total geed.

This is because of Edward and Jin in the new chapter—blame them not me. (i will come back and edit it later)

Part one of six

Jin x MC

He’d been watching the little human prince fail for months. At first it was amusing but then somewhere between the fourth and eighth blunder it just became sad.

The first time he became aware of the little prince’s crush had been right after the Frostheim ball at the beginning of the year.

He’d heard about the ball after the fact. Not from you or the little human prince though. He’d heard it from a third party, a very drunk third party.

Second years, from any house but especially Frostheim, were not frequent occupants at Rui’s bar. Ed wasn’t entirely sure why but frankly he didn’t have the energy to care. Frostheim in general seemed to stay away from all other houses so, when he wandered down the stairs looking for Rui—he’d accidently lost the password to his Netflix account again—he was surprised to see the transfer student as well as the second year Romeo was always chasing around commiserating at the bar.

Rui wasn’t with them. The late hour as well as the slow day had sent him down into the cellar to clean and prep for the upcoming weekend rush. Leaving the second years to fend for themselves.

An untouched long island iced tea sat slowly warming in front of the brunet Ed suspected was called Lucas. Beside him the blond one was sobbing, practically supine on the wobbly bar stool and with three empty glasses surrounding him.

“He danced with her all night!” Wailed the blond. “I missed my chance.”

“It was only one song,” Lucas reassured, placing an awkward hand in the middle of his friend’s spine. “I’m sure there will be plenty of—”

“Did they look happy though?” The blond interrupted, lifting his soggy head from the table to look at his friend.

“It’s hard to say.” Lucas said frowning in thought.

This seemed to relax the blond, but this was only a temporary reprieve as Lucas immediately followed up with, “he was quite protective of her on the mission, and he did buy her a dress for the ball.”

The blond, coiled tight like a spring, let out a despondent sigh and let his head fall with a smack against the bar top.

“Three actually.” Lucas suddenly corrected himself.

“What? three!” snapped the blond then, seeing Lucas’s nod, he let out a grumbled, “of course he wins her over with money.”

The blond stared into the middle distance, swaying on the stool in a manner that sent Lucas fretting by his side. “How do you know all of this any way?” he asked, his voice taking on a dreamlike quality, “you spent the whole night with me.”

“I helped her pick which dress to wear.” Lucas had said it casually, almost flippantly but immediately realised his error upon seeing his friend’s crushed expression.

“What—you helped her…where was I? why did she ask you to help and not me.” His lip was quivering dangerously as fresh tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “Does she not trust my judgement when it comes to fashion? Does she think I dress badly? Because I just don’t have the same budget as—”

“No, no,” Lucas quickly reassured, trying to temper the immanent flood of tears. “You were just in your make up classes that’s all.”

The blond pouted and let out a sigh but thankfully didn’t begin sobbing again. Instead, he huffed and reached across to grab the untouched iced tea, only to have it snatched out of his reach.

Rui, having returned from the basement, deftly slid the drink out of reach and replaced it with a tall glass of water. Then without missing a beat he asked, “are you talking about the new honour student? She’s a real cutie huh.”

“I think you might have some competition from the little human prince.” Ed said from his spot in the shadows.

At the sound of his voice the two second years both jumped. With the blond falling from his stool in a heap and Lucas taking out a pair of twin swords, his boyish features transformed into a scowl as he readied himself for a fight.

Ed observed the pair—one battle ready the other cowering behind his friend—in amusement before turning to Rui who—used to Ed’s fondness for skulking around in the darkness—was staring at him unamused.  

“It’s just Ed, the captain of Obscuary, Luca.” Rui explained in a bored drawl as he cleaned glasses behind the bar. “No need for violence.”

“But—but isn’t the captain of Obscuary a dangerous v-vampire?” the blond squealed scrambling up to his feet as he hid behind the bar stool.

Rui just scoffed, turning to put away glasses while Ed stepped out of the shadows, putting his hands up in surrender. “Dangerous?” he purred, “I am a gentle and delicate soul.”

That earned a cackle from Rui, “delicate, yes. Gentle…not so much.”

Ed pouted at his friend, “Rui you wound me. I have never been anything but tender.”

Rui deadpanned at Ed and grumbled out a quiet, “tell that to my roses, Gramps.”

Ed recalled falling asleep in a particularly soft bed of flowers the other day but if Rui didn’t want them to be used as a mattress he shouldn’t have arranged them in such a pillowy way.

He left his vice-captain and turned to the two second years. Lucas or Luca as Rui had called him was still poised at the ready, one of his swords edging ever closer to Ed’s throat.

“Luca?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s your name?”

Luca froze, looking up at Ed as a myriad of thoughts, all baffled, swept through his head, “…yes.”

“How strange…” Ed hummed, joining the pair at the bar. He sent the blond a smile as he sat down. peering into his frenzied mind for anything of interest but, alas, there was nothing but fear, “and you are?”

“Don’t tell him Kaito,” spat Luca, his swords still at the ready, “he’ll steal your name if you do.”

 Ed stifled a laugh behind a gloved hand as he assessed the strange pair.

“You’re thinking of fairies,” Rui informed Luca, “besides you just told him Kaito’s name anyway.”

Luca froze, “oh!” an embarrassed blush coating his cheeks as, with his head down, he finally returned his swords to their sheaths.

Ed turned back to Kaito who had shuffled a few seats down his eyes still darting between Ed and the door. “So,” Ed began with a smile, “you have a crush on our dear honour student?”

From his thoughts alone Ed could tell that wasn’t quite the case. Whether he himself knew it or not he didn’t really have a crush. The beginnings of one maybe but Kaito wanted for one thing and one thing only—a girlfriend. The girl in question didn’t really matter, the poor honour student was simply the first to smile at him.

“How could I not?” sobbed Kaito, “you saw her tonight she was radiant.”

Ed might’ve reminded Kaito that he hadn’t in fact been at the Frostheim ball but a glimpse into his thoughts and he saw the honour student just as Kaito had. Done up in an expensive gown, simple makeup and hair, and on the arm of the Frostheim prince.

That was when he first became aware of the little prince’s crush, but it certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, it was only a few days later when wandering the campus—and avoiding his chores back at Obscuary—that Ed was once again confronted with the little prince and his feelings.

“Tell me. While you were picking dumb fights, where was she?”

The Frostheim captain and that same second year from the bar Luca, were staring each other down in the courtyard just outside of Vagastrom. At the little prince’s side looking stressed and a little ashamed was the honour student.

Ed still hadn’t seen the honour student. He’d gotten glimpse’s from within other students minds but never in person, never up close. Seeing someone else through the mind of another was never an accurate assessment anyway. People, no matter how objective they believe they are, can’t help but let their emotions rule their minds.

Seeing her through Kaito, after the ball, the honour student was radiant, practically glowing as though she were some kind of angelic being. Kaito didn’t see her as a real person she was a concept to him, the physical embodiment of all his romantic hopes and ideals. So, when she walked through his mind she didn’t walk, she floated. When she smiled it was blindingly bright, and her laugh sounded more like wind chimes than any real laugh Ed had heard before.

And then, when his jealousy blinded him, her image changed again. No longer was she just dancing with the Frostheim prince she was fawning over him. Practically tripping over herself to hold his hand or touch his arm.

Seeing her now, with only his own mind to contend with she looked far more real. More in line with how Luca viewed her than Kaito. Still pretty and still with a glow, or perhaps warmth, but she was real. Not some mythical goddess.

The second year, brave as always—perhaps foolishly so—didn’t back down in the face of Jin’s glare. Instead, At the ringside, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes.” Jin spat, stepping forward as the honour student fretted beside the pair. “At the ringside, surrounded by the rest of the scum from Vagastrom. Alone.”

Ed almost laughed. Whilst it was true that Vagastrom could get rowdy they were hardly the most dangerous house, not when compared to Sinostra or Obscuary.

His comment seemed to break Luca’s resolve slightly, his scowl simmering as his eyes flicked over to the honour student. “If anything happened, I would have stepped in immediately.”

The little prince took a step closer and dropped his voice down to something not so outwardly threatening but far more dangerous, “after something happens is too late.”

This seemed to finally shatter the rest of the tension with Luca’s angry scowl fading away completely. He quickly turned to the honour student and bowed low. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put you in danger.”

Interestingly the honour student seemed to be even more concerned about Luca’s concern than she was about the fight that had just occurred. Quickly waving away his apology as she stepped around Jin to speak to Luca.

“It’s not your fault. You were just sticking up for a friend. Besides, I’m fine.”

Jin, who had been watching the exchange in silence, flared his nostrils in anger. Then, with a clenched jaw, he spat, “both of you stop messing around in other houses.”

Then he was turning and storming away, much to the surprise of the two second years.

“And stay away from the Vagastrom captain.” The little prince called out over his shoulder, “that’s not a warning. It’s an order.”

Ed smirked as he stepped out from the shadows watching as the pair watched the retreating figure of the Frostheim captain in confusion. But Ed wasn’t confused. For someone who had the reputation of being cold-hearted the little prince sure did make his affections obvious.

It wasn’t until much later that the little prince’s crush graced Ed’s doorstep again. Most likely due to his propensity to remain indoors he heard little of the prince and the honour student. Every now and then a morsel of gossip would make the deary trek down to Obscuary and he’d get an update. Like the rumour of the honour student becoming the prince’s new servant or how he had bought her a yacht on a whim one evening. But other than those small moments he didn’t hear much.

It wasn’t until after Lyca had joined Obscuary and that he got an insight into the situation.

With their newly appointed guard dog came frequent visits from the honour student, who, out of some wrapped sense of responsibility, had taken one look at the abandoned dog and decided he needed a best friend.

Their friendship was sweet, even the most cynical part of Ed’s heart was moved by their often-frenzied relationship. It wasn’t just the honour student who was charmed by Lyca’s brash nature though. He would never openly admit it but even without reading his mind Ed knew Rui appreciated Lyca’s company—and not just because it meant the honour student began visiting more.

Before Lyca had joined them much of the day at Obscuary had been spent in silence. Ed had been alive so long that now days seemed to pass by like seconds. He could go a month without ever having seen Rui and wouldn’t even notice it.

It wasn’t much better when they did speak. Their conversations often devolving into talk of curses and death. Neither topic bothered Ed, but Rui was younger than him and still easily wounded.

And when others did grace their hallowed halls, they made a direct b-line for the bar. Rui spent much of his days alone, lamenting the fact that he was now a danger to those he loved and when his friends did visit it was always through a heavy fog of alcohol.

So, Lyca’s presence—even though it meant more cleaning—was a breath of fresh air for the young reaper.

And for Ed, who had long since given up on the idea of being entertained, seeing the honour student’s bright smile was a soothing balm to his endless existence.

“When will you be finished?” Ed asked as he slinked his way into the bar.

The bar, only just having closed, was almost entirely empty. The only conscious occupants being the honour student, Rui and Lyca. With Rui desperately trying to help a horizontal Haru to his feet as Lyca and the honour student, who were tucked away in a booth, poured over Lyca’s homework.

“You promised you’d watch Kurosagi’s latest vod with me.” Ed whined as he slid into the booth seat beside the honour student and leaned his whole weight against her side.

“Leave her alone you moth-eaten Casanova, she doesn’t want to watch any of your youtub videos.”

Ed opened his mouth to correct the werewolf but was stopped by the honour student who tapped a light hand on his shoulder and offered him a tired smile. “We only have a few more questions to go over then I’m all yours.”

Ed made a dramatic show of swooning, “you tease me my dear.”

“Why don’t you help me get Haru back to Jabberwock?” Came Rui’s strained voice from the other side of the room.

All three of them turned to look at the struggling barman and the snoring Haru. Ed wrinkled his nose and waved Rui away, “I’m afraid I’m far too weak to carry someone as tall as him.”

Rui glared at his captain before, with a huff, he began dragging Haru from the bar. “Fine, don’t help. But don’t let the honour student walk back to Clementia alone.”

Ed hummed absentmindedly before turning back to the honour student. “You know…” He teased sliding closer so that his head now rested in her lap. “It is quite late.”

The honour student rolled her eyes down at the lethargic vampire but the warmth in her smile gave her away. Even without reading her mind he knew she didn’t mind his affection.

“Perhaps you should spend the night here?”

“Ugh!” Lyca spat across from them, his eyes narrowed at Ed. “Stop hitting on the honour student, she doesn’t want to stay the night with you.”

“Don’t fuss little pup,” Ed said sitting back up with a groan, “I would never dream of forcing her to spend the night with little old me. I’m sure Rui has a guest room prepared for her?”

Lyca still grumbling but not quite so outraged gave a firm nod towards the honour student, “the old man is right. It’s too late for you to walk back now.”

“Well,” the honour student looked between the two of them a smile creeping onto her face, “I’m not going to say no to a free bed and breakfast.”

Ed frowned, “breakfast?”

“Rui cooks us breakfast whenever I stay.” Explained the honour student, Lyca giving a nod of support.

“What,” Ed pouted, “he never cooks breakfast for me.”

“That’s because you never leave your room,” Lyca smirked.

“Or…” shrugged the honour student, “because you don’t eat.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Ed acquiesced still feeling somewhat left out.

Then a trill from within the honour students bag sounded and with a sigh she collected her phone. She answered the message as a small dent of worry appeared between her eyes.

A series of flashing images appeared within Ed’s mind as he watched the honour student. He saw the Frostheim prince first. The picture of relaxation, stretched out with one hand under his head, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. And then her voice imbued with worry flooded into his mind.

I can’t believe I forgot. He’s going to kill me…Ed’s going to kill me for missing youtube night. Again.

“It’s alright my love,” Ed cooed putting a hand on her shoulder, “we can postpone our evening if you have to attend to your boyfriend.”

He said it simply to test the waters. To see how much or how little progress the prince had made. He hadn’t expected her reaction to be quite so intense.

“What?” she exclaimed, “Jin isn’t my boyfriend! He’s…kind of my boss—a jailer more than anything.”

Her defence came fast but ed couldn’t help but smirk because even though she was shaking her head, denying any attachment to the Frostheim captain her thoughts told another story.

There was frustration there, annoyance definitely and some anger too but there was also a hint of something. Longing, butterflies, affection. It tasted like warmth and fresh honey as it entered Ed’s mind.

So, he thought, the little human prince has a chance.

Jin entered his room as he always did, with a slam of his door.

Usually, it was just an indicator to everyone in Frostheim that he was not to be disturbed but tonight he was actually furious.

When he had messaged the inspector earlier that evening asking her when she was planning on returning his blazer it had been—what he had thought—a thinly veiled attempt to see her again. It had been months since their last mission together and with the chancellor constantly sending her out with the other ghouls, he had barely seen her.

Of course, he had her running errands for him, but she always ran off right after. Never staying for more than a quick hello. So, when he went to meet her at Clementia and found her with that Obscuary mutt he was more than a little disappointed.

He would’ve been fine though. After all, she seemed to only think of the young werewolf as a friend. If he had found her with Rui or Haku then he might’ve had a need to worry.

It would’ve been fine, if the werewolf hadn’t accused him of bullying the honour student.

She’s not your servant to boss around!

Even thinking about it again sent his blood boiling.

He fell onto his bed with a huff, resting his head in his hands. Even the werewolf’s accusations wouldn’t have been so bad. He didn’t care what that idiot thought, why should he. He was Jin Fucking Kamurai. He didn’t need to listen to a random first year.

But then the honour student had turned to him, her eyes half filled with apprehension half with embarrassment and had apologised to him.

Sorry, Lyca just doesn’t understand. Next time I promise I won’t forget to return your laundry.

She bowed. Actually bowed. As though he was her boss and she was worried about having her pay docked.

He’d thought that he’d been incredibly obvious, Tohma had told him as much, but even after everything. After buying her dresses, after asking her to the ball, after giving her a boat, and making every stupid excuse to spend time with her. Even after all that she still just saw him as the Frostheim captain.

“It didn’t go well then?”

Jin was up and pointing the tip of his sword at the vampire’s throat before he had taken another step out of the shadows. He scowled wrinkling his nose at Edward who, casually as though there wasn’t a blade at his neck, held up his hands and smirked.

“What are you doing here, bloodsucker?” Jin hadn’t seen the vampire since the night the Laurel Crown was revived and before that they hadn’t spoken since the clash.

“Now, now,” the old vampire coaxed, not at all threated by Jin’s sword, “I came to offer my assistance.”

Jin snorted, “what on earth would I need your assistance with?”

“I know you have feelings for our darling inspector”—despite himself Jin’s scowl twitched— “and I also know you are struggling to capture her heart.”

Jin quickly composed himself and let his sword drop, tossing it on top of his bed. “Who says I have feelings for her?”

The vampire simply gave him a knowing look, “Please little prince. You bought her a boat and bribed the school to find the Kyklos…it’s not as though you’re subtle.”

“Okay, fine.” He huffed. “But why of all people would I ask for your help?” he smirked. “From what I hear these days you spend all your time locked in your room…doesn’t scream romance if you ask me.”

“Funny,” the vampire said his voice cold, “I hear the same things about you.”

Jin swallowed back his anger. If it were anyone else, he would’ve picked up his sword again but as he was fairly certain loss of limb wouldn’t stop the vampire, he just clenched his fists instead.

“I’ll have you know I’ve become quite close with the inspector recently.” The vampire held out a hand. “It’s up to you of course, but from what I’ve heard there’s no one else willing to help you.”

Jin scowled at the vampire a moment, the pair staring each other down. Edward wasn’t wrong, aside from Tohma Jin was mostly alone at Darkwick these days and his vice-captain’s advice boiled down to tell her how you feel or get over it.

So, already regretting it, Jin stepped forward and shook the vampire’s hand.

[yo-ri-su-ki]

Hello, how are you? I hope so ☺️😊, but once again I have two ideas for Reader x Vergil requests, you can feel free if you want to put the two together in one scenario or do both separately or... do neither hahahahah the first idea would be the first kiss between the two, but we know that Vergil doesn't have a sweet tooth and Reader is using mint lip gloss, but even so she is afraid of having ruined the kiss with the taste of the gloss.

The other scenario would be Vergil's first dance with Reader, I'm sure some human activities wouldn't be interesting to him, but some nights watching his brother and son dancing with their partners in the DMC room, he wonders how practical this human activity called dancing or rather slow waltz with Reader would be (it can be the same universe as Reader/Angel if that's okay)

Thank you, all the best to you always ❤️😘

Cool on the Lips

Vergil Sparda x f!reader!

An: HII BABES YEA SORRY I WAS BUSY WITH EXAMS AND SHIT. I like mint stuff so I chose these banners :33

Vergil wasn’t the type to hover. Not physically, anyway. Emotionally, his presence loomed like a sharpened shadow—watchful, unreadable, always a few steps removed.

So when he leaned in close enough that the fall of his silver hair brushed your cheek, your breath caught.

His gloved hand had tilted your chin with precise care, thumb skimming just beneath your lower lip.

You swallowed.

“Vergil...?”

His eyes flicked up to yours—blue and cutting, but soft around the edges in a way only you ever got to see.

There was a pause. Heavy, stretched, full of something unsaid.

And then—his lips pressed to yours. Cool, tentative, but firm.

You didn’t move at first. Too stunned. Too aware.

Because despite every fantasy, every late-night spiral of what it might feel like to kiss him… you’d forgotten about the lip gloss.

Mint. A sharp, icy taste. You could practically feel the artificial tingle lingering on your lips.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid—why did you wear that today of all days?

The kiss was brief. His mouth left yours like a secret being tucked away. He didn’t pull far, just looked at you—expression unreadable.

Your voice came out smaller than intended. “I—I’m sorry, I forgot I had that gloss on. It’s minty. I didn’t mean—if it ruined—”

His brow furrowed faintly. “Ruined?”

You glanced away. Embarrassed. “You don’t like sweets. I thought the taste might’ve... bothered you.”

Vergil was quiet again. Then he gently, very gently, brushed his knuckles down your cheek.

“I don’t enjoy sweetness for the sake of indulgence,” he said, voice low. “But... this was different.”

He leaned in again, breath brushing your lips as his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“Cool,” he murmured, as though to himself. “Unexpected... but not unpleasant.”

Then, in the faintest whisper of warmth, he kissed you again.

And this time, it lingered.You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye since the kiss.

It had been three days.

You thought things would go back to normal. That maybe it had been a moment of rare emotion on his part, and now he’d return to being the same stoic, unreadable man with a sword always within reach and feelings locked down like Fort Knox.

But no.

Things hadn’t gone back to normal.

Because now, every time he passed you in the manor halls, his gaze lingered. Not long. Not obvious. But long enough to make your heart skip and your knees threaten treason.

Worse, he didn’t say anything. No teasing. No comments. No... anything. Just those looks. Intense. Calculating. Like he was remembering it.

Meanwhile, you were spiraling. Had you overthought it? Did he regret it? What did the kiss mean? Did he even realize how much of your soul had cracked open during that single, cool press of his lips?

And now—now—you’d made the same mistake.

The mint lip gloss.

It sat cool and sticky on your lips as you stood outside the library where Vergil had told you to meet him.

You hadn’t even meant to put it on. It was habit, nervous reflex, like chewing your lip or tugging your sleeve.

Now here you were, again, a walking peppermint disaster with no tissues in sight, wondering if you could just chew your collar off to wipe it off.

The door creaked open before you could do anything that dramatic.

Vergil stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze steady. The candlelight behind him made his features sharp, his expression unreadable.

“You’re late.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you said, trying not to rub your mouth on your sleeve. “I, um… got distracted.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Then, calmly, he stepped aside to let you in.

You walked past him—tense, eyes fixed on the rug, trying not to think about how the scent of his coat brushed your skin in passing.

You settled at the desk, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as he moved behind you. Books rustled. Pages turned.

And then—

“You’re wearing it again.”

You froze. “Wearing what?”

“The lip gloss.”

Oh god.

You turned to look at him, mortified. “I—Sorry! I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking, I just—it was habit.”

Vergil tilted his head slightly. “I didn’t say it was a problem.”

You blinked.

“...You didn’t?”

He stepped closer, and the air shifted. That same quiet intensity returned—one that made your breath catch and your stomach coil in nervous knots.

“I would not have invited you here,” he said, voice like the quiet pull of a tide, “if I found it unpleasant.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I recall it quite vividly,” he added, almost to himself.

You swallowed. “The kiss?”

His eyes flicked to yours. “Yes.”

Your heart threatened to crack open again.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things,” you whispered.

“I don’t.”

He reached out—slowly, deliberately—and touched your chin again, just like that first time.

“But I’m learning,” he said, “that I might make an exception.”

He brushed his thumb just beneath your lower lip, and your breath stilled.

“For your taste,” he said softly, “I’ll endure the sweetness.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So… you’re saying I’m… tolerable?”

Vergil’s mouth quirked slightly.

“Barely.”

But then—he kissed you again. Not rushed. Not out of obligation.

This time, he tasted the mint. Paused. Kissed deeper.

And you swore—swore—that the quietest hum of approval left him before he pulled away.

You stared up at him, dazed. Blinking.

“…You don’t have to keep kissing me every time I wear it, you know.”

His eyes glinted.

“Then stop giving me excuses.”

The moment was perfect.

Vergil’s lips had just left yours—his thumb still brushing your jaw, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. You were still breathless, cheeks flushed, dizzy with the feeling of his mouth lingering on yours like mint and moonlight.

And then—

“Well, well, well.”

You both froze.

Slowly, painfully, your eyes turned toward the doorway.

There stood Dante, half-eaten slice of pizza in hand, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn't just walked in on the most emotionally vulnerable moment of your life.

Vergil went stone cold—hand still on your face, lips still parted ever so slightly from the kiss, blue eyes narrowing with the force of a thousand unsaid death threats.

Dante grinned, unbothered. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your... peppermint smooch fest, but I was wondering who stole all the hot water. Guess I have my answer.”

“Leave,” Vergil said, tone frigid.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Dante replied, sauntering in like he owned the place. “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. You’re blushing, bro. Blushing! On the face!”

“I said—”

“What kind of lip gloss was it?” Dante asked, turning to you with a huge grin. “Mint? Cinnamon? Does he have a flavor ranking now? I gotta write this down.”

“Dante,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Please go.”

“Not until I get a kiss ranking from Vergil. Or at least an embarrassed scoff. Come on, this is historic.”

Vergil took a step forward.

Dante was out the door in a blink.

“Worth it!” he yelled from down the hall.

You let your hands drop, blinking in disbelief. “...He’s never going to let us live this down, is he?”

Vergil let out the deepest, most exasperated sigh you’d ever heard.

“No,” he said darkly. “But he’ll regret it.”

And then, to your absolute surprise—

He turned back to you, eyes calm again, and gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“As for you…” he added, gaze flicking to your lips again, “…I don’t share.”

Your cheeks burned.

“…Is that a threat?”

“A warning.”

It was late.

The lights were low. The manor was silent. And after everything—the kiss, the teasing, the Dante—you were lying beside Vergil in his room, your limbs tangled up in the warm quiet of almost-sleep.

And he was very clearly the big spoon.

Not that he would admit that.

You were tucked beneath his coat, chest to chest, one of his arms curled around your waist and the other draped over your shoulder like a protective barricade. His nose was buried just above your ear, breathing even, heartbeat slow.

You barely dared to speak. But curiosity got the better of you.

“…You’re snuggling me.”

“Incorrect,” he murmured, voice already thick with drowsiness. “You’re simply within my range.”

You smiled, not buying it for a second. “So your arm being around me like a security blanket is just... strategic positioning?”

“Yes.”

“And your leg tangled with mine?”

“Efficient.”

“And your face pressed against my hair?”

“…Coincidental.”

You laughed softly, then shifted so your nose tucked against his throat. “You know, for someone so cold, you’re really warm.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his collarbone. “Too late.”

His arms tightened around you for a brief second—silent, instinctual—and then relaxed again.

“…Sleep,” he muttered.

But just before your eyes drifted shut, you heard him whisper, almost too softly to catch:

“…You smell like mint.”

You smiled.

And this time, you didn't apologize for it.

Made by @yo-ri-su-ki, do not copy or translate my work! Reposts and likes appreciated!! Also if you like this post and want to see more like this, consider following!!

An: THANK YOU IM SORRY I COULDN'T GET TO IT SOONER IM BUSY WITH EXAMS BUT THATS OVER SO ILL BE ABLE TO POST MORE FREQUENTLY!! LOVE YOU BYYEEEE MWAAAAH <3

[aventurineswife]

👀 Attack on Titan mention on one of your posts…! I’m inspired, huhuhu~ 🤭

Can we get maybe Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Feixiao, Blade, Gallagher or Gepard sparring with a young Galaxy Ranger Reader (prolly about Yanqing’s age) who fights like Annie and/or Eren? Platonic, of course!

With Every Strike, We Find Ourselves

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Blade x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Teen!Galaxy Ranger!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Sparring Scenes, Mentorship Themes, Combat Training, Action-Packed, Annie Leonhart and Eren Yeager Inspired Fighting Style(probably ooc because idk much about them).

Warnings: Mild Violence, Competitive Atmosphere, Mentions of Injury, Combat Realism.

The sparring ring buzzed with quiet anticipation. Jing Yuan lounged on the edge of the training arena, his eyes half-closed, as though he hadn’t noticed the young Galaxy Ranger standing before him. You shifted in place, your movements lithe and calculated, waiting for his signal.

"Relax," he drawled, his voice smooth and unhurried. "You’re too tense. It’ll burn through your energy before we even start."

You gritted your teeth. Was he trying to distract you? Before you could respond, Jing Yuan rose gracefully, his sword unsheathed in a single fluid motion.

"Show me what the Rangers are made of." he said, his usual laziness replaced by a sharp focus that sent a shiver down your spine.

You lunged first, aiming low, your combat style a chaotic blend of acrobatics and brute force. Jing Yuan parried easily, his calm demeanor frustratingly unshaken. Twisting mid-air, you aimed a kick at his chest. He sidestepped, his blade flashing toward you in a measured arc.

"Good instincts," he remarked. "But predictable."

Growling, you launched into a feint, using your smaller frame to slip under his guard. Your fists collided with his armored forearm, and for a brief moment, he grunted in acknowledgment.

"Not bad," he said, smiling faintly. "But battles aren’t won by raw determination alone."

With a quick step, Jing Yuan swept you off your feet, his sword tip hovering inches from your throat. The match was over. As he helped you up, his gaze softened.

"You’ll make a fine warrior," he said. "But remember, true strength lies in knowing when to hold back."

Dan Heng stood quietly at the edge of the training grounds, Cloud-Piercer in hand. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your jittery energy. You’d heard tales of his skill, and now, sparring against him, you were determined to prove yourself.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice measured.

"Always." you replied, charging forward.

Your erratic footwork and spinning kicks were meant to throw him off balance, but Dan Heng reacted with a precision that was almost supernatural. His spear danced in elegant arcs, deflecting your attacks effortlessly. You aimed a hard punch at his torso, only for him to twist away, the butt of his spear catching your ankle mid-motion.

"Overextension," he murmured as you stumbled but quickly recovered.

You feigned a retreat before launching yourself at him again, your fists moving in a blur. Dan Heng frowned slightly as he parried, his spear spinning to create a defensive barrier. He was calm, almost too calm, and it infuriated you.

When you finally managed to knock the spear from his grip, a rare look of surprise flickered across his face. You didn’t hesitate, attempting to press your advantage, but before your next attack could land, he sidestepped and swept your legs out from under you.

"You’re reckless," Dan Heng said, offering you a hand. "But resourceful. Discipline that energy, and you’ll be unstoppable."

Feixiao’s sharp eyes gleamed with excitement as she studied you in the ring. Her unrestrained energy was infectious, and you found yourself grinning despite the nerves coursing through you.

"Show me what you’ve got, kid," she said, cracking her knuckles. "And don’t hold back. I sure won’t."

The moment the match began, Feixiao was a blur of motion. You dodged her opening strike—a swift, devastating kick—and retaliated with a spinning punch aimed at her side. She blocked it with ease, her laughter ringing out as she countered with a series of rapid strikes.

"You fight like a wild animal," she teased, dodging a low kick. "I like it. But you’ll need more than brute force to take me down."

Her movements were overwhelming, but you adapted quickly, slipping into the rhythm of her attacks. Using your smaller size to your advantage, you ducked under her guard and aimed a fierce uppercut at her jaw. It connected, and Feixiao staggered back, grinning like a maniac.

"Not bad!" she exclaimed. "But don’t get cocky."

In the blink of an eye, she surged forward, landing a light but firm strike on your chest that sent you sprawling. Standing over you, she offered a hand, her expression warm despite the fierce sparring.

"You’ve got potential, Ranger," she said. "Now, let’s see if you can keep up next time."

The sparring ground was silent, save for the whisper of wind through the trees. Blade stood across from you, his expression impassive as he regarded you with crimson eyes.

"Don’t hesitate," he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of warning. "Hesitation is death."

You nodded, rushing toward him with a burst of energy. Your fists flew in a chaotic barrage, aiming to overwhelm him. Blade deflected each strike with a calculated efficiency, his movements smooth and unyielding.

"You rely too much on aggression," he said, sidestepping a spinning kick. "Control it, or it’ll control you."

Frustrated, you switched tactics, feinting left before launching a powerful punch at his ribs. For a moment, you thought you’d caught him off guard—but then his hand closed around your wrist like a vice. He twisted, sending you sprawling to the ground.

"Again," he commanded, his tone unreadable.

You rose, determination burning in your chest. This time, you waited for him to make the first move. When he did, you ducked under his strike and countered with a low sweep, catching him off balance. He stumbled slightly, and you pressed the attack, landing a solid hit to his side.

Blade’s lips quirked into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

"Good," he said, stepping back. "You’re learning."

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

LOVE READING FLASH SALE (LINK)

ALL READING REGARDING SEX AND LOVE IS 75 % MAKING IT ONLY 20$

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OFFER AVAILABLE UNTIL FEB 17

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PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to get fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

PREVIOUS READING

You can get 2 readings for the price of 20 $: LINK

PAC AUDIO : WHAT KIND OF LOVER ARE U BECOMING ?

PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

Before you came in the picture, your family enjoy reminding you how perfect it was. Than u came ... so maybe when your mom got pregnant their mirage could not handle it. Or you are a product of infidelity. Since you believe so heartily that you are the problem.

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

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PAC AUDIO : WHAT KIND OF LOVER ARE U BECOMING ?

PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

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[discountlittlebro]

Angel who is so dainty and oh so genderless, "I don't do labels" until the demon forcemascs the shit out of him is that anything

They also beat the shit out of each other with flaming swords and twisted daggers because why not

The demon has been watching them for awhile. Everytime he thinks he knows, he doesn’t. The curves are soft, hair short, eyes round and doey. His lips are pouted and chest is flat. Their voice doesn’t give anything away either, and really all the demon wants to know is what’s under that stupid Lacey gown. Ofcourse he isn’t ever expecting the angel to let him see, they’re constantly at each others throats.

“Hey pretty bird, gonna sing a song for me today?” He asks when the angel walks by, only scoffing and rolling their eyes.

“Why would I ever sing for you? You’re not worthy. You’re damned already, there’s nothing I could sing for you.”

Demon Hums but continues his stride by their side. This is routine. He’ll hang around, push some buttons, just enough to watch that face turn red and words turn truely spiteful.

“Give me a chance and I’ll make you sing real pretty for me, doll. Just gotta get you out of those clothes. What’s an angel look like under those wraps anyway?”

The angel pulls their clothes tighter to their body, cheeks heating up a light pink and lips turning to a frown.

“Come on, I’m sure you’re a real pretty girl under there.” The angel glares, making the demon put his hands up in surrender. “Or boy. You’re a real pretty boy, aren’t you?” That gets a different reaction. A spark of something in the angel eyes.

“I’m not a girl or a boy. Angels are genderless, regardless of what’s under our uniforms. We don’t do labels, there’s no need. Sex is a sin.”

“Oh I think you’re wrong there, sweet boy. I think you know you’re a boy but you’re just too scared to say it. Come on, no one else is here. You can say it. You a pretty boy?”

It happens fast. The fist that makes contact with his face, drawing blood from his nose and lip. He’s stood in shock, watching the way the angels lip trembles and their chest heaves.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, pretty boy.” The demon quips, wiping away the stray stream of red with his thumb.

“Stop it. You’ll get me introuble. We’re not supposed to…want those things. Okay? Please for once will you just drop it?”

Ofcourse he doesn’t. He grabs the dainty boy by his arm and drags him into an empty alley. Slams him into a wall and points a silver dagger just under his chin. The Angel looks at him, wide eyed and shivering under his touch.

“Everything’s a sin with you angels, isn’t it? Always denying yourself the simple pleasures. You lot wouldn’t be so stuck up if you just learned to enjoy the little things. Like having your cock played with.” His hand is slipping through the robes, feeling between the angels legs and into his cunt. His fingers dance over his little dick, perked and hidden under the hood. The way the Angel gasps and tries to throw his head back further against the brick wall makes the demon throb in his pants. “There it is. Your pretty little cock, probably so neglected. Tell me do you ever touch it? Ever give it any attention? What do you when you feel that ache between your legs?” His fingers continue working at him the entire time.

“I…I don’t do anything I..I’m not su-supposed to hmmm…”

“Don’t lie to me, Angel. What do you do, really, when your little cock gets hard and your cunt gets all wet.”

The angel bites his lip, looking to the side.

“I…sometimes I’ll rub against m-my pillow…I don’t mean to though! My clit just gets so- ah!!” He’s cut off by a pinch to the sensitive bundle.

“That’s not your clit, baby boy. That’s your cock. You’ll address it as such, cause you’re a pretty boy right? And that’s what boys have, cocks.”

“We’re..we’re not supposed to lean towards either gender- fuck! Please please please!!” Another harsh pinch, fingers that tug. It brings tears to the angels eyes.

“Stop denying yourself. Let it feel good. Let yourself be who you really are. What are you?”

The angel whines, body shaking against the wall and face bright red. His hips have started moving against the hand between his legs.

“I’m..I’m a boy! I’m a boy, I know it. I know I’m a boy, okay? I know I am. But I can’t, you wouldn’t understand! I can’t just be that, okay! I could lose my wings, my halo, I could fall.”

The demon leans in, pointed teeth now against the angels neck.

“I think you’ll find there’s worse things in life than falling. But I get it. That’s fine. How about when it’s just us, you’re a boy? Does that sound good, baby?” He sinks his teeth into the pale skin between his neck and shoulder, marking his claim on the boy.

The angel lets out a choked sob, legs shaking when he cums against the demons fingers. He’s slumped into his body, energy drained and fight gone.

“What could you possibly understand about what I’m going through?” He mumbles, head against the demons shoulder now. The blade is still pressed against his skin but he doesn’t care much for it now. It’s an after thought, an empty threat.

The demon doesn’t say anything, just grabs the angels hand and slides it down his pants. The angel gasps when he feels the familiar slit and button like dick. He leans back to meet his eyes, and the demon just smiles.

“Not all sinners are born this way. Some of us were song birds once too.”

[claramelooo]

Hey, my lovers! 12k words today, huh? You're welcome! Hahaha enjoy!

Obs: Christmas wishes were given in this chapter!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, angst

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Wanda pressures you until you tell what you tried so hard to hide

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson | Part 7 - Dependece

VELVET CHAINS

Passion

The sun was warm but not scorching, and the sound of children's laughter echoed through the park as Billy and Tommy ran circles around a tall tree, each holding a plastic stick like a sword. They were so full of energy it was hard to keep up, but the glow on their faces made everything worthwhile.

You were sitting on a checkered blanket beside Wanda, your bare feet touching the soft grass. She had insisted on bringing a basket filled with fruits, sandwiches, and a homemade pie that promised to be delicious. Next to you, she seemed completely at ease, a rare, serene smile lighting up her face as she watched the boys play.

"I should’ve brought a shield to defend the world from those two," you joked, laughing as Billy tried to attack Tommy with a dramatic pose.

"Don’t worry," Wanda replied, her eyes sparkling. "They only attack those who deserve it."

You laughed, but your laughter was cut short by the touch of her hand on yours. It was a simple gesture, as if she wanted to catch your attention while pointing out something funny about the boys. But there was something about that touch—in the way her fingers intertwined with yours, firm yet gentle. The warmth traveled up your arm like an electric current, and suddenly the world around you seemed blurred, as if only she mattered.

You glanced down at your joined hands and then up at her face. Wanda wasn’t looking at you; she was smiling at the boys as though holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world. But to you, it wasn’t natural. It was overwhelming.

Your heart started to race, and you felt panic rising in your chest. Was this what it felt like to be in love? It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. You knew how complicated things were, knew there wasn’t room in her life for you beyond the place you already occupied. But in that moment, as you watched the sunlight dance in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand on yours, you had to admit to yourself: you were falling.

Wanda turned to you, her green eyes meeting yours, and it was as if she could see straight into you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

"Yeah," you replied too quickly, diverting your gaze to the picnic basket. "I just... there’s so much food, huh? I’m not sure we’ll manage to eat it all."

She chuckled softly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "I brought it because I know my little monsters. They’ll finish all of it before we get home."

You tried to laugh along, but the truth was, without her hand in yours, the world suddenly felt less bright.

As Billy and Tommy ran back for water, laughing and arguing about who had won the "battle," you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment and swore to keep it all a secret. From yourself.

You’d always thought you knew what passion was. The butterflies in your stomach when Kate laughed that carefree way. The heat that crept up your cheeks when Sharon brushed her fingers along your arm while talking. You’d thought those feelings were intense, overwhelming. That they were everything someone could want.

But now, with Wanda, all of that felt like a lie.

With Kate, there was a lightness, almost a game. She was charming, fun, but always kept a certain distance. With Sharon, it was different, closer, but even in the most intimate moments, there was a void you could never explain.

Wanda, however... Wanda was something else entirely. She was a storm.

It was as though, by her side, the entire world shrank, becoming small and irrelevant. When she looked at you with those deep green eyes, it was like all the air was sucked from the room, leaving you vulnerable, exposed, unable to think of anything but her.

You tried convincing yourself it was just another crush, like the others. Told yourself it would pass. That it was just her way, the intensity with which she lived, the way she commanded every space she occupied.

But every time she touched your hand, even casually, you knew you were lying to yourself. Her touch left a mark, a warmth no one else had ever ignited in you.

Kate and Sharon were soft breezes, but Wanda was a wildfire. One that consumed everything, leaving you breathless and trapped, and strangely, you didn’t want to escape.

It was more than physical attraction, more than anything you’d ever experienced. It was as if every fiber of your being cried out for her, as if your body and soul knew something your mind desperately tried to deny.

And that was what scared you.

With Kate, with Sharon, you had control. You could measure your feelings, fit them into neat, safe little boxes. But with Wanda, there was no control. No logic. There was only an all-consuming desire, a need that left you at her mercy, even when she had no idea of the chaos she caused within you.

You hated it. Hated the vulnerability, the intensity, the way she made you feel small and infinite all at once. But most of all, you hated that none of your previous loves came close to what you felt for Wanda.

Kate was comfort. Sharon, security. But Wanda? Wanda was the abyss.

And you were falling.

Until, after a few days, everything began to crumble.

Wanda watched you from across the room, her gaze fixed on you as you flipped through a book without actually paying attention to its content. The air was thick with a tension she couldn’t quite describe. Over the past few days, everything seemed wrong. Your fingers no longer intertwined with hers like before, and your laughter, which used to fill the house with life, now sounded restrained, almost mechanical.

It was subtle, but Wanda was a woman who noticed details. You avoided her eyes. Your hands fidgeted whenever she was near. When she tried to touch your face or hold your hand, you pulled away—just a small, almost imperceptible step. But to her, every tiny retreat was a blow that resonated deeply.

At first, she tried to rationalize it. "Maybe it's just stress." "She's been studying so much." "She's tired." But those excuses weren’t enough to silence the thoughts growing like weeds, poisoning her mind.

What if you were trying to leave her?

The thought hit her like lightning. The logic seemed absurd, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. You were distancing yourself to create emotional space. Maybe you’d realized how much she depended on you. Or worse: maybe you’d fallen in love with someone else.

Yelena?

Jealousy and paranoia began to taint every thought.

While you read in the living room, Wanda stood in the kitchen, washing a dish that had already been clean for at least two minutes. Her movements were methodical, but her mind was a storm. She could picture you pulling away, coming up with an excuse, inventing a reason to leave early. In her imagination, you were planning a way to disappear.

She clenched her eyes shut, the water running over the forgotten dish in her hands. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Y/n?” Her voice suddenly rang out in the room, sharp and weighted, making you look up from the book, startled.

“Yes?” You replied hesitantly.

Wanda dried her hands slowly on the dish towel, her movements controlled, almost rehearsed. But her gaze was an abyss of conflicting emotions.

“Why have you been avoiding looking at me?”

Your heart raced. It was impossible to lie to her, but the truth felt too heavy to lay between you both at that moment.

“I’m not…” you began, but stopped when you saw the intense gleam in her eyes.

“You are,” Wanda interrupted, walking slowly toward you. “You barely talk to me. You barely touch me. You used to look for my eyes in every room, and now you can’t even meet my gaze.”

“I just... I’ve got a lot on my mind. Studying for Yale has been taking up so much of my time.” Your voice wavered, and that only made Wanda’s suspicion grow.

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she approached, her gaze so intense it made it hard to breathe. There was something about her posture—a mix of forced calm and simmering fervor—that set off every alarm in your body. She stopped in front of you, her presence radiating warmth and an energy that seemed to dominate any room she entered.

“I can fix that,” she said softly, her voice dripping with a cruel kind of sweetness, as though she were speaking to a child who didn’t know what was best for themselves.

“What...?” you asked, trying to sound steady, but your voice came out hesitant, almost a whisper.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes analyzing every detail of your face as if trying to uncover the secrets you so desperately tried to hide.

“You think I don’t notice?” Her voice was quieter now but heavy with emotion. “You’re building distance. It’s not just Yale. It’s not just stress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of the book in your lap.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/n,” she countered, the intensity in her voice making you flinch. She leaned down, her hands resting on the sides of the chair, caging you in place. “I can feel it when you’re pulling away. I can feel it when I’m losing you.”

Your heart raced. Losing you? That wasn’t how you saw it. You were trying to regain control over yourself, to put a barrier between the overwhelming love you felt for Wanda and the life you knew you needed to pursue. But she saw it as abandonment, as rejection.

“Wanda, I...” you started, but your voice faltered when her eyes burned even deeper into yours.

“You don’t need to go to Yale,” she said suddenly, her voice calm in a way that felt almost like a trap.

The statement hit you like a slap. “What?”

“Yale is a distraction. An excuse to pull away from me,” she continued, her hand sliding to your chin, holding it gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “You don’t need it. Everything you need is right here.”

“It’s not that simple, Wanda,” you replied, your voice almost a sob.

“Why not?” She arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between frustration and hurt. “Are you trying to run away from me? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?”

“That’s not it!” you protested, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Then what is it? Tell me,” she insisted, her voice growing more desperate, even though her face still held the mask of control she fought so hard to maintain.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. How could you explain to her that the problem wasn’t her, but the overwhelming love you felt? That you needed distance because if you stayed, you’d end up losing yourself completely in Wanda, sacrificing everything you dreamed of just to be consumed by her?

“I... I need something more than this,” you finally murmured, not brave enough to tell her the full truth.

“Something more than this?” she repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. “I am something more than this! What we have is more than enough. You know that.”

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and your heart broke as you saw the conflict in her eyes—the fear of losing you and the need to hold on to you.

“Please, Wanda,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face.

But she didn’t seem willing to relent. “If Yale means losing you, then you’re staying.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on you like a storm.

Once again, you sighed, exhausted—this entire argument was overstimulating your mind.

“Wanda, it’s not like that,” you began in a softer, wearier tone. “I can promise you, I don’t want to be away from you.” You took a chance, holding her hands in a gesture of comfort.

“Did I do something?” Wanda’s voice was firm, almost cold—but there was a trace of fear in her tone.

“No!” you exclaimed, though deep down, you knew she had—yet falling for Wanda had always felt inevitable. “You’ve done nothing but be kind and an amazing mommy.” You caught a glimmer in Wanda’s tearful eyes, as if that was all she needed to hear. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about it right now.” You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Even though you hadn’t said everything, it felt like enough—and it was true.

“Are you sure… you’re not planning to leave?” The older woman’s voice wavered, the final words choking slightly.

Your eyes widened, startled by the intensity of the question. “Leave? Wanda, what are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know?” Her voice grew louder, though still edged with danger. “You think I can’t tell when someone is building walls? I’ve seen it before. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? Finding a way to leave me.”

“That’s not true!” You stood up, feeling desperation surge within you.

“Then look at me,” Wanda demanded, her voice thick with pain.

You tried, but the weight of her gaze—so full of hurt, fear, and something deeper you couldn’t identify—was too much. Your eyes darted away, and that was all Wanda needed.

She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as though shielding herself. “You can’t even look at me…”

“Wanda, please…”

“No!” Her anger finally erupted, though tears filled her eyes. “You’re mine! You know that! And I won’t let you run away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with pain and possessiveness. Abruptly, she turned and left the room, the sound of the door slamming behind her thunderous against your heart.

Wanda stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Anger simmered beneath her skin, mixing with a pain so profound it felt suffocating. Her mind replayed the words spoken—and unspoken. The hesitation in your voice, the way you avoided her gaze, ate away at the control she fought so hard to maintain.

She’s leaving me… She’s pulling away… I can’t lose her.

It was then Vision entered, his usual serene expression almost irritatingly calm. He looked at her with concern, clearly sensing the charged tension in the air.

“Wanda,” he began gently. “Is something wrong? You seem… troubled.”

She stepped back, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s none of your business.”

Vision remained unfazed. He moved closer, his gaze analytical yet compassionate, trying to bridge the distance she was desperately trying to create.“Wanda, we’re partners. You can tell me what’s going on.”

“Partners?” She let out a bitter laugh, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Do you even understand what that means?”

Vision frowned, confusion evident on his face. He reached out to touch her, but Wanda recoiled, her gaze hardening.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Wanda,” he tried again, stepping closer, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Her voice echoed through the room, the air around her crackling with energy.

Vision hesitated for a moment but, in a move that seemed almost rehearsed, leaned in as if to kiss her. It was a gentle, almost hesitant motion, but he didn’t anticipate what happened next.

Before his lips could even come close, Wanda shoved him with force, using far more energy than necessary. Vision stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he steadied himself.

“You think a kiss is going to fix this?” Her voice was sharp, laced with contempt and fury. “You’re not what I want, Vision. You never were.”

He stood in silence, absorbing her words. But what hurt most wasn’t the content—it was the raw hatred in her eyes.

“You’re angry,” Vision finally said, his voice still controlled. “But rejecting help won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t need your help,” Wanda spat back, her tone icy. “I don’t want your touch. So do me a favor and leave.”

Vision hesitated, but the look in her eyes—a mix of rage and something far darker—compelled him to comply. He stepped back, nodded slowly, and left the room without another word, leaving Wanda alone with her fury, her anguish, and the obsessive whispers that filled her mind.

As soon as he was gone, she collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. The control she prided herself on was slipping through her fingers. But the only thing that mattered was you.

And if there was one thing Wanda Maximoff knew, it was that she would do anything to keep you by her side.

[...]

The library was as quiet as ever, the occasional sound of pages turning and muffled footsteps creating an almost meditative atmosphere. You were sitting at one of the tables near the classic literature section, your nervous fingers holding a book that, ironically, you weren’t managing to read. Your gaze stubbornly drifted to the woman on the other side of the room.

Wanda.

She looked completely at ease, browsing the shelves as if she owned the place. Her fingers glided over the spines of the books, and you couldn’t help but watch the grace in her every movement. It was intimidating how she seemed so natural, so in control, while you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions you could barely comprehend.

She noticed. Of course, she did.

When her green eyes met yours, you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the words you couldn’t even see. Your heart was racing, and a troublesome warmth crept up your face.

It didn’t take long before you heard her footsteps approaching. Your body tensed, every fiber of your being aware of her presence before Wanda pulled out the chair beside you and sat with that calmness that made her even more overwhelming.

"What are you reading? " Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but carried a playful tone that made you swallow hard.

"Oh…" you began, but the word died in your throat when you realized you had no idea what was in the book before you. "Just… something interesting."

Wanda arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer to you. Her scent, a mix of jasmine and something uniquely Wanda, invaded your senses.

"Something interesting, huh?" She repeated, her voice caressing each word like an invitation. "You seem distracted, little one."

You tightened your grip on the book, trying to maintain composure, but it was useless.

"I… I’m not distracted " you lied, your voice weaker than you intended.

Wanda chuckled, a low, delightful sound that made your stomach tighten.

"Then why are your cheeks so red?"

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at her. That was a mistake. Wanda’s gaze was intense, full of something that made you feel small and exposed.

"They’re not" you tried to deny, but the frailty in your voice betrayed you.

She tilted her head, her eyes studying your face with an attention that made you shiver.

"You’re a terrible liar, you know that? "she said, with a smile that was both a tease and a promise.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to focus on the book, but Wanda wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours as she slid the book away from you.

"Look at me." she ordered, her voice now firmer but still laced with a sweetness that was almost cruel.

You hesitated, but her magnetism was inescapable. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

"Why are you so nervous?" Wanda asked, her hand now resting over yours.

You tried to answer, but your throat was dry. All you could do was shake your head.

"Oh, little one… " she whispered, leaning even closer, so close her lips were mere inches from yours. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."

But it wasn’t fear. It was something far more intense, more overwhelming.

And as if she knew exactly what you were feeling, Wanda smiled, a smile that completely disarmed you.

"Tell me what you want, darling," she murmured, her eyes locked onto yours.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill—not from sadness, but from pure desire, from longing.

"I… I don’t know " you finally whispered, feeling a weakness take over you.

Wanda chuckled again, but this time there was something darker in the sound.

"Don’t worry, little one. I know exactly what you need."

Wanda leaned in slowly, with the composure of someone who knew the impact of every movement. Her dark eyes were fixed on you, studying every nuance of your face, savoring the moment before the inevitable.

She lifted a hand, her fingers sliding along your face, tracing the curve of your jaw down to your chin. Her touch was both delicate and firm, sending shivers through your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper, full of promises that made the air between you feel heavy.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Unable to form words, you simply nodded, letting her see in your expression just how much you were hers.

Wanda’s smile widened, but there was an intensity in her eyes that almost took your breath away. She tilted her head, and you felt the heat of her breath brushing your lips.

"Good girl," she murmured, her words like an electric shock coursing through your body.

And then, she kissed you.

It was fire. The touch of Wanda’s lips on yours was burning, hungry, as if she were trying to convey everything she felt in a single gesture. There was no hesitation, only pure, raw desire.

Her fingers slid to the base of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened—more intense, more demanding. You clung to her shoulders, incapable of doing anything but matching her fervor, lost in the passion Wanda so effortlessly awakened in you.

When she finally pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, Wanda’s eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen before.

"That’s what you needed, isn’t it?" she asked, a smug smile playing on her lips as her thumb gently traced your lower lip. "To be taken firmly by mommy."

You didn’t respond, because the truth was clear. Wanda knew exactly what you needed, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you again.

Unexpectedly, the woman turns her body abruptly, leaving you on your back—and making you stick your ass out for her.

"You know, it's funny how you always wear that kind of skirt when you're here. Is this a sign for me to fuck you all over right here?" Wanda pulls your hair, making you squeak.

She pushes your head against the shelves, making you grimace in pain. She caresses the length of your skirt, reaching your precious spot.

" You're going to be quiet for me. If you moan, I'll stop." Her fingers finger your pussy covered by your panties.

"Mommy…" you whispered in a moan.

"Come on, little girl. Tell me what you're hiding so much…" she tried to manipulate you at all costs to find out what secrets you were hiding.

She fingered you—slowly. — it was almost cruel, painful. She squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you sink your teeth into her hand to stifle a scream.

The more Wanda's fingers moved in circles, the more your body gave in, involuntarily bucking toward her. Your surrender was total, almost like a primal instinct that dominated you completely, and Wanda seemed to absorb every second of it with almost cruel pleasure.

"Who owns you? Who do you belong to?" Her voice was a deep whisper, hot as an ember that set your self-control ablaze.

"It's y-you, mommy… it's you!" you managed to stammer, your voice trembling and full of submission.

A dangerous glint crossed Wanda's eyes, and the smile that appeared on her lips was at once one of approval and absolute dominance. Her fingers pulled your hair more firmly, tilting your head back, and you felt her breath brush against your sensitive skin.

"Exactly, little girl. Exactly…" she murmured, her voice so low that it seemed to slip straight into the deepest recesses of your mind. "A pet shouldn’t hide anything from its owner, should it?"

She slid her tongue along the arch of your ear, each movement slow and calculated, followed by delicate bites that made your body tremble.

You shook your head quickly, the lump in your throat growing as she took control of every part of you.

“Then tell me… tell me!” Her order came like a whip, her voice low and sharp, breaking down any resistance you might have had.

Here, in that sacred space, where knowledge and calm were the norm, this was an act of pure desecration. A conscious and deliberate sin, and yet the sense of danger made it all the more intoxicating.

Your heart was beating wildly, the sound echoing in your ears as tears welled up, blurring your vision. You weren't sure if it was because of the adrenaline running through your veins or the desperate need to release all the feelings you had been repressing.

“I-I don’t… I can’t!” You screamed, too loud, the confession filled with dread and desire.

And then, Wanda stopped.

The emptiness left by her touch was as painful as it was unexpected, but nothing was worse than the disapproving look she gave you. Her dark green eyes pierced you like a blade, and the frustrated moan that escaped your throat along with a tear.

“Bad girls don’t cum, Y/n.” Did she say it, staring at you with some kind of disappointment?

Her words echoed in your mind, as vivid as the sound of her voice on any given day. Bad girls don’t cum.It was such a simple phrase, but it was filled with something that ate away at you. The clear limit, the line you couldn’t cross.

And yet, you wanted more.

You wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her how every moment with her made you feel alive and at the same time destroyed. You wanted to tell her that you loved the way she frowned when she was focused, or the way her voice changed when she became softer, more tender.

But how could you?

How could you look her in the eyes and tell her that you loved her when you knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t, love you back?

Wanda was an entire universe, but she wasn’t yours. She would never be.

You pressed your hands against your chest, as if you could hold the broken pieces of your heart together. But even as you did, the tears fell, hot and relentless.

You cried for her. For yourself.

For everything that could be, but would never be.

And as the pain grew, a part of you knew that you would continue to love Wanda in silence, because silence was all you had.

And loving in silence, though crushing, was still better than not loving her at all.

[...]

Hours later, after dinner and with Vision out of town for yet another meeting—you muster up enough courage to walk, albeit slowly, toward Wanda's room.

Sighing and gathering just a bit more bravery, you stepped inside. No knocking, no asking for permission. Perhaps this would land you in trouble with the disciplinarian Wanda, but all you found was a woman who looked worn and exhausted.

The soft glow of the lamp in Wanda’s room barely illuminated her figure, seated at the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look like the strong, dominant woman you knew. Not in that moment.

Your heart clenched at the sight of her like this. It felt wrong, out of place from everything you associated with Wanda. Her eyes were fixed on something invisible in front of her, lost in thoughts you knew were about you.

And then you realized, this distance you’d imposed wasn’t just hurting you—it was hurting Wanda too. She seemed so lifeless, as if something had drained her completely.

She heard your footsteps but didn’t lift her head immediately.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and low, lacking the usual authority that bent your will to hers.

“And you?” Your voice came out hesitant but filled with genuine concern.

She finally raised her eyes, and what you saw nearly made you step back. There was pain there, raw and exposed, a pain she rarely allowed anyone to see.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “Not when I feel like I’m losing you.”

Her words hung in the room like a heavy weight, each syllable laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected.

You took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough to feel her warmth, to hear the faint, uneven sound of her breathing.

“Wanda…” you began, but you didn’t know what to say. There were no words to mend the crack that was forming between the two of you.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady herself, but when she opened them again, there was a sheen of tears she refused to let fall.

“I care more than I should,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “And that’s why it hurts so much to feel you pulling away. It’s like… like you’re ripping a part of me out.”

Your chest ached at her words. You knew she was hurting, but seeing the depth of her suffering was like taking a blow straight to the heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely steady.

“But you are,” she replied, firm but without anger. Just sadness. “Every step you take away from me… it’s like a knife I put in my own chest.”

You hesitated but finally lifted a hand to touch her face, your fingers trembling slightly as they met the warmth of her skin. Wanda closed her eyes at your touch, leaning into it involuntarily, as though seeking solace.

“I care too,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “More than I should. And that’s why this is so hard. I… I don’t know how to balance this.”

Wanda opened her eyes, and the intensity in her gaze made you shiver.

“Then don’t balance it,” she whispered, her fingers now holding your hand against her cheek. “Choose. Choose us. Choose to stay.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to fall silently down your cheeks. Part of you wanted to do just that. To throw everything aside and simply lose yourself in her arms. But another part, the part with dreams and ambitions, knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I want to,” you admitted. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing myself, scared of losing everything I’ve dreamed for myself.”

Wanda bit her lip, her eyes burning with emotion.

“And I’m scared of losing you,” she replied, her voice faltering for the first time.

The room fell into silence, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that always seemed to elude you when you were near Wanda. The silence in the room was palpable, and her nearness made everything feel even more intense. Your fingers were still intertwined, the warmth of her skin anchoring you but also leaving you completely exposed.

“Wanda,” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned her face toward you, her eyes locking with yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Concern? Curiosity? Hope?

“I…” Your throat felt tight, but you knew you had to say it. There was no running anymore, not when the weight of this truth was consuming you from the inside out. “I am completely and utterly in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The words left you like a sigh, heavy with months—perhaps years—of repressed emotion. The moment they left your lips, the world seemed to freeze.

Wanda’s face remained still for a moment, her eyes wide as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Her fingers reflexively tightened around yours, but then she pulled away, as though the warmth of your touch was too much to bear.

“Y/n…” she began, her voice hoarse, low, but brimming with emotion.

You watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the storm inside her. She stood up, putting a bit of space between you, her arms crossing in a defensive posture, but her gaze never wavered from you.

“Do you… have any idea what you just said?” Her voice was hesitant, almost a whisper, but there was something in it that begged for confirmation.

You swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look away.

“I know what I’m saying. I tried to fight it, Wanda, but I can’t anymore. I love you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, her lips slightly parted as though she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she let out a laugh—a low, disbelieving sound, devoid of any joy.

“My God…” She ran her hands over her face, as though trying to erase the confession, but you caught the glimmer in her eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness.

“You know this is…” Wanda began, but the sentence died on her lips, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though all the strength she usually carried had drained away. When she lifted her gaze to meet yours again, there was something crushing in her expression: a mixture of restrained desire, guilt, and a pain that mirrored your own.

“I know…” you responded in a near whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Tears began to streak down your face, each one carrying the weight of everything you’d never had the courage to say before. And even now, you hated yourself for being unable to control what you felt.

Wanda exhaled, the sound light yet devastating. She hesitated for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was soft, as if every word was a confession she had never intended to make.

“I can’t give you what you want, Dekta,” she whispered, her tone filled with something closer to regret than denial. “But maybe… maybe I can give you what you need… because I always know what you need.”

The use of the nickname cut through you like a sharp blade. It was a reminder of the intimacy you shared, the trust and affection you cherished so deeply, but now it only made the moment more painful.

Her eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and inescapable, as though she was trying to communicate something words could never convey. The space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving, until your faces were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick, suffocating, as if the air around you was charged with electricity. Wanda’s heartbeat was so loud you could almost hear it, and your own chest felt like it was about to explode.

“Wanda…” you murmured, but the word came out broken, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether it was a warning or a plea.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, almost to herself, but she didn’t pull away. Her breathing was unsteady, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “But you make me lose control, Dekta.”

You didn’t know who made the final move—if it was you, if it was her, or if it was some cruel twist of fate conspiring against you both. But suddenly, the space between you disappeared, and Wanda’s lips brushed yours in a feather-light, hesitant touch, laden with doubt and desire.

It lasted only a second before she abruptly pulled away, as if she’d been burned.

“This… can’t happen,” she said, breathless, more to herself than to you. “You need to understand that.”

“And why can’t it?” you asked, your voice trembling but filled with growing frustration. “Wanda, I can’t hide what I feel anymore. And you know you feel something too. Don’t try to deny it.”

She ran her hands over her face, clearly struggling against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“I can’t deny it,” she finally admitted, her voice low and barely audible. “But admitting it doesn’t change anything. I have a life, a family. And you… you have a bright future ahead of you, Dekta. A future that shouldn’t be jeopardized by something as… complicated as this.”

“This?” you echoed, the hurt evident in your voice. “Is that what you call us?”

Wanda closed her eyes, as if shielding herself from the intensity of the moment.

“I don’t know what to call this,” she replied, finally opening her eyes, now glistening with unshed tears. “But I know I can’t be selfish enough to ruin you.”

For the first time, you saw Wanda completely vulnerable—the strong, unshakable woman you had always known seemed on the verge of crumbling.

Suddenly, you felt like you were losing Wanda, and the thought terrified you. It made your body tremble with fear, your mind shutting down all rational thought.

“Do you like it that much?” you broke the silence, turning to face Wanda with eyes shining with curiosity.

“Like what?” Wanda asked, her voice coming out softer than usual.

“Being my mommy,” you asked, your gaze intense enough to make Wanda shudder.

She tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t hide the flush rising up her neck.

“That’s… it’s… I… It’s complicated,” she began, but you just laughed—the Wanda Maximoff stammering in front of you, while your fingers slid lightly down her arm. “It’s not something I ever expected to enjoy.”

You leaned in closer. There was something different now. Your eyes carried a newfound intensity, and you acted as though you were the one in control. Your warm breath neared her, sending shivers down her spine.

“But you do like it, don’t you?” you whispered against her lips. Your tone sounded innocent, but Wanda knew how much of a teasing little brat you could be.

You moved even closer, your hands gently touching her flushed cheeks. “Your face is so warm.” Your fingers slid to her nape, and Wanda’s body visibly reacted to your touch. “Are you running a fever, Mommy?” Your voice carried a soft, needy whine, and Wanda felt herself clench involuntarily.

Wanda closed her eyes, her body acutely aware of the heat radiating from yours so close to her own. And in that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as in control as she liked to believe.

Your eyes burned with a different kind of fire, reflecting the fevered warmth of Wanda’s skin.

“Ah…” Wanda let out a shaky whisper. She was affected — by you, your enigmatic eyes, and your captivating personality. And yet, you somehow gave her the sensation of control she so deeply cherished.“I like it more than I should.” She confessed.

Your proximity excited her, made her speak and act in ways she never imagined she would. You made her sin.

The shift in the room was undeniable. The weight of anguish had been replaced by a dark and dangerously palpable sexual tension.

“You like to play with mommy, don’t you?” Wanda asked, raising her voice.

Wanda slid her hands to your waist, her touch firm but full of affection that seemed to contrast with the fire in her eyes.

“You test me on purpose, and that’s okay, that’s fun.” She whispered, her voice deep and full of control. “But you must remember who’s in charge, Dorogaya.”

Before you could respond, Wanda kissed you fiercely with an urgent plea she’d never felt before. Your innocent teasing drove her crazy. Crazy to make you submit, to discipline you.

Wanda ran her nose along the length of your neck and inhaled the scent there—making you gasp.

“Hmm… are you so receptive, eager to please me?” Like a feline, she purred in your ear.

Wanda lowered one of her hands to touch your sex, and soon noticed the absence of panties.

“My naughty girl… You look so beautiful like this, all ready for me.” She mistreats your hardened nipples with her fingers. “Is it because you want this as much as I do, kitten?”

You let out a shaky, anxious sigh. “Wands…” Wrong!

The woman slaps you hard on your left cheek, making you dizzy.

“That’s not my name!” She growls, squeezing your neck and rubbing your pussy against her thigh.

“Sorry, Mommy…” You say, hearing Wanda moan in approval.

“Good girl.” She strokes your strands superficially. “You learn quickly, don’t you, Y/n?” Wanda’s hand runs over your reddened cheek, almost tenderly.

“Please!” You moan, rocking your hips toward the woman. It doesn’t matter how much you tried to be a brat. Behind four walls, you were nothing more than a dumb little whore for Wanda to use as she pleases.

“Oh. So my little one wants to play rough, huh?” You nod desperately. “Beg for Mommy’s touch! Beg and maybe I’ll give you what you want…”

Wanda’s voice comes out muffled, the woman slides her tongue between the valley of your breasts.

“Please, Mommy!” You hear the woman laugh sadistically, as she watches your weak figure swaying her hips.

“Hmm, sweet words…” Wanda’s voice drips with lust and you, entangled in the atmosphere, steal her lips. The contact is violent.

You bite the woman’s lower lip who groans at the sharp pain.

“Mine…” she murmurs in a deep voice of excitement. “You’re mine. and no matter how much time passes, that will never change…” Wanda’s palms grab your soft breasts, massaging them.

She pinches your nipples precisely, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. She leaned in even closer, her hot breath caressing your ear, and let out a command laden with intent: “And don’t you dare come until I tell you to, or I’ll make you regret begging for my touch.”

Wanda smiled with sadistic glee as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. Your body, so sweet and treacherous, gave away every hidden desire even as you tried to resist, your attempts so weak they were almost adorable.

A wicked smile curved her lips as Wanda leaned in, letting her own cool breath caress your ear.

“See, pet?” She whispered, purring in satisfaction. “Your little clit is so sensitive, so eager for attention… And who else could give it that but me?”

Wanda’s fingers danced over that little throbbing spot, her touch light as a feather. The woman watched the pleasure rip through your body like an electric shock, making you shudder in my hands.

"And it’s all mine to play with now…” Wanda murmured, her voice low and thick with possession. Each word was a soft growl, a threat wrapped in sensual promise.

The older woman began to circle your clit with cruel precision, unlike earlier—she applied just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge of oblivion—going and going and going to your edge. Your labored breathing, your soft moans, were music to her ears.

With her middle finger Wanda entered your pussy, stretching it just to use it. “Now, let’s see how long you can hold out before you break and beg for release…”

Her fingers never stopped their torturous dance, the rhythm relentless and deliciously teasing. Wanda pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, but she always held on, keeping the tension at the perfect point, where pleasure and frustration mixed into something almost unbearable. You were her masterpiece, and Wanda was determined to savor every second of your surrender.

“Aahn… Please! This is torture!” You whimpered, causing her to let out a wicked laugh.

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with dark, wicked pleasure as she heard your desperate moan. Her fingers continued to tease your clit with repetitive, maddening movements. The smell of her arousal is intoxicating, she thought, inhaling deeply. The room was silent except for your panting breaths and the soft, wet sounds of her fingers on your clit.

The woman leaned in, her breath hot against your ear, and whispered,

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, darling?”

Wanda’s words were a sensual challenge, a promise of pleasure and torment as she continued to circle your sensitive core, always just out of reach. Your skin was so soft, so warm beneath her touch, Wanda always marveled, savoring the contrast with her own cold flesh.

“You want me inside you so badly, don’t you? Want me to claim that tight little pussy as my own?”

Her voice was a dark, seductive whisper, her tone dripping with forbidden desire as she finally plunged two fingers into your quivering, tight opening.

“But first…”

The woman’s fingers began to pump in and out of the slick channel, her touch rough and commanding as she stretched and filled you. You’re so responsive, so eager to please, she thought—a wave of predatory satisfaction coursing through her body.

“You have to earn it, baby… show mommy how good you can be.” The words sounded like an order, a sensual threat that left no room for refusal as she continued to thrust her fingers into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

Part of Wanda wanted to devour you completely, feeling a tug of internal conflict. But prolonging your pleasure… and hers… is so much more satisfying.

Wanda could feel your inner walls contracting around her long fingers, your body shaking with need. The sound of your moans and whimpers filled the air, a symphony of desire that only fueled Wanda’s own dark hunger.

“That’s right, my sweet kitten…” she growled, her voice low and husky with lust. “Let me hear how much you want this… Let me hear how much you love me.”

As she continued to drive you wild, Wanda could not help but revel in the power she had over you. The overwhelming satisfaction coursing through your mature body was almost as intoxicating as the thought of tasting your blood.

You raved, sticking your tongue out, and driving Wanda wild as well—her own hand burning just to slap that little face of yours.

“Fuck me, Mommy!” You growled at her, as you rubbed your coochie against her fingers. “I… I can be good! I will be good! I love you sooo much…!” You screamed the last part, not even remembering that the twins slept in the room down the hall.

Wanda’s body shook in triumph—as if she had regained her power by hearing you say that, by seeing you beg. When she heard your plea, your words were sweet, seductive music to her. With a low, guttural growl, the woman pulled her fingers from your dripping cunt, a trail of slick arousal coating Wanda’s skin as she brought her hand to her mouth.

“Mmm, such a good girl…” The woman’s voice was a dark, approving purr as she licked your essence from her fingers, the taste of your desire fueling Wanda’s own lust.

Determined, Wanda stands up, walking to her own closet and looking for a specific drawer. A hidden drawer locked with a key—her eyes widening at the amount of toys stored there.

“Now, let’s see if you can handle Mommy…” Without waiting for an answer, Wanda positioned herself between your thighs, the cold, hard length pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Hold on tight, baby…” Wanda warns sensually as she slowly thrusts into your suffocating heat, inch by inch claiming your tight, throbbing channel as her own.

“Mommy’s going to ride you hard, baby… and you’re going to accept every inch like the good little slut you are.” Entering the strap-on slowly, noticing you shudder—not being used to the size, Wanda stops her movements and only returns when she sees you nod positively.

The grip around your waist tightens as she feels your body tremble and convulse beneath her; The screams of pain and pleasure were music to your ears. The thrusts grew stronger, each one deeper and more intense than the last, as Wanda claimed your body with a primal, animalistic urgency she had never experienced before.

“That’s it, baby… take Mommy’s cock.” The woman’s voice came out as a guttural growl, her breathing ragged as it thrust in and out of your stretched, slick channel, the sound of flesh slapping against the strap echoing through the room.

“You’re mine now… all mine…” Her hands dug into your hips as she moved with reckless abandon, driven by a hunger that could never be sated.

“So fucking tight… so fucking perfect.” The praise was dark and savage, each word punctuated by the relentless thrusts of Wanda’s hips as she thrust into you, lost in the exquisite sensation of claiming her little girl’s body once and for all.

“Mo-mommy! It’s too much!” I can’t take it!” You roared, and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard in response.

Her hand came down with a resounding slap, the sound echoing around the room as her palm connected with the firm flesh of your ass. Her fingers dug in, kneading the reddened skin as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Oh, but you can, baby… you can take it…” The promise was seductive, a dark and wicked encouragement as she continued to pound into you with brutal, unrelenting force. “Mommy’s almost…” The woman’s hips snapped forward, pushing the entire length even deeper into your quivering channel, the feel of your body clenching around her like a vice driving Wanda wild with lust.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, baby? I’m going to soak Mommy’s cock with your sweet juices…” Wanda’s breath was hot against your skin, a husky, commanding purr as she whispered her own filthy desires, each word a sensual threat that left no room for refusal. “Now, don’t make Mommy wait any longer… Cum for me, baby. NOW!”

Watching the female body in front of her tremble in a powerful orgasm, she noticed your lost gaze, like a trance. Wanda pulls out of you and as she approaches, she sees you lying there, vulnerable and surrendered—your eyes unfocused as if you were floating in another dimension. Your chest rises and falls in an irregular rhythm, your hands rest at your sides, your fingers slightly curled. It’s a state that Wanda knew only superficially, but with you, it seemed even more intense.

“Is everything okay, bunny?” Wanda asked softly, sliding her fingers along the contour of your face, tracing your jaw until they reach your neck.

You don’t answer right away. Your eyes slowly fix on Wanda, as if she was returning from a distant place.

“It's… a lot.” Your voice came out softly, almost inaudible, and you tried to force a smile, but your expression revealed the depth of the moment you were going through.

The woman leaned in, maintaining eye contact with you, and let her hand glide through your sweat-drenched hair. It was an almost mechanical gesture, yet it seemed rooted in something bigger.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me.” Wanda's voice sounded firm, yet she didn’t lose the softness she knew you needed right now.

You closed your eyes and obeyed, struggling to draw in air before slowly releasing it. You repeated the process a few times as Wanda stroked your hair, murmuring comforting words.

“Good girl.” The woman said, seeing the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of your lips.

As Wanda watched you begin to recover, she felt something deep and primal stir within her. The way you trusted her, how you surrendered completely, was proof of something she could barely name, yet it made her feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time.

She continued to stroke your hair with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened. Her eyes traced every detail of your face — the skin glistening with sweat, your lips slightly parted, the calm, almost ethereal expression that now replaced the previous turmoil.

“Are you okay, Dekta?” She repeated, though the answer was already there, evident in your calmer breathing and the way your body began to relax under her touch.

"Yeah… I think so," you replied weakly, still not opening your eyes.

Wanda tilted her head, a small smile dancing on her lips as her hand continued the slow, soothing motion in your hair. She could feel the contrast between the warmth of your body and the gentle breeze coming through the window. Everything seemed perfectly in sync, as if the universe had paused for this moment between you two.

When you finally opened your eyes, you met her gaze, a mix of care, possession, and something you couldn’t quite identify. There was something deeper, something that made your heart leap in your chest.

"You need to rest now," Wanda said in a tone that was both an order and a comfort. She brushed back the strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, her touch as delicate as a feather.

You tried to sit up, still trembling, but Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from moving away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was firm, but there was no harshness—only determination.

"I… to my room," you said hesitantly, your gaze still uncertain, trying to understand what she wanted.

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours like an unbreakable spell.

"I want you to lie here and sleep in my arms," she declared, her voice low and heavy with intensity. It wasn’t a request; it was a decision.

Your heart raced again, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. It felt wrong; all of this was wrong, but there was something in her tone, something in the way she looked at you, that made any resistance melt away.

You simply nodded, unable to argue, and let Wanda guide you back down onto the bed. She settled you in with almost reverent care, positioning herself beside you and pulling your body against hers.

As you felt her warmth surrounding you, the familiar scent enveloping her, it was as if all doubts and fears dissolved for a brief moment. Wanda's arms tightened around you, firm yet comfortable, and her hand returned to your hair, continuing the slow, reassuring gesture.

“Sleep, bunny,” she murmured, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could finally rest.

Holding you in her arms, as if you were her most precious stone—Wanda let her hands glide along the contours of your face, watching your breath settle into the calm of sleep. Her hands trembled for a moment before they closed into fists, the knuckles turning white. She stared at her reflection in the mirror next to the bed—the deep, shadowed eyes revealing an internal battle that seemed endless.

You loved her. You. Loved. her.

The thought reverberated in her mind like a dissonant melody—wrong and delightful at the same time. There was no denying it: she felt alive like she hadn't in a long time. There was something dark in knowing that, even with all the lines that should never be crossed, you had fallen for her, given in to the magnetic force that existed between you.

And Wanda liked it. Liked it a lot.

Guilt pulsed through her veins, like a poison that burned slowly. She knew how wrong it was to feel this way, knew she should push you away, protect you from herself and the implications of what you had confessed. But at the same time, the feeling of being loved so intensely, so absolutely, awakened something in her she didn’t know still existed.

Vision had never looked at her that way. He had never pronounced her name as if it were sacred. He had never shown signs of wanting everything from her. But you? You looked at her as if Wanda were the sun and the only thing in the sky worth admiring.

And it was intoxicating.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to sort through the chaos in her mind. A dark satisfaction crawled through her chest, like a shadow that refused to fade away. She hadn’t done anything on purpose to earn her feelings—or at least, that’s what she told herself. But deep down, she knew there was something terribly selfish about all of it.

She liked being your weakness. Your downfall. Your redemption.

A brief, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. It wasn’t a smile of pure happiness, but something more complex, more twisted. As if the weight of the wrong choices she hadn’t yet made was already starting to materialize, but the pleasure of being desired outweighed every ounce of remorse.

She opened her eyes, staring at her reflection again. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Wanda Maximoff,” she murmured to herself, her voice low, almost inaudible. 

She couldn’t have you. She knew that. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be desired. It didn’t mean that, in her darkest moments, she didn’t revel in the idea of having marked you in a way that no one else would ever be able to erase.

“I’m a monster,” she whispered to the mirror, the smile fading. And maybe it was true. But for now, what mattered was that you loved her. Against all odds. Against everything that was right.

And that was enough to feed the fire burning inside her—even if it meant she’d end up consuming herself in the process.

~*~

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k @indentity0018

@beggingonmykneesforher @idkwhatever580 @valentine585 @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld

@mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @i-luv-w1men @lesbiansweet

[gaypirate420]

Captain hook x gn!fairy reader headcannons pls 🙏🙏🙏

This man has been tormenting me since I was 12 and I need more of him.

OLD MAN TIMES UPON YE!

Glittery kisses // James Hook

Captain James Hook x gn!fairy!reader.

A/N:It's been a while since I wrote for captain babygirl so I'm sorry if it's ooc.

Fluff.

Not very fond of you at first, all fairies in Neverland are with Peter so he doesn't fancy the new shiny dot that flies above his ship at times on the night.

Color him surprised after finding out you're human sized.

He can talk to fairies, but not many want to talk to him, he doesn't blame them though he isn't the nicest to be around and his treatment of the Neverland fauna hasn't been good form.

But truth be told you've been eyeing the Captain for a while, you found his odd encounters with Peter funny and in your mischief you wanted to get closer.

You flew above his ship, waiting to catch a glimpse of him, some nights when he did sleep you peeked through the window to find him asleep on his desk, you've never knew that the horrid pirate captain Peter told stories about to look so...human.

You landed on the deck of the ship, his men drawing their swords or pointing their guns. He stepped closer to you.

"Reveal your intentions. Are you with Pan?"

All of his men can see your mouth moving but the sound that came out was the song jingle of bells, but he could understand every world.

He finds pride in being the only one that can understand you, a sense of mild possessiveness at knowing your charms and wits are only for him.

He did find a problem quickly, the fairy dust that flutter out of your gorgeous wings, he has to sweep the floors of his cabin and deck every time after your visits, those that became more and more frequent.

Speaking of your wings, he adores them, he's seen fairies and their wings, but yours are bigger, better to appreciate the details of.

You found he has a talent for drawing and his latest muse has been you.

"Is that meant to be me, James?" You asked as you flew above his head, he closes his notebook quickly, looking at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

"Cheeky thing, peeking over my shoulder, what happened to my privacy!? How uncivil of you!" He says quickly, trying not to appear flustered and panicked. You chuckled loudly, the sound like a wind chimes in a soft breeze, his expression softens and he only stares at you.

After you two started being officially together he dots on you a lot.

He cherries every trinket you find for him, a rock, leaves, feathers, random jewelry you find deep in the beach.

He's always on for a walk through the beach, or those secret spots on the heart of the island that somehow missed his sharp cartography skills.

The kisses. He loves your kisses.

Your lips felt so soft, like being graced with a feather.

The soft glitter that glosses your lips and ends up staining his face or lips. He loves it, his men at first would giggle among themselves until he gave them a stern look and a warning swing of his hook at the mast, threatening the next time it won't be buried onto wood.

Fairy dance moment with him. Not sure if he's flying because you're strong enough to lift his weight or if his thoughts have turned happy enough for the fairy dust to lift him into the air.

A/N: MY SHAYLAAAA UGGHH MY SHAYLAAAA, PLEASE keep requesting things for Captain Hook oh how I miss my wifeeeeee, I keep opening the James Hook tag and it's the Twink from D4 (no hate, I just want the old man). (Divider 1) (Divider 2)

[redheadspark]

Divine

Summary - Azriel and his mate find each other again during alone time

Warnings - SMUT! SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Although a bit mild, there is smut in this, no minors allowed from here on out!

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series. A little smut piece for Azriel and the Reader to enjoy together! I hope you like it!

"I don't like how quiet it is,"

"I knew you were going to miss him as soon as we dropped him off with Cassian and Nesta,"

"I wasn't going to say anything and ruin the mood,"

Azriel barked a laugh, walking over to the fireplace to feed fresh logs into the fire, across from the loveseat where you were already sitting. Watching Azriel feed the fire and let the flame rise a bit, bringing warmth into your little home, made you relax all the more as the early evening was getting darker outside. 

Both you and Azriel had the evening to yourself, Alec having a sleepover at The House of Wind with his Uncle Cassian, Aunt Nesta, and Cousin Rose. Rose was big enough for Alec to play with her, thinking she was so fun to run around with and play with for hours on end. Cassian reassured you and Azriel that Alec would have the best time with his relatives, promising to teach him how to sword fight and do flips in the air with his wings.

The latter Azriel shot down real quick, but he was happy to let his son go for the night,

Plus, you can tell Azriel wanted to have some time with you and only you. Since you finally healed all the way through from being near close to death, you were simply trying to go back to a normal life. Though normalcy was not going to be in your life anytime soon because of recent events: Eris was still on the run with no leads as to where he was, Autumn Court's alliance with Night Court was shaky because of Eris. 

With all of this happening, you were worried about Azriel. No one told you, but you caught onto the fact that Azriel had a personal target on Eris. He was too strung out, too tight in his backside and his stance, and there was no sign of him being relaxed anytime soon. You understood why, but you also didn't wish for him to be wound tight like a tot.  Even feeling the bond and how he was not even relaxed for one moment. Stiff, a bit rigid, and you hoped you could find a way to get him to relax and unwind. 

Maybe it was perfect timing that you two were alone at your home.

Azriel stood back up, looking at his handiwork in the fireplace and the roaring fire that was now active. You stayed in your spot on the loveseat, your head slightly cocked to the side as you were looking at your mate with adoration and love in your eyes. For the last week and a few days, Azriel nursed you back to health and made sure all of your needs were met. Applying the ointment to your wound, delivering your food to the bed you were resting in, traveling back and forth between the River House and your cottage to get you books and some of your cross stitching when he noticed you were getting bored. Mor joked that he was becoming more of a wet nurse than a Spymaster. Azriel never cared, he was more focused on helping you get back to health and making sure you were 100% better. 

With a nasty sliver of a scare along your wing, you finally were able to leave River House behind and head home. But even when you did make it home and were given permission to be mobile, thanks to Madja, Azriel still was on edge. Rightfully so, you couldn't tell him to calm down because the threat that almost killed you was still out there somewhere in Prythian.  You weren't simply wanting Azriel to go back to the leisurely being he was before, but you wanted that light back in him.

"You're quite good at that, my love," You teased, seeing that smile on his face and the reflection of the fire dancing along his cheeks and nose. He looked back at you, his silhouette against the orange tint of the fire would look daunting to others. But not to you, not when he was walking back over to you and lowered himself on the loveseat to be shoulder to shoulder with you. His wings touched yours, making him look over at your wigs that were tucked against your backside.  Reachingup, he grazed his finger along the scar that was still fresh. You shivered from the touch, your wing was a pinch more sensitive thanks to the scar.

"It's healing well," Azriel stated, his voice calm as he was looking at the wing with intrigue. You weren't paying attention to your wing and its sensitivity, you were focusing on your mate. Watching his hazel eyes dancing along your wing, the smoothness of his cheeks after a recent shave, even the soft smile he had made you feel at peace. 

"Thanks to Madja, and you," You replied, Azriel's fingers that were hovering over your scars moved away from your wing swiftly. He moved his hand over to rest in his lap, though you were faster, and took his hand in yours to cradle it. Azrielwatched, you simply lacing the fingers together and smiling at him. Maybe it moved him a bit, seeing how relaxed and calm you were with him since you both were alone. You had plenty of things to say to him but had no idea where to start. Azriel must have sensed your quietness, he looked at you in concern as he squeezed your fingers together.

"Sweetheart?" He asked tentatively, he was searching your face as you were looking down at your joined hands. You are overwhelmed in that moment, being able to be back home at your home, healthy, and able to share this moment with your husband and mate. It made you want to cry, but something was holding you back from bringing on tears. Azriel reached over with his spare hand, placing a finger under your chin to gently raise your gaze to him. All you could do was smile, Azriel was about to say something else when you finally spoke.

"I'm happy," You explained to him as he was searching your eyes. You might have sounded odd to say that since you were on the verge of crying, but Azriel said nothing and simply watched you as you kept talking, "I'm happy that I'm here, and I have you to thank,"

Your voice sounded broken, yet you were smiling as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, you were in good health and you had your family with you. Maybe you were thinking back to that moment when you woke up in River House, in insane pain, and Azriel perched over you like a guardian angel of sorts. 

Even with the pain, the near close to death, seeing Azriel gaze at you with so much devotion and love in his eyes was enough to bring you back again. You thought for a split second in the bed that you were in a dream, or that you died and were now in some kind of afterlife with Azriel waiting for you. 

But he did more than that, he brought you back to reality. 

Azriel gently grazed your cheek with a singular finger, catching the one tear that was about to spill over, and smiled lovingly at you, "You never have to thank me for loving you with all of me,"

He made it seem so light, so simple, even freeing. He rarely expressed his feelings to others, even with you though you two have been together for centuries. It was the very simple moments that were sprinkled with love and gentleness, youloved those moments since they showed an intimate side of Azriel that he rarely brought into light. 

"There was nothing in all of Prythian that would stop me from having you in my life, sweetheart," He explained, thefinger that traced your cheek was now curling around your jaw, his palm against your jawline and the touch alone was a shocking sensation to you as he searched your eyes with his soft smile and his bright eyes, "I've told you this before and I mean it when I say it: You make my life so much better. I can't picture going on in this life without you in it,"

It moved you to hear that from him, even though you've heard it say many times from him during your long span of a relationship and courtship. Even back when you two met so long ago as teenagers, fresh in your adoration and love for one another, Azriel poured out his love for you and was willing to give you his heart. He did, to which you took it delicately in your own hands and swore to never break.

You haven't broken it yet, hundreds of years and a son later.

You leaned up and kissed him, starting it soft and sweet as he leaned into your touch. His fingers still against your jawwere delicate for you to feel while he kissed you back and snuggled a bit closer to him.  Something about kissing Azriel in that moment, alone in your small living room away from the rest of the world, made you feel a like of fire in your belly.You knew this feeling, you've felt it so many times before in the throws of intimacy and passion. 

But this time, it felt so slow and like a crawling passion.  Nothing rushed the pair of you as the kisses continued, your fingers both digging into his hair and the soft shirt that he decided to wear that night. His own hands and fingers were moving as well, the hand along your jaw was still gentle but was holding you in a possessive manner.  His other hand was slowly inching up along your arm, sending you shivers and chills that you felt all along your skin and even under it as well.

It felt like you were young again, young and pent up with these losing feelings for one another as the kisses were slowly evolving and growing. Azriel never strayed in his affection towards you, his body curled over to you while you two were getting impossibly close and still kissing one another. Now it was passionate, that fire in your belly was only growing stronger as you felt Azriel trace your lower lip with his tongue.  Barely a graze along your lip with the very tip of his tongue.

You whimpered, moving without realizing it and you were now straddling him.

Something inside the both of you clicked open, like a tight chest that was locked down for so long and now finally free. Azriel tilts his head up to kiss you soundly and wrap his arms around you softly. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at him slightly as your head tilted to the side to feel him kiss you deeply. Nothing else was in your mind as Azriel was touching you, kissing you, making you feel so whole and alive again. Even after being with him for centuries and with a very healthy sex life, this time it felt different. It felt deep, It felt complete.

It felt alive. 

His fingers were now under your shirt, pushing up your shirt to be under your armpits to give you a chill along your soft stomach and backside.  You huffed, throwing it off within a second and diving back to kiss Azriel and framing his face in your hands. He smiled against your lips, you feeling his skin skim along your stomach and hips while your fingers were not moving down to the collar of his shirt to give it a gentle tug. Azriel laughed against your mouth as you tugged it again.

"Impatient little thing, are you?" He teased against your lips, though you silenced him with one massive kiss, your own tongue then licking into his mouth. He groaned, you having a small smirk as you were needing to lean back but Azriel was chasing after your lips. But you placed space between yourself and him, a hand on his chest and seeing his dilated eyes watching you like you were prey to him, His chest heaving, his lips plump and dark, and the flushness in his cheeks. He might have looked like a wreck to anyone else.

But to you, he was angelic.

"Who's impatient now?" You challenged back to him.  He grinned, a predatory-like grin etched on his gorgeous face as he then grabbed the collar of his own shirt and yanked it off. You watched as it fell to the ground, Azriel seeing it too as he broke out into a laugh.

"Thank The Cauldron these shirts are Illyrian friendly," He said in a snort, you giggling as well as you saw your shirt crumbled next to his.  Having this small moment to laugh, even when you both were shirtless and in a compromising position, was a sweet reminder of how you two were so in love with one another. The centuries of having one another,and learning from one another, all lead to a fulfilling life. Nothing felt bland or out of place, you still had those butterflies in your chest when you had these moments with him. 

You both took in a breath together, looking at one another with big grins on your faces as Azriel finally dived back in to kiss you. The heat was still there, no throes of passion but still active enough to have Azriel place his hands along your backside to touch your bra and the latches behind it. You were feeling so good all over, the heat was getting bigger in your stomach as you nodded against his lips.

"Please," You said along his lips, Azriel groaning in approval as his fingers were skillfully taking off the bra straps and letting your bra slip to the ground. His hands immediately moved, cupped your breasts as you moaned against his lips and curled into him more. The feel of his calloused palms against your soft skin, you feeling your nipples hardening immediately from his touch, it was a weakness for you that your mate knew far too well.

You could even feel your core reacting to this, shockwaves under your skin were felt like Azriel moved his lips along your lips and then to your jawline and then your neck. You clung onto him with one hand, your other moving down to undo the buttons of his pants. 

"Let's go to our bed…" You felt Azriel hum against your neck, making you shiver from his lips along your sensitive skin. But you shook your head rapidly, not wishing to lose this momentum or this drive that was building.  You popped the one button open skillfully with your fingers, and the sound alone was heard by both of you.

"No," you said hotly, feeling him lean back and look up at you while his hands were still cupping your breasts delicately. You saw that fire in his eyes alone just in the way he was watching you with desire etched all over his face. You took in a long inhale, almost feeling powerful to have the Spymaster himself bend to your will.

So you leaned down, nuzzling his nose against your own and looking at him directly in the eyes.

"I want you, here and now, on this couch," You instructed him.

You've never seen him cave so fast and so willingly.

You both moved elegantly, knowing this dance far too well as you both helped strip each other's clothes off while remaining close to one another. Like magnets, unwilling to be too far apart as you both were now bare and holding onto each other.  In this little home that was your safe space, a space you two built up and kept strong for years on end, your love was blossoming all over again. Feeling his lips descending to your breast, kissing one breast with delicacy and yet with fire while his other hand took care of the other breast with ease. You were too far gone in the lust and sensations of his mouth and hands on you to notice Azriel's own shadows licking along your skin, making the lust come out all the more. You had to give him credit, he knew how to use all his tools to his advantage. 

Moans and sounds of passion filled your little home as Azriel sunk into you, you both holding onto each other so closely as he finally sunk into you.  It always took your breath away, how he both stretched you to your limit and yet made it feel so perfect and so right. So many times in the past you thought how perfect he felt inside of you, snug against your walls and hitting the right spots within you that made you see and feel stars. You felt it again that moment, his cock fitting you so perfectly that you felt like you two were made for one another. It made you speechless for a moment, frozen in his lap as he was watching your reaction. No matter that you couldn't find the words or put together a sentence, you were feeling everything and everywhere. 

You had no idea what Azriel was thinking at that moment, watching up be speechless as he was buried deep inside of you. He was feeling that sensation as well, pure lust and euphoria rolled into one. Nothing else could feel this amazing, this close to heaven or any kind of heaven, and it all came from you.  Your shining eyes, your tender heart, and yourwillingness to love him for all he was and for all his flaws. But the physical love he felt for you heightened all the more.

But seeing you bare, eyes lusted over in bliss and love with your head tilted back and looking up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and your hair cascading down your back, Azriel was in love all over again.

"Mother Above," He said in a breath, almost sounding winded himself from the sight of you. If he were to die in that moment, he would die a happy being and have no shame in it. You opened your eyes, hearing him and looking at you with your breath barely on your lips. He smiled the rare smile that made you think he hung the moon. He uttered one word, a word that he would use to always describe you and his love for you:

"Divine"

From that moment on, you both moved so softly and carefully yet filled with passion and possession simultaneously. Youwere inwardly thankful that your home was tucked away from anyone else, giving you all the privacy to fully enjoy this moment with your mate as he rolled his hips deeply and almost in a feral manner. You were letting him, having the experience know that this wasn't going to be anything typical. Your sex life with Azriel was never typical: it was always driven to ecstasy. Somehow, this time seemed deeper.  Being on the couch in front of a roaring fire, the sounds of bothyourself and Azriel enjoying one another as you rode him carefully with his arms around you, it all felt like an out-of-body experience.

As you were getting close and closer to your peak, you were closing your eyes and leaning against Azriel as you were feeling every sensation: his cock hitting your sweet spot inside of you with every roll of his hips, his hands roaming along your sweaty skin, his lips brushing along your neck. Even hearing him moan and grunt, the pure love and lust he was feeling too while he pleasing you, was making you get closer to the edge as well.  You both were feeding off each other, a tactic you both have done for years and years.

I love you, Cauldron I love you so much. I can feel you….mph….everywhere! You hear in your mind through the bond,that his voice was sounding raw and emotional as you were moving hotly in his ear. You felt wrecked, emotionally and lustfully as you were attempting to connect words to make a thought or two. But he was fucking you so good, drilling into you to the point that you were losing your breath once or twice. 

Right there Az….fuck…right there! Please…please fill me up. You moaned through the bond to him, the rational side was slipping away and something else was taking over. Something that you could only show to your mate when you were in the throws of pleasure. Perhaps you weren't thinking about it too much, but Azriel let out a gutted moan. Something you never heard in a long time, such a long time. It made you open your eyes briefly, looking down at your mate and seeing the wrecked look on his face.  So disheveled, and yet beyond gorgeous to you as he kept rolling his hips over and over to not stop the momentum. 

You knew then that a new side of Azriel took over. 

Say that again! He pleaded in the bond, his eyes slammed shut as you heard his pleading tone in your mind. You were confused at first, not knowing what he was talking about while you were petting his hair and still staying so close to him. He said nothing at first, just grunting with every thrust he was giving, but you were moving your fingers then from your face over to the top of his wings, being dangerously close to running your fingers along the membrane to throw him off.

Say what, baby? You asked him, almost sounding a bit smug about it while you tried to hold back from touching his wing. Just seeing his face alone was enough to make you want to crumble and fall to pieces, your pleasure getting at an all-time high and about to tumble over. But you still had the one last piece of resistance, of control, to hold back until you knew Azriel was going to tumble over with you. 

To…oh fuck….to fill….fill you up. He confessed, having you smile widely in pleasure flowing through you so quickly to take over your entire body. Hearing that from your mate, from a Shadowsinger and feared Illyrian throughout all of Prythian and even beyond, stunned you.  He was putty in your hands, and the way he was shaking and whimpering against your skin, you knew he was close. Beyond close, and all he needed was a push.

With a brush of your fingers along his wing, you whispered against his ear, "Make me fucking full,"

He roared, orgasming and emptying himself into you in such a force that it made you cry out and orgasm as well.

The orgasm alone was enough to make your head swim and your skin crawl in the best way possible. The pleasure alone, mixed in with the lust and love that you had for one another was now filling the room as your body was riding through each moment that felt like a lifetime. Azriel clung onto you as he was shaking, still riding his own high as you felt like you were going through it in slow motion.  From the top of your head to the tip of your toes, it was all there. You felt out of your body for a split second, floating in the air right above your home and embracing the air.

You were floating back down to the ground again, back onto that couch where you felt boneless in the arms of your mate, who was still shaking himself and feeling just as exhausted as you were. Both of your shared labored breaths, you blinking slowly as the white-hot pleasure that once soared through you was now a Luke warm, a soothing warm. Azriel'sscarred but beautiful fingers were dancing along your bare back, his face dug into your neck and sounding breathless and exhausted. Yet you felt a smile along your skin, you grinning as your face was against his head.

"That's….that's a first," You commented in a gasp. Azriel laughed, sounding so light after giving you an earth-shattering orgasm, "Never took you to like something like that, sweetheart,"

"You bring out the side of me that I never knew I had," Azriel confessed, having you giggle in a shy manner as you finally pulled back a bit to look at a blissed-out Azriel. You loved this look, the look of bliss and pure happiness that could only come from something like this. You were feeling it too, the sense of being the only two beings in the world and everything else ceasing to exist. And having Azriel cradle you close in his embrace, almost shielding you from the outside world and keeping this small bubble of bliss intact.

"You know, the last time we were in a position like this….I got pregnant with Alec," You explained to him as you reached down and ruffled his sweaty hair. He lit up a bit from the memory, you thinking about it too that fateful night when you two were in the deep throws of pleasure together in your bed. It was in the same manner too, you being in his lap and cock buried so deep side of it that you felt every moment and the insane pleasure that he experienced. That memory alone was vibrant in your mind, Azriel leaning up and perhaps reading your mind through the bond, you feeling his flicker of joy over and over as he spoke up again.

"Are you suggesting that we have had a repeat of that fateful night?" He asked, almost in a tease as he saw you blush. Youwere about to hide your face from him, moving your eyes away from him. However, he was faster in catching your jaw with his fingers and making sure you were facing him again. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he kissed you sweetly. This kind of intimacy, this kind of love, it was something others around dream to at least experience once. Youhad it for centuries, years of building it up together and making it as strong as it was. 

As Azriel pulled away from your lips, he still kept his smile and his loving gaze on you as he searched your eyes.

"If we did, then I am all the more happy for It," You whispered, your heart beating out of your chest. You were thinking in the back of your mind that maybe down the road, sooner or later, another little one would be in your family. It was never a topic you or Azriel spoke about, but then again it wasn't closed either. Life with Alec was beyond a blessing, unlocking a part of your heart and soul you never thought you would have in this lifetime. A child that was the perfect mix of you and your mate, was all you've ever wanted and more.  And thinking of another child, another perfect child that you and Azriel would guide in the world.

It was so tempting.

"I think a shower is in order," Azriel hummed, carefully slipping out of you and you shifting a bit uncomfortably. But he moved swiftly, he picked you up bridal style, you laughing as your arms were around his neck and he stood up. You both were naked and yet ecstatic, Azriel carrying you over to the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom as you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

The flickering dream of perhaps another child in your family was still in the back of your mind. 

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @alwayshave-faith

[serra-says]

you have it all. you are Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster and Hallariel Seacaster, greatest pirate and fencer in the world, respectively. your parents were great, and they set you up to have a great life. it doesn't matter that you are two years older than all the other kids in your grade, and that there would therefore be a natural, social discrepancy between you and your classmates that would disadvantage you in making friends, because you spent two years adventuring around with your father, who loves you, and tells you so.

it doesn't matter that you get hurt, sometimes, by the hands of your father - he is, after all, only doing it for your own benefit, to help you get better and tougher. he means well, and says he loves you, and thus that must be true.

your mother loves you too, and she tells you so when she leaves you on your own for a year. she announces to the world how much she loves her son, and you revel in it because now everyone knows it, and maybe that will make it true. you can forget about the years spent without her, the years she focused so much on forgetting the world existed that she forgot to remember she had a child. once she did, though, she said she loved him, and see? his mother is great.

you are Fabian Seacaster, raised in a noisy household filled with rowdy pirates and sea shanties, with parties and all-nighters, with gunshots and sword-slashes and music booming. it doesn't matter that you now live alone - the entire school comes over to hang out at your place, and if you put on a podcast, a show, throw a study session or a party or ask the pirates in the barrels to sing you a song, then the silence doesn't feel like it'll take over and crush you beneath its empty fist.

the halls are big enough that there's not even an echo, barely the sound of your own breathing, and that's fine. if you keep showing up, if you keep dancing and smiling and partying people will keep coming over, and they'll choose you over and over and over again, and it won't matter that your father chose not to bail you out of jail and instead left you there for weeks. it won't matter that your mother didn't choose to remember you existed, and once you made sure that she did, chose to start a new family without you. these kids will choose you. you will give them every reason to.

you are Fabian. you have incredible friends, saved the world multiple times, you're the most popular boy in school and are Maximum Legend. you are so lucky. your father is dead. your mother doesn't think about you. your house was on fire, then hurled through the sky. your friends joke about setting it on fire again, and trigger your fears of rats, and laugh as you worry about your mother's new child, but it's all in good faith. they don't mean anything by it.

you have enough money to last you for a lifetime. if you withdraw it now, most goes to the person who traumatised you and became your sworn nemesis. it's good, though - your parents are doing this to ensure you are financially responsible. they love you. they care about you. they haven't looked at you in weeks. there's a lot of visitors to Hallariel and Gilear's room. your friends congratulate them. the hallway to your bedroom remains quiet, unwalked. you check if you have accidentally activated the ghost tattoo again, the fourth time today. the silence stretches on.

you are Fabian Aramais Seacaster, and you are so lucky. you turn on your music as loud as you can to break the quietude, and you are so grateful. you are rich, and popular. your parents love you. your life rules 90% of the time. and the more people say it, believe it, the truer it gets, you've learned. that's how faith works. you choose to believe it.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Me: don't make Charlie's habit of twirling / spinning Vaggie into a THiNG it can just be CUTE with no other headcanons behind it-

also me: what if Vaggie always loved dancing but took being an exorcist very seriously bc of the whole "learned to trust people on the battlefield" thing so the only time she felt she had an excuse for dancing with a partner was when she called it "training" or "unarmed sparing" and goaded Lute into doing it with her (Lute being Adam's second and Vaggie one of his best girls) (what, is Lute scared of not being able to keep up with her-?)

Lute: "This, is stupid."

Vaggie: "It's just like sparring."

Lute: "Then why can't I use a sword."

Vaggie: "The point is learning to read your opponent's body and move with it. A weapon only gets in the way."

Lute: "Or maybe you know which on of us would win in a real fight."

Vaggie: "OR maybe it's nice to practice WITHOUT someone losing feathers over it."

Lute: "Only losers lose feathers. If they don't like it they should start WINNING."

Vaggie: "Just put your fucking hand on my waist and do a box step."

Lute: "A what? Put my hand- where!?"

Vaggie: "Forget it. We'll dance like we're in a damn period piece ballroom scene. You can at least survive spinning me, right?"

Lute: "SPIN you?"

Vaggie: "Just hold up your hand and-"

Lute: "We look dumb enough as is! I'm not making myself look SILLY just so you can do a stupid spin."

Vaggie: "Fine."

Lute: "You need to watch yourself. Exorcist are heaven's first line of defense- we are the divine blades guarding the pearly gates. We need to keep ourselves sharp, focused- If you slip even once-"

Vaggie: "I said fine! I get it! Alright? God let's just, let's just get this over with..."

And then she's in hell, a year or so after Lute grabbed her wrist and pulled her eye-first onto a sword instead of a dance,

and it turns out the princess of hell is an eager and willing dancer, even if she's maybe not the most graceful or easy to follow- but it's the kind of challenge Vaggie loves-

(and not the only thing Vaggie loves)

-especially when Charlie's the one who cleared out a space, put on a playlist, and waved her into the middle of the room so they could laugh and bow / curtsy before making tracks across the carpet-

all of this, even though Charlie's still rusty at dancing, never was into it other much other than as another way to flail around to a beat, and here she is now, seriously trying to remember or learn all the different steps Vaggie shows her

this time it's a waltz

Vaggie's been avoiding waltzes. And sure enough she finds herself spacing out in the middle of it, coming back to the excited sound of Charlie's voice

Charlie: "I think we're doing it!"

Vaggie: "...hm?"

Charlie: "The waltz! It's been ages but, this is about right, right?"

Vaggie: "Oh uh, yeah. You've got it. Told you you would."

Charlie: (laughing) "And I told YOU if we made it through this it'd be because you're so good at making ME look like a good dancer! Even when my hooves keep snagging on the carpet... Even when you're a million miles away."

Vaggie: "Shit. Sorry."

Charlie: "No it's fine! Good practice for me leading!" (leading them onto a new patch of floor) "So! A lot on your mind?"

Vaggie: "Just remembered something, is all."

Charlie: "Waltz related?"

Vaggie: "I wouldn't compare this with that."

Charlie: "Aww, shoot." (pouts) "Well give me a few months and I'll get there."

Vaggie: (chuckling) "Charlie, you're already WAY past the last dance partner I had."

Charlie: "Wow. That bad huh?"

Vaggie: "What'd I just say about you and dancing?"

Charlie: "That at least I'm not totally the absolute worst ever?"

Vaggie: "Yeah no. Try again."

Charlie: (grinning) "I'm better than they were."

Vaggie: "You sure are. Actually trying counts for a lot, honestly."

Charlie: "You make trying things a lot easier." (hoof catches) (stumbles) (vaggie steadies her) "Case in point!"

Vaggie: "We really gotta remember to roll up the carpet next time."

Charlie: "Orrrr you'll just have to go on catching me!"

Vaggie: "I'll do that with or without the carpet."

Charlie: "Right!" (face hot) "Er so, were they clumsy too? Lacking in the whole smooth moves department?" (blushes MORE)

Vaggie: "The moves were fine, the ego got in the way a bit."

Charlie: "Ego?"

Vaggie: (sighs) (rolls eye) "Apparently twirling me would've looked too silly."

Charlie: "Wh- Twirling you?"

Vaggie: "Spinning. Whatever. They cared about that a lot and- I know I know- it's a dumb thing to still be hung up on."

Charlie: "Well I'd be honored to look silly with you!"

Vaggie: (laughing) "Okay?"

Charlie: "Can I spin you?"

Vaggie: "You really don't have to."

Charlie: "So we can do it on three? One. Two-"

Vaggie: "Really it's- watch out, table at 3 O'clock-"

Charlie: "-Wheeeeee~!"

Vaggie: "WHOA- that-" (breathless) "Now THAT was a spin."

Charlie: "Eheheh. Whoops?"

Vaggie: "Oh no, no whoopsing your way out of this one, I'm gonna need to inflict some payback spinning of my own." (grins)

Charlie: "Uh I'm kinda tall for-"

Vaggie: "You ever been lifted?"

Charlie: "I mean when I was a kid sure, but I'm like a foot taller than-"

Vaggie: "On three. One."

Charlie: "-Vaggie you come up to maybe my shoulder-"

Vaggie: "Two."

Charlie: "-not that you can't do anything you set your mind to, obviously! I'm just not sure how-"

Vaggie: "Three."

Charlie: "Hwha- OH!" (gleeful) (laughing) "Ohhh my gosh-!"

Vaggie: (smug) "There's more than one way to twirl a girl across the floor."

Charlie: "Spinning WHILE lifting!?"

Vaggie: "Fun right?"

Charlie: "SO MUCH FUN! Can we do it again!?"

Vaggie: "Sure-"

Charlie: "Ooh ohh can I do it to you too? Can we take turns??"

Vaggie: "Not worried about looking silly, huh?"

Charlie: "No! Why would-" (stops)

Charlie: (stops their dance)

Charlie: "Vaggie, I.... I really don't know why anyone wouldn't want to be silly with you. Or how it could ever be more important than seeing you happy like this."

Vaggie: "...Not everyone's like you, sweetie."

Charlie: "Or maybe everyone just needs to actually see you for once."

Vaggie: "I'd rather just stick to you for now. If, that's okay?"

Charlie: "Always."

(dance resumes, much slower, much closer)

Charlie: "It's, it's okay to miss people too, you know. I know, I mean. How much that sucks. If you, want to talk about...?"

Vaggie: "No. Thanks."

Charlie: "You're missing them though, huh?"

Vaggie: "It's not that. It's just, weird how much things change."

Charlie: "Like dance partners."

Vaggie: "Like your reasons for dancing with them."

Charlie: "....Oh."

(do they kiss???) (i have no idea) (maybe Vaggie just relaxes and rests her head over Charlie's heart) (maybe Charlie tries her best not to think about how hard it's beating)

(maybe somewhere up in heaven, an exorcist with a sword does a box step while training, slips, and slices her target in half in fury when she realizes it)

maybe Vaggie always loved dancing but had to end up in hell before finally getting to dance the way she always wanted to

or maybe

it feels like Vaggie never danced at all, until she had Charlie to share it with

[justwinginglife]

The Waiting Game

The line between friends and lovers is dangerously thin and Soshiro Hoshina likes to fucking cartwheel down that tightrope like it's his personal plaything.

Any stranger walking by could see he was clearly checking you out, but if asked, he'd simply shrug and say something about how it was his duty as your friend to make sure your fly was zipped or your socks were matching. He never thought to make himself less obvious as he took in the sight of your shirt that dangled just a little too low or your pants that hugged your curves just a little too tight. He didn't have to. If you claimed to notice his wandering gaze, you'd be setting yourself up for a witty rebuttal. He might say, "Oh, look who's paying so much attention to me, if I didn't know better, I'd say you liked me," or even, "Don't go telling me you didn't wear those clothes on purpose, we both know the truth." He had all sorts of banter at the ready, quips locked and loaded. He wanted to corner you, to checkmate you, to coax a confession from your supple lips. Of course he loved you. But it was much more fun to make you admit you loved him too.

And you did. You wore that shirt on purpose, you wore those pants on purpose. You bent over in those pants on purpose. But two could play at this game, and you were awfully good at chess.

If he was a tightrope walker, you were a sword swallower. You could take anything he'd throw at you, gulp it down, lick your lips, and have room for seconds. Maybe throw in a burp for good measure.

So the circus act continued, both of you juggling offense and defense, both of you thinking yourself the lion tamer. It was anyone's guess at this point, who would cave in first.

You pictured the two of you on your deathbeds, your hands wrinkled with age, still trying to wring a confession from each other's throats. It was honestly a terrifying notion, thinking that eighty years from now, your feelings might accompany you to the grave, unvoiced, unreciprocated. But it hadn't been eighty years yet, it had only been one, and your pride was still in prime condition, even despite Soshiro's attempts to wear it down.

When he bragged to you about his hot date, eager for your reaction, you simply pointed him to your favorite flower shop and told him what to buy her. When he ended up not going through with it because some mysterious illness overtook him, an illness that only lasted the length of what would have been the date, you simply smirked and remarked on how convenient it was that his condition was so particular. He had shrugged, saying, "Maybe I was allergic to her, who knows?" You had laughed and he had smiled. Then you both went about your usual day, stealing time from each other whenever you could, sneaking glances, subtly inching closer, the distance both an inch and a galaxy apart.

The gap only widened when Captain Ashiro relayed to the Third Division news of the Winter Ball. It was like prom for soldiers, and when you heard the announcement, you felt like you were right back in high school- everything infamously familiar, right down to the nerves that threatened to swallow you whole.

You could always pull the, "You're single, I'm single, let's go as friends," card. But you weren't sure that either of you would be content with that resolution. Neither one of you wanted to resign yourselves to a night of awkwardly sitting at a side table, using small talk to fill the simmering silence, as you watched other couples slow dance their way into oblivion.

But unfortunately for the both of you, rather than declare a draw, your little game with each other continued, even as the event drew nearer. You'd ask him who he was going with, feigning nonchalance, and he'd dodge the question, feigning ignorance.

At some point, you bought yourself a dress, though you had no idea why. There was only a week to go, and still, no one had asked you for the pleasure of your company on that night, not even him. You weren't sure you should even go. But still, you let your hopes drape from a hanger in your closet, in case maybe he decided to overturn the chessboard, throw the match, ask you out.

Narumi beat him to the punch.

When you asked him why he was asking you so late in the game, he merely shrugged, saying he hadn't realized the ball was happening in the first place, but now he knew and he wanted you.

Soshiro had caught wind of it.

He ignored you until an hour before the dance.

He knew you liked to hide on the roof when you got nervous, and as he climbed the stairs to the top, he begged you to be there. He hoped you were having second thoughts about going with Narumi. He hoped you were pacing in your dress, waiting for him to whisk you away, because he was ready to whisk you away. He had dragged his feet through this whole fucking charade, and now he suddenly found his own pace too exceedingly, disgustingly slow for his liking.

When he got to the roof, all that awaited him was a cold breeze and the night sky. He collapsed on the floor, leaning back to take in all the stars. He didn't care anymore if he got his suit dirty, he only wore it for you anyway. His finger traced patterns of constellations as the white of his breath stained the air. He wished on every single star that he could see you tonight, all dressed up and gorgeous. He didn't have to see you to know you looked stunning. But he had planned to go home after he finished this sulking session. He didn't want to see how happy you looked with Narumi. Of all the people, why did it have to be him? The idea of you with anyone else but him made him ache, but the idea of you with Narumi made him want to tie a noose around his neck.

Another half hour of brooding later, he decided he needed to go home. That, or freeze to death, which would serve him right. But he turned towards the door and suddenly, there you were, his light in the dark, his warmth in the cold. And you were dazzling. He knew you would be. You always were, no matter what you were wearing.

"Y-you're here."

You nodded. "I'm here. And you're here. Why are you here?"

He pulled his jacket tighter around him. "This is your spot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is. Were you looking for me?" You tried to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, but it seeped into the frosty air all the same.

He fidgeted with his cufflinks, nodding slowly.

You began walking over to him, and he knew you were going to sit down so he quickly took his jacket off for you to sit on. He didn't want to ruin your dress.

You shook your head at him. "You look freezing, put your jacket back on. How long have you been out here anyway?" You threw his jacket back around his shoulders, plopping down next to him, unbothered by your dress.

He blushed and looked away. "That's not important."

The silence resumed.

"It's your favorite color." You blurted out suddenly, desperate to fill the air with something, with anything.

He immediately knew you meant your dress. He had noticed. "It's nice."

You coughed.

He chuckled. "Alright, it's more than nice. You look breathtaking. Seriously, I'm having trouble breathing with you so close to me." He teased as he nudged you with his shoulder, trying to make light of the awkward situation.

"You don't look so bad yourself. Even for someone who's half frozen to death. So why were you looking for me?"

He bit his lip. "Had a, uh, question... for you."

You settled your head on his shoulder and you felt him tense up. "And what's this question of yours that's so important you almost gave yourself frostbite?"

"Will you.... will you go to the dance with me?" He held his breath as the words left his mouth.

You laughed. "Little late, don't you think? We're about a half hour away from it."

He groaned. "I know, I know. But don't go with Narumi. Please don't. He wouldn't know romance if it shit in his lap. He doesn't know how to treat a woman."

You smirked. "And you do?"

He looked at you properly for the first time that night, his gaze locked on yours with a sudden sense of determination. "Yes, I do. If that woman is you. I know everything about you. I have to. Knowing you is the second greatest pleasure of my life."

"And..." The words caught in your throat, "And what's the first?"

"Loving you."

Your heart soared in your chest. "I love you too."

"So will you be my date to the dance? And the rest of my life?"

You kissed him in response.

Suddenly the cold faded from your bodies, the frigid air rescinding itself from your lungs, as your warmth intermingled in a display of passion.

"So, what should I call this, checkmate?" You teased him as you pulled away from his lips, leaving him wanting more.

He rolled his eyes but nothing could make him less smitten than he was right now. "I call this me throwing the match."

"Well, better late than never, baby."

You kissed him again.

And then the both of you danced the rest of the night into oblivion together.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

May I request a Dark/ Dink x reader fic? One where there’s a royal ball at Hyrule Castle, and Dark decides uninvitedly go and crash it. But, unexpectedly for him, he finds something (or someone) else that captivates his attention more. He ends up becoming the star of the ball but for an entirely different reason than what he originally came there for. Smut or not, doesn’t matter to me!

Thank you! ( *´꒳`* )

So first off, this is a beautiful idea and I'm so glad you sent this in!!! Prepare for heavy victorian ball vibes <33

Sway

Pairing: Dark Link/Dink x Reader

Warning(s): Hyrule's worst PR nightmare, but otherwise sfw <3333

Notes: For context, I've sourced most of the outfits from the Rococo period (1720s to 1770s), specifically after the French Revolution. DM me if you want a rant on Hyrulean fashion choices, and feel free to view Dark's outfit inspiration (obvi different color schemes) for more context <333

Masterlist

"I can't believe this," you muttered, gently yanking on the neckline of your gown with the subtlety of someone who wished for nothing more than to be in bed with hot tea and a good book. It was the color of fine wine, or old blood, though you were more concerned with the implications than the color itself. Why was it red? You weren't going to be fighting at Queen Zelda's ball, and you sure hoped it stayed that way. "Do you believe this?"

"You sound thrilled," responded Aisha—your closest friend and the only maid brave enough to yank the strings of that blasted corset until your ribs nearly crumped from stress alone—from behind you in a tone that said, under no uncertain terms, would she lie so you could fulfill your aforementioned fantasy of how to spend the night. She gave another yank, and you could have sworn the creak of your ribcage was certainly not a figment of anyone's imagination. "Ecstatic, even."

Your eye twitched. "I'm going to—"

"Not in that corset, you're not. Five rupees says you can't even lift a sword without gasping for air. Or ten. I can be flexible."

"...You're impossible," you hissed without any real heat, biting your lip when the dreaded thing were finally tied off, the strings tucked in the depths of your ensemble while soft hands yanked the bodice back over your plumped chest. You eyed the sword nestled on the bed in the middle of the room, where it had resided for the last two hours "Fifteen rupees and your favorite novel."

Aisha laughed, swiping a few wayward strands back in the general direction of her straw-colored bun before shaking her head, hands on her hips. "No can do, soldier. Five or nothing, take it or leave it."

You huffed—or tried, because, really, you doubted there was even enough air left in your lungs for such a feat—in exasperation, seconds from throwing your hands in the air at the blatant injustice. What had you done to deserve this?

The maid sighed at your response, expression softening slightly. "Listen, I know they don't exactly include balls in Royal Guard training, but try loosen up. Perhaps a dance or two will help?"

She was right, you knew. Absolutely, completely right. Still, the reason you'd chosen to join the guard was to... well, you were rather keen on making something that felt like a difference, and it was difficult to see how dancing in a ball would accomplish that. Maybe it had to do something with the recent promotion to 'Captain'? Nahhh. "You're talking like I'm still capable of basic breathing—"

A hand was haphazardly waved, and Aisha looked more exasperated as the exchange continued. "Oh, come off it, don't tell me it's all so different from the campaign to Gerudo Town."

"Okay, I won't tell you."

Your newly-assigned quarters were silent.

Then, a knock on the door.

Your friend's expression shifted. She patted your woefully exposed back before moving to the thick door. "You may meet someone."

Ah, of course, the illicit, shared dream of nearly every member of the Court: find a spouse to share the bitter, rib-sticking pain of adult life. You forced a sigh, then a sly smile. "I trust you're referring to the slimy council members that drool over the Queen's every movement?"

"Who else?" chuckled Aisha with an even more conspiratorial grin. Before you could manage a weak laugh, her wrist turned, and the door creaked open.

This was ridiculous.

Champagne zinged down your throat as you took a less-than-delicate sip from the half-empty flute, eyes scanning the crowd with no less calculation than the battlefield. To the left, a gaggle of ladies in waiting fluttered and preened. They were pretty, and likely wonderful conversation if you wanted to discover who was available for marriage or scandal alike. To the right, a gathering of ministers that you weren't tipsy enough to entertain just yet, and in the center, a sprawling ballroom filled with a veritable sea of whirling couples and small islands of conversational stability. Gentle music filtered from the small orchestra next to the temporarily-vacated throne, drowned out only by the unpredictable rise and swell of tittering voices. You'd already danced with enough people and drunk enough to make the experience only half as annoying as it was when you first entered.

Your eyes met the bluebell gaze of the Queen's advisor--the very man who assigned to the the incredibly unhelpful role of mingling with Hyrule's higher society--from where he was nestled among the ministers, holding it for a few eternitous seconds until you broke it, fearing he would hear the dialogue bidding him to choke on a sip of champagne through your eyes alone.

What you would give for a good spar. Or a flash of drama requiring a sword to solve. Or, better yet, a chance to get the hell out of here.

And, as if summoned by your desperate plea and a shred of Hylia's will, it came.

A soft cry emanated from a nearby hallway; not quite one of pain, but it was enough to have your ears perking in interest. body subtly shift to face the arched awning. There was another sound, louder than the first, and you decided some reconnaissance was in order. Glass placed on a random servant's tray and dress hiked to your bare ankles in the most scandalous of displays, you slipped through the doorway, leaving the party and all expectations of propriety in the metaphorical dust.

If anything, the hallway was a thousand times quieter... and just as boring. The stone walls glowed golden in the torchlight, shadows dancing over them like silk as you crept forward, not yet satisfied with the apparent oddity. Many long years in the military had honed your instincts, which were absolutely screaming at you.

Something was very, very wrong.

Just as you rounded the corner, it happened.

A man—night-black hair and irises that would have looked akin to blood had they been any darker, dressed to the nines in crimson and obsidian silk—all but materialized before you. He was tall, and solidly built in a manner that you absolutely had no right to admire, and looked absolutely shocked when you practically collided with his chest.

"Fuck," the curse slipped from your teeth like water; very unsightly, inappropriate water because you hadn't gotten the best at controlling your language when startled. Thankfully, returning to diplomacy was a honed skill of yours, as was the millisecond schooling of your expression and the militant folding of gloved hands behind your back. "My apologies. Are you looking for the ball?"

The man seemed to undergo his own facial schooling, eventually settling on a grin that seemed a bit too sharp. Was he new to court? You couldn't seeing anyone like him in council meetings and the like, so the only explanation was a newly-inaugurated nobleman or simply one with a rare knack for privacy. "I am well aware of the ball's location," he said, eyes roving what you hoped was only your face with what you concurrently hoped wasn't interest, and you suppressed a cringe at the shiver that ran down your spine. "I'm merely seeking... a bit of fun."

Hylia, either he was up to something or some sort of deviant. Both were equally taxing, and with how close he was in proximity to the taunt shape of your body, you truly hoped it was the second option, lest you be forced to rip your corset to shreds and make an arrest on the one night everything was supposed to go according to plan.

"Well, there's certainly more than enough of that going around," you waved a hand in the direction of the ball, keeping your expression neutral. "I expect a rhapsody of some kind within the next minute if you're quick."

His eyes twinkled with... was that amusement? "A rhapsody, you say?" there was a short pause, but you rather thought it was only there so he could clear his throat and adjust his neckerchief like a bothered lad who had never worn one before. "Pity, I have no one to dance with."

"A shame indeed," you responded without missing a beat. You were all danced-out for the night, and in desperate need of some hard liquor. And a bath. Definitely a bath. Besides, you had some suspicious activity to uncover, which is why you used the last of your common sense to perform the smallest of bows, every muscle in your body primed for sidestepping this interesting gentleman. "Good evening."

Unfortunately for him, every muscle in your body was also primed for the rather rude attempt to grab your arm, which you sidestepped while simultaneously shooting what you hoped was a very venomous glare his way. As his eyes widened a fraction, you could only think of the nerve of some people. "I'm terribly sorry," you lied, dusting the delicate silk of your shirt. "But I've no time for fun tonight."

A beat passed.

Then another.

And you saw it.

Something dark flickered on the man's neck; something black and dangerous and oh-so-familiar.

You had seen him before, vaguely, in a fuzzy memory from a battle years ago, before the idea of him faded from public scrutiny with the victorious return of Link, the Hero of Hyrule.

Dark Link.

And he was here, in the center of everything you had fought so hard to preserve, in the epicenter of what the blood and sweat and tears of countless soldiers worked tirelessly to protect. He was here, and you were standing before him. Weaponless, not witless. Your hand moved before your mind could beg it to stop, extending in the man's direction. "On second thought," you said; tone light, gaze fixed. "Maybe I could spare one dance."

Your skin prickled the second he grinned. It wasn't a nice expression--filled with far too many teeth and what could only be described as a vibe so terrible there was nothing more you wanted than to draw your nonexistent sword and jam it straight into his chest cavity--but you supposed that was the point.

The filth staining his neck receded, and Dark Link took your hand in a grip that could kill.

"Gladly."

His skin was cold.

If you didn't hate balls before, you sure as hell did now.

It was one thing, being forced to attend and dance with every slimy politician on this side of the land, and a complete other to have one such dance stolen by what could only be described as the literal embodiment of evil, even more so when you realized, with mounting horror, that he was quite adept at the waltz, of all things; arm coiled around your upper back, roughened fingers intertwined with yours as you spun to the beat of the music. People stared, likely noting the unlikely union from how you had sulked at the side of the ballroom for a good ten minutes, but there were no screams, or calls for murder, leading you to believe that he was indeed dead to public eye.

When the song dipped, and so did your bodies, you took the opportunity to hiss in his ear.

"I know what you are."

Your impromptu dance partner remained unfazed. If anything, he seemed excited. Freak, your mind whispered as chilled breath tickled your cheek. "I'm well aware."

Well, fuck. Not that you were particularly worried, because, while leading him to the epicenter of everything you held dear wasn't the most sound plan, it was the best way to, hopefully, attract the Queen's attention, which would lead to an arrest, then a very wonderful, very public execution.

Your lips ticked up at the thought.

Within moments, the song ended, and the orchestra paused for a short break, though the room was hardly silent as a din of polite clapping filled it. You and Dark Link broke apart, and you used the opportunity to sneak glances at your fellow guards.

They were watching. Every single on of them.

If you strained your ears, you could hear the distant march of an approaching squadron. Heart pounding, sealed with stone in the confines of your ribcage. You didn't know why he was here, or what he wanted, but he would not get it. Not now, not ever.

A cold hand clapped down on your shoulder. Blood-bright eyes dove straight for your pupils, then your jugular.

"Another dance, my dear?"

"Don't call me that," you hissed, slapping his wrist with enough force to make your palm quiver numbly. He knew you knew; there was no reason to pretend otherwise. "Why are you here?"

The root of all evil fucking grinned at you, teeth a shade of blinding white that made you want to punch them through. "I was simply bored," he said, like it explained everything. Like it made up for all the years of terror. "And I always seem to find such... captivating company where I'm not supposed to be."

Your lip curled in a snarl, and the air turned frigid. More guards dotted the perimeter, each more heavily armed than the last, and several patrons were already milling to the entrance.

Dark Link's eyes flicked over your shoulder. His expression turned sharp, and the hand on your shoulder clenched tight enough to leave bruises. "Unfortunately, it seems I've overstayed my welcome—"

"You were never welcome, filth."

"—and what a mouth on you, too! Don't worry, though, I'll have that dance," at long last, he released you, stepping back a few paces as a new grin split his face. "Whether you like it or not."

BANG!

A cacophony of gasps rang out as the squadron burst through the entranceway, and, for a split second, you allowed yourself to feel a sliver of triumph. That, and the dagger Aisha had tucked into your bodice to get you to stop griping.

This was it.

The muscles in your arm tensed against constricting fabric, fingers itching to feel the comforting leather hilt within them once more. The taste of iron lay heavy in your throat, intermingling with the fading zings of champagne. For the first time in years, you were grateful for the contrast.

This was it.

It happened in a mere moment. The guards surged forward at the same moment you drew your weapon from the snug confines of your bosom, glossy enough that you could see the blurred reflection of Dark Link's face in the polished metal. The heel of your left slipper clicked harshly as you planted your foot, using it as a springboard to complete a lunge that would have been far more effective without the damn deathtrap of a dress, but you really weren't in the place to complain when movement was still a somewhat possible option. Leave it to Hylian high society to be the death of itself.

The world seemed to fade away, seconds ticking away with each inch your dagger fell, the tip pointed squarely towards the only place you could kill a demon: his heart. It was only as you caught the flash of bloodborne irises in the shining metal that you realized your mistake.

Dark Link's grin was nothing short of wicked as he sidestepped the blow with all the grace of the dancers that sometimes entertained the queen, so quick that you hardly saw anything but a seconds-long wisp of pearly whites, fanged for terror, and the accompanying wink of blood-red gums as the Demon slipped to your side. Your body pitched forward, and a sliver of panic bubbled in your chest when the corset gave a warning creak, just barely managing to pivot on your opposite foot the knights of Hyrule began to crowd the scene.

Teeth gritted, flanks covered by two guards, you took another broad swing in the direction of the personified scourge of Hyrule, who only seemed to revel in the attention only a dozen gleaming claymores and just as many enraged gazes could provide.

The sliver grew to a throb when the point of your danger sliced through thin air. Dark Link materialized a few meters away, and, at that moment, you would have given anything for a chance to slash the self-satisfied smile from his face. The scent of sulfur filled the air when another knight tried his luck against the Demon, and a scream ripped from your throat when the hall erupted in a wide burst of flames, swirling like a hurricane to singe the exposed skin on your breastbone. More yells filled the space as patrons began to flee, and you only just barely managed to catch Queen Zelda's wide green eyes through the firestorm. She stood across the hall; hand raised, glove abandoned to reveal the sparking insignia of the Triforce as it glowed golden against pale, milky skin.

Heat burned your face like a slap, and you could feel your lungs struggling to pull in more oxygen amidst the swirling ash that rose from Dark Link's direction, as black as the sun was bright. Something bumped your shoulder, and the familiar silhouette of Sir Rogan molded close, and a thick shield was raised to defend you both.

Familiar brown eyes pinned you in place, as did a mustache soaked in ash and mouth pulled tight by duty. "Are you hurt, Captain?!"

"Not yet," you hissed, squeezing your palm to feel the weight of your dagger. There was only thing to do now, meaning you felt not even a hint of shame in bringing the blade to your bodice, wedging it between the damned corset and equally distracting outer fabric of your dress, cutting it in one movement that would have earned you a lifetime's worth of ribbing had it been any other situation. Sir Rogan had the decency to only look halfway scandalized when you reached to his side and relieved him of his short sword. "Hold the line, Sir."

When a burst of golden light zinged across the hall, and your eyes finally caught the blurry-black silhouette of the Demon himself, you launched once more, channeling every bit of training and tears and late nights wondering how in Hylia you were going to survive into the swing, which was mercifully uninhibited due to the now semi-tattered remains of your gown. Fuck propriety, and fuck terror, because you would sooner fear Sir Sonda's propensity for nudity than some wannabe copy of the Hero.

Dark Link's face grew clear as the smoke and light faded. This time, he was not grinning. In fact, he looked rather shocked, though you supposed it was due to the fact that your body crashed into his a moment later, sending the two of you careening to the marble floor. A grunt slipped past your lips, but it was nothing compared to the burning sensation in your arms as they struggled to keep the sword poised to strike, even as you rolled across the floor, swearing and spitting. Several gasps rang above the cacophony when you straddled the Demon's hips, a feat only made difficult by the damn skirt. The world continued to spin as you heaved a lungful of air, exhaling it at the same moment you brought your weapon toward his throat—

Coward, spat your mind, not bothering to register if your lips moved to convey it or not. He could see it in the flash of teeth through pink-painted lips,

—only for a dull crunch to ring out as tempered metal met cold stone. The firmness beneath you dematerialized in a matter of milliseconds, leaving you to drop a surprise foot onto the floor.

You blinked.

Silence reigned over the hall.

Then, chaos.

"Demon!"

"Find him!"

"Hylia help us, he's gone!"

Your chest trembled as you stared at the floor below you. A small crack spiderwebbed from where your sword had made contact with the marble, though it did little to calm the frantic racing of your heart or the tumultuous rise of your breast. The sounds of soldiers running filled the air, almost louder than the terrified shouts, but it mattered not when you... well, you had been so close. So close to feeling the frigid rush of black-blue blood across your skin, and the vengeful joy of serving your kingdom to the bloody fullest.

Slowly, you rose.

Slowly, you turned to face Sir Rogan; your eyes bright, your dress hanging in a way that would undoubtedly end up in every gossip column in the land.

"Hunt him down."

Should I make a part two?

[bunji-enthusiast]

Tristan and Lancelot with a gf like Mitsuri Kanroji?

So Just Dance With Me!

Genuinely one of my favorite hashiras for sure, girl did not deserve all that pain that happened to her throughout the story.

Tristan Liones

When the prince of Liones is your #1 supporter of all time, you can guarantee that you will never hear malicious words or comments about you at all. Tristan knows you may albeit a little self-conscious about your eating habits, so he does his best to ensure your privacy for the matter. your happiness is most important to him, and he prefers that you are happy and full then depressed because of spurred on thoughts uttered by others.

Tristan likes PDA, when appropriate of course. He really likes when you are affectionate, and returns the gestures whenever he can, Tristan appreciates you and will make sure you know that. The prince wants you to know you are loved, and just sincerely wonders who made you have such a view on love, he is sort of pissed about it.

Seeing you in action is honestly something jaw-dropping for Tristan to see, your flexibility and strength to hold your own is amazing (and reassures that he doesn't need to worry about you) for him to see as well. The nephilim wonders just how good you really are, when you aren't held back by outside forces in combat.

Tristan thinks you can only suit the hair color you bestow alone, when he wasn't given context at first though, he wondered how you pertained to gain such a color. Though when he knew about how you ate a constant amount of sakura mochi, it did make sense. The mochi are terribly yummy.

Though, he internally winces sometimes. Just how can you not hurt yourself with that sort of flexibility? Practice, lots of it he's come to learn. Tristan admired your motivation on your self-improvement, even if it was in the past before you two had officially met. You were mobile, fast and agile to ensure good health even in the midst of battle. He really admires that.

Once he had seen your weapon, though it was a sharp-sword; a katana -- Tristan was extremely confused as to why your weapon seemed to appear more whip-like. Yet it was the moment he saw it in action, wielded by your experienced hands that he had understood why.

Following the strengthening of your relationship, though not physically, there is one dominant similarity between you and Tristan. That was being gentle and kind towards your opponents (at the start, god forgive), and asking them to stand down. Though when there wasn't room for that anymore, it was too resort too more unforgiving measures.

To maintain your physique and body, you had eaten quite a lot. Which Tristan would never judge you for, but it was rather impressive how much you could eat in just under a minute, or four for that matter. Despite that however, he was never low on food expenses, being a prince meant that wealth came easy for him: so it was never trouble for him to buy you all the food.

Praise was easy for you, as you had always admired Tristan's strength, even if he was borne from two bloodlines mixed into one. You always thought he was exceptionally strong, which was perfect in your case, and he was considerate as well! You had gotten truly lucky to find such a gentleman, even if you weren't technically royalty like Tristan was.

Yet it was in admiring Tristan's will and strength to move forward, that had inspired you to keep getting even better. Though you didn't mind being saved by him in certain circumstances, you still needed to be able to keep up with your boyfriend.

Even with all that you endured, Tristan genuinely admires your silent and willful ideal to continue being kind towards those that you meet, even if the other had been rude to you. Like an out of this world goddess with so much patience left in her heart.

Lancelot

He generally has a tendency to like his partner even further when he knows that they can hold themselves in battle, which was a huge relief when Lancelot had seen for himself just how strong you are physically. Though he will never understand why people would say bad about you just for being a girl who happens to be strong, Lancelot personally thinks it's meant to be an attribute of great appreciation.

Though you have quite a bit of a bubbly personality, you tend to be quiet at times. Lancelot gets incredibly concerned when you do, not that he appreciates the lack of thoughts from flooding his mind, he still wonders why you have these moments. But it wasn't his place to pry, and decidedly narrows it down to reflection of the past, which he understands.

Lancelot is genuinely impressed when you hold your own in battle, whether it's one against one or even all out. Seeing you in action just somehow turns his perspective of battle differently, the way you grace the battefield with your flexibility -- invertedly different, but so strong for beauty.

There are times he envies your vulnerability to feel so strongly about others, Lancelot admires your steadfast character to be so kind to others, but serious when needed. There aren't many he finds to be like that, and considers you one of the few rare ones he found himself lucky for.

Your appetite to eat impassable amounts of food will always impress Lancelot, quite literally the one thing that somehow catches him off guard. But given the knowledge of your ability to remain flexible, and your overall physique, he better understands why you need to maintain that amount of food to eat.

Lancelot always has a smug-ass smirk whenever your the one to win in arm-wrestling contests, he loves it. Given your inhumane strength for a girl, it helps you overcome many challenges and obstacles, and to help others. But he mostly just really loves when you win arm-wrestling contests.

He wasn't very concerned about the shape and appearance of your weapon, Lancelot was already otherwise informed various types of weapons that may be used in combat. Though when he sees you wielding it in true fashion, he is amiable to praise, he thinks its pretty neat how well you can wield your passioned craft.

Though you were spurred on only to find a second half to your heart to be as strong as you, which you were very happy to see how strong Lancelot really can be -- you also fell for his charming aspects; vulnerability, and his discreet kindness. Even if he threw off the accusations of his acts of kindness, you could tell.

Reasonably so, one can have insecurities. Yet when he found out about the last time you attempted to have a relationship, and the things the guy said he devised a murder plan real quick he thought he was reasonably pissed. Cause who the hell says that about someone? Your strength was perfect, and the way you use it to help others is even more so.

Lancelot knew he was flexible to a degree, but compared to you? No way, you were far more agile and flexible than he was. Dodging blows seemingly impossible to dodge before, and performing techinques special to you that no one else could replicate. Though he really does think how your limbs don't get sore in certain spots from the constant moving, Lancelot is really impressed in that aspect, and commends you for your improved talent.

When in training, there had been rounds where you had been the one to win against Lancelot. You two were often evenly matched, which made for longer training and more rounds. Though, it was also a lot of fun as well.

[linxnnalyn]

pookie... WE need knight mafuyu x princess reader, and yes WE, all of us need this, idc dating or doomed yuri we need this

Knight! Mafuyu being in a secret relationship with princess! reader

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> GIRL WHY ARE YOU IN MY HEAD I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT TOO!

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff and angst, secret meetings, stolen kisses, jealousy, suitors, training, sneaking away, grand balls, letters.

۫ ꣑ৎ Mafuyu is your royal knight, your sword, your protector. She would die for you, she would kill for you, but not just because of her duty to you as your knight, but because she loves you. Mafuyu sees you as her everything, her god, her savior. She doesn’t care what she is to you as long as she stays by your side.

۫ ꣑ৎ She hates that she couldn’t openly love you but she knew that it was for the better. After all, a princess falling for her knight, much less a woman would be very much scandalous and would ruin yours and the royal family's reputation, so she is content with loving you from afar, even though it hurt her greatly.

۫ ꣑ৎ Mafuyu trains a lot more than the other knights in the castle. While it is mostly because she wants to protect you it is also so she could let out all of her anger and frustrations. The other nights are also often the victims of her hidden anger when she trains with them (which is rare).

۫ ꣑ৎ She knows the way throughout the castle like the back of her hand. Mafuyu knows every secret passageway which helps when you two have to sneak around, especially during the day when you wish to escape your royal duties and/or your suitors, stolen kisses and touches.

۫ ꣑ৎ Mafuyu watches you dance at grand balls with men you do not love, their hands on your waist, their eyes hungry. It makes something feral stir in her chest, but she keeps her expression unreadable, guarding you from a distance—just another knight in the crowd.

۫ ꣑ৎ She knows she has no right to be jealous, after all you aren’t hers, but by the lord she wishes you were. You might love her, and she loves you too but Mafuyu knows that one day you will have to marry some cocky prince, and she knows you two wouldn’t be able to be together.

۫ ꣑ৎ Mafuyu would often sneak away with you from the grand balls, finding a place where no one would be able to see you two. Wherever it was a private garden or a hidden room, Mafuyu would hold you close, cherishing these stolen moments as long as she could before she’s forced to pull away.

۫ ꣑ৎ She hides her jealousy behind a mask of a protective knight. Mafuyu would make sure every single one of your suitors wouldn’t dare get as close to you as they wish. She would throw out their gifts for you in front of their faces. Mafuyu easily scares them away, which secretly makes her happy but she wouldn’t show it.

۫ ꣑ৎ The two of you would often write letters to each other, leaving them on a secret spot only the two of you know about for the other to find. It was your way of showing your love for each other in secret. There are many nights when Mafuyu would sneak into your chambers, just holding you close, her eyes looking at you as if you’re the most precious treasure in the world.

۫ ꣑ৎ She loves you more than anything, but she knows she could never truly have you. Mafuyu has the sword, the skills to protect you, but not the crown nor the title to truly have you. But as long as she could stay by your side, as long as she could still hold you—even in secret—Mafuyu would be fulfilled.