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

[deesseshesca]

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

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

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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 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 

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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). 

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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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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[brittscafe]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞

Pairing: Renji Abarai x fem! reader

Summary: Fem! reader really loves snakes and finds out that Renji's zanpakuto is half snake.

Request: Aww, I'll request some Renji x reader fluff. How about reader who ADORES snakes getting excited when they find out their boyfriend's zanpakuto is half snake, and excitedly asking to see his bankai so they can pet the good noodle

A/n: I loveee Renji!! Also, I am so so sorry because this was supposed to be out literal months ago, pls forgive meee ���🥹 Anyways, here's Renji and the good noodle <3

Content: SFW, snakes, fem! reader.

"Aw! Renji, come on! You have to let me get a snake!" you whine out, letting out a deep sigh as Renji and you walk along in the woods. The sun glistens in between the tree branches, illuminating Renji's face.

"Why would we get a pet snake when we already basically have one?" he scoffs out and you furrow your eyebrows with confusion.

"What do you mean?" you ask, inquiringly. Renji glances down at you and his eyes slightly widen.

As much as you have fought side by side by Renji, you have yet to see his bankai. Which means you don't know that Renji's zanpakuto is half snake.

"My zankaputo, Zabimaru is half snake. Have I really never told you?" Renji asks and you stop in your tracks, scoffing. Your heart skips a beat and you rapidly shake your head.

You grab onto his shoulders and rattle him.

"How could you not tell me?! Can I see?!!" you gasp out, jumping up and down.

A deep chuckle bubbles up from Renji's chest and his eyes soften.

"Sure, babe." he replies and your cheer with excitement, anticipation bubbling inside of you.

"Zabimaru, release: Hihio Zabimaru!" Renji's voice roars out, thrusting his sword outwards. Your eyes widen as the wind starts to pick up and

The massive skeletal snake is wrapped around Renji, acting as a shield. Your mouth drops open at the large half snake appearing in front of you, razor sharp teeth as its mouth is slightly open.

"Y/n, meet Zabimaru. She's very excited to meet you," Renji comments with amusement and Zabimaru slithers in the air. The hair on your arms rises up and goosebumps form along your forearms.

"Wow," is the only thing you can say as you take in Zabimaru. You slowly reach out your hand as Zabimaru bows down its head to you, eyes closing.

Renji watches with a smile on his face as your hand gently caresses Zabimaru's nose. There's just something about watching his girlfriend pet his Zanpakuto that makes his heart melt.

You let out a giggle of happiness as you swear you can hear Zabimaru purr, even though you know snakes definitely don't purr. Zabimaru opens its eyes, gazing at you and a chill runs down your spine.

Renji gazes at the moment unfolding in front of him, Zabimaru and you bonding without needing words. It's beautiful, really.

"Are you ready to say goodbye now, y/n?" Renji asks with a gentle voice and you nod your head. Renji sheathes his sword and Zabimaru coils itself back into Renji's sword.

Renji gazes at the wide smile on your face, happiness filling his heart as he could tell how excited you were. He's glad he's the one could make you so excited and make your dreams come true for just a moment.

"Thank you!" you throw your arms around your boyfriend, squeezing him tightly. Renji chuckles and leans into your hug, a grin dancing along his face.

"You're welcome. You can ask to see Zabimaru anytime," he replies and you let out a gasp, untangling yourself from his warm embrace.

"Really?!" you proclaim, eyes glistening exhilaration and Renji chuckles.

"Don't push it though," he warns you, continuing to walk into the woods.

"Ok, I won't!" you call out, rushing up to catch up to him. You interlace your arm with his and lean your head on his arm as the two of you continue your walk through the forest.

[tired-needs-sleep]

i didn't plan on falling asleep, but it happened and i had a crazy dream again. i usually don't remember dreams very frequently but 2 in like a week's span is crazy in itself. anyway....

the setting is a place similar to blackstepple castle, a dark-colored castle that was very obvious was old. one event or another caused me, who happened to be sara this dream but for simplicity i'll just say kisaragi's name because i didn't exactly feel like me in the dream

they're with some friends and somehow they get captured. they're taken to the castle, and i don't actually think it was super far away. the terrain didn't change much, actually. it was all snowy. anyway, sara is thrown into a cell and faints, but a voice swirls around their head: don't know exactly what the full thing was but it ended with "you were destined to rule this castle." that's the last thing i remember in that part.

kisaragi's friends, who i didn't recognize from anywhere, found this odd pit with dark energy that they could interact with. it was in a cave but the area it was in had a hole in the roof to the surface. they messed around with this pit, and found that sara could somehow communicate with those friends through some means on the other side. don't know how because the dream never fully explainedz but what i did see was sara on the other side was in the bottom of the pit and could see silhouettes of those three friends, but if they tried to touch them they found it was just an illusion. but the voices were from the real friends and they even dropped some food down into the pit and it got to sara. yet i was aware this pit wasn't like a regular hole you know? like a portal that acted and looked like it wasn't one

at some point sara is trying to escape. unsure if there's anyone helping them but there's 3 different major guardians of this castle. and each had their own boss battle arena. sara got through two before they ran into the final one, a dragon. think it had four legs and wings and was dark colored too, but not the same as the castle wall color. like a navy blue color. anyway they try to go and escape through the door but it's locked, they get caught by this dragon, and are thrown back into their cell. again that voice says that they are destined to rule the castle, and she faints.

skipping over some time because i don't remember what happens between then and the second time sara and friends communicate again, they give them food and plan a second attempt to escape. once the meeting is over sara tries to touch one of their friends, but the portal's illusion ripples when they brush their fingers through. again, that voice speaks, repeats that they are destined to rule that castle, and instead of passing out, sara leaves and breaks through the prison cells, then releases the others in captivity after taking care of the guard. things get wild, prisoners are angry and vengeful against the guards with how they treated the captives. sara takes this distraction and bolts, some of the other captives also follow them. they easily cut through the first and second boss fight guardians, and for some reason or another, sara is the only one willing to actually fight the dragon. despite loosing the first time.

so they fight. sara does a little sword's dance and dodges the first attack. they manage to climb onto it's back, probably trying to reach the weak spot on the back of it's neck- like that's a hard place to reach on a cat or dog so i guess that's based in some form of logic. but then this dragon flies up, and flings sara into the air. that did.. almost nothing though. they use pursuit and catch up to the dragon, speed up it's back, and night slash. dragon screeches, and crashes down. it's a rough landing but they're alright.

i wish i could tell you what happened next, but i woke up around now. i remember seeing the dragon just laying there, but kisaragi was looking at it with shock. rightfully so, that was a wild battle, huh?

cool storyline even without some details that would've been helpful lmao. i just think medieval rpgs are cool and it's one of my favorite type of games

[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.

[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."

[claramelooo]

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

Obs: Christmas wishes were given in this chapter!

MINORS DO NOT MUST 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.

“Aah…” 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 her pussy against your 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 her soft breasts, massaging them.

She pinches her nipples precisely, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. I leaned in even closer, my 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 her 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?”

The woman’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 my 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?”

Wanda’s 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!” she growled at me, as she rubbed her intimacy against my 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 her 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 her essence from her fingers, the taste of her 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 your little girl’s body once and for all.

“Mo-mommy! It’s too much!” I can’t take it!” She 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.” Her 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. “And you’re enjoying it more than you should.”

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

[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

[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.

[bythepen98]

@zutaramonth Day 3: After all these years ||

I just love the idea of them learning to dance together and being so very cute and awkward about it at first 🥺💕.

Brief backstory:

Although they were busy preparing for the war, they still needed time to have fun and de-stress so a small feast with music and dancing seemed like a good idea. Zuko and Katara were pushed to spend time together by the rest of the Gaang because they've had enough of the weird distance between the two, brought by brewing feelings that both weren't sure about acknowledging yet. At this point, they've already resolved most of their issues and were on track to becoming really good friends until the 'complication' happened.

Feelings can be ass sometimes fr.

Somehow, what started as a one time, peer pressured, clumsy bonding attempt between two hyperaware-of-each-other teenagers ended up lasting longer than expected. Excuses would be made to continue dancing together because once the initial awkwardness has passed, they found that it was actually quite relaxing (especially for two usually hot headed people) just going through the motions and communicating with looks and gentle touches what they had zero courage to say out loud. Both were also restless and couldn't always spend their hours training so dancing felt like fair game. A very pleasant and completely platonic way of passing the time with a good friend, or at least that's what they told themselves.

Then the war ended, feelings were finally acknowledged and returned now that there was enough time to reflect and actually do something about it and time continued to pass. No matter the changes and busy schedules that came with adulthood and bearing the responsibilities of ruling/helping rule a nation, some things remained constant. Though they never broadcasted it, the Gaang knew that Katara and Zuko would sometimes be found at night just swaying in each other's arms while they quietly talked about their day. It became a tradition - their way to bond and reconnect after a busy day. It was also muscle memory at this point and something they would naturally drift to doing when the opportunity arose. If they weren't training, lounging and drinking tea or walking arm in arm along the courtyard for a stroll, they'd be dancing.

Ofc the dances varied. Most of the time it was simple, intimate, and didn't require much energy. It was during festivals and other special events where they'd let loose and swap partners with their friends. They definitely would've taught each other's traditional dances too. Most of the time they stuck to couple dances though.

The two would then make it to their golden years surrounded by friends and family. In this au, Aang, Sokka and Suki are definitely still alive and kicking and they, together with Toph, would reminisc about the good old days and pat themselves in the back for helping get Zuko and Katara together. They would've gotten together eventually anyway but the Gaang just sped up the process and the credit for starting the whole dancing tradition goes to them. Aang isn't afraid to admit that he and whoever he married in this au also partake in said tradition; Sokka and Suki would do so every now and then but they much prefer exchanging swords as their love language; Toph is indifferent and much prefers just sitting back and letting them enjoy themselves.

This is way over due but I'm glad I was able to finish it. Will sadly be the only prompt I'll be able to do for zutara month bc life threw a wrench and made me too busy, though I'm still interested in making the other prompts at a later date. /N

[starryevermore]

the shelf life of those fantasies have expired ✧ cardan greenbriar

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: cardan greenbriar x fae!fem!reader

request: Cardan angst fic? 👀 - anon

summary: the goddess of timing once found them beguiling. she said she was trying. was she lying? his ribs get the feeling she did.

word count: 1,977

warnings?: angst city™, no happy ending, dual povs, mutual pining, miscommunication, not proofread

PART TWO | PART THREE

When she stood at his side, looked so…natural at his side, it was easy to find you comparing yourself to Jude Duarte. No one understood why Cardan made her his seneschal, not when they had seemed bitter enemies before the Blood Crown was perched atop his head. You didn’t understand, either. The most Cardan had confined in you was that Jude helped him get the crown. Everything else remained a mystery. You would pass gossiping fae, those who sought insight behind the High King’s actions, and not have a single clue what to say. You wished you could lie, if just to be able to say anything but cryptic excuses for why Cardan stopped confiding in you. 

Once, you thought you might be the one standing at his side. Not as High Queen, of course—no one had ever dreamed that Cardan would sit on the throne. But he had been one of the few you would dare to call a friend. Before the crown was perched atop his head, you would’ve said he called you the same. Perhaps not in front of his other friends, or anyone else for that matter, but you used to be certain you meant something to him.

You weren’t sure why you were still here. The longer you stayed, the more your heart clenched in your chest. If you remained for just a moment longer, it would give out on you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jude bend down to whisper something to Cardan. You didn’t feel in control of your hand as it snatched a goblet of wine. It was heavy in your hand, but it managed to ground you. To give you a reason to not collapse where you stood. 

How had things changed so quickly? Just months ago, Cardan was sitting on your blanket during lessons, trying to see how many twigs he could stick in your hair before you would tell him to stop. You always tried to see how long it would take before he got bored of it. When did you become the one he grew bored of? 

“Dance with me.”

You lifted the goblet up, your head tilting back, finishing your wine in a single go. You set it down on a table and stalked away. Cardan followed after you. You spared a glance at the throne, where Jude still stood. Exasperation was clear on her face. Whether it was directed at you or Cardan, you couldn’t say for certain. You knew enough of her skill with a sword, though, to stay away from her bad side. 

“I am tired,” you said. 

Cardan’s hand caught your wrist. Jaw clenching and unclenching, you were forced to remain at the ridiculous party. You should’ve stopped coming to them months ago, but these events were the only opportunity to catch a glimpse at your friend-turned-king. 

“One dance,” he insisted. 

“I would prefer to leave.”

His hand slipped to your wrist. Fingers intertwined. When you tried to pull away again, his grip tightened. Your eyes lifted to meet his. If you shut them, you could imagine all of your dreams were coming true. “I would prefer you in my arms.”

“You’re drunk.”

Cardan’s grip slackened enough for you to wrench your hand free again. “Would you deny your king?”

The nonanswer was answer enough. Fae cannot lie. Cardan cannot deny his inebriation. He cannot deny that the one reason he would talk to you now was because his senses were dulled. Cardan Greenbriar does not consider you a friend any longer, so why would he ever seek you out sober? You wished you were drunk, too. It would hurt less. 

“Would my king force my hand?”

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. The same lips a laugh fell from. You took a step back. He stepped toward you. “One dance,” he repeated. 

By now, an audience had formed. You cared little for fae gossip, but if you tried to leave now, it would be impossible to escape those who wanted to know why you would deny the king. You held your hand out and let him take it. You ignored the way your heart stuttered as his thumb ran over your knuckles. 

“One dance.”

The smile Cardan flashed you was enough to make your knees weak. For that, at least, you were grateful to lean against him as you danced. It was easy, then, to lose yourself to the music, to pretend that things were how they used to me. When Cardan was your friend, when you told each other everything. If you lost yourself enough, you could imagine a crown perched atop your head. Jude could still stand at Cardan’s side. She was a damned good seneschal. But you would be the one sitting on his other side. 

Cardan spun you around the floor, a smile on his face. You pretended it was because he was happy to have you in his arms. “I only ever see you at these parties,” he said. 

“To be a king is to have a busy life,” you said. 

“I would make time for you.”

He would, but he hasn’t. Was he waiting for an invitation? Cardan never used to before. There were countless times you would awake to find him waiting for you at the foot of your bed. He never liked having to wait for you to ask for his attention. There was a time he freely gave it. Had the Blood Crown changed who he was? Did it force him to realize he could do better than you? 

The song faded into another, and you slipped out of Cardan’s arms. His hands still chased after you, but you artfully dodged them. A lump formed in your throat that you were quick to swallow. Months ago, you would have dreamed about a moment like this. Now, it felt like Cardan was using as a placeholder. As a symbol for someone he would prefer to dance but would never give him the time of day. 

You looked at the throne again. Jude watched Cardan. Her face was unreadable. It was no secret that fae looked down upon humans. You never fancied yourself that sort of person. Certainly not when it came to Jude Duarte. It took a special sort of person, fae or not, to capture the interest of a prince. If there was anyone who deserved it, it was her. If she was the one that Cardan wanted at his side, you would not stand in the way. 

“It was nice to see you again,” you said, because you knew you would not see him after tonight.

“Have breakfast with me tomorrow. I’ll have the cooks make your favorites.”

You could not tell a lie, so you only offered a smile. “Sleep well, Cardan.”

Before he could say anything more, say anything that might delude you into staying, you turned and left. Not a single person stopped you along the way. Not a single one cared whether you stayed or left—least of all the one person you wished to beg for you. 

By the time the sun rose again, you had left Elfhame.

Cardan Greenbriar drummed his fingers against the wood table. He had invited you to breakfast, hadn’t he? Wracking his still wine-addled brain, he tried to recall the conversation with you. Yes, he certainly said breakfast. Or had it been lunch? Cardan spared a glance out the window. The sun was nearly at its peak. Had he asked you to breakfast or lunch? Had he asked you anything at all? 

At the sound of footsteps entering the room, Cardan jumped to his feet. When it turned out to only be Jude, he flopped back into his seat. He propped his elbow on the table, pressed his cheek into his fist. 

“I didn’t realize my presence was so disappointing,” Jude said. Her eyes swept across the table, at the two place settings and the untouched food. The one thing that had moved was Cardan’s goblet, which had been refilled minutes earlier. “She didn’t come.”

Cardan gestured at the empty seat across from him. 

“Are you certain you asked her?” 

He nodded.

“And she said yes?”

Cardan began to say an exasperated yes, that he wasn’t an idiot, but as he replayed the events from the night before, he wasn’t so sure. “I asked her to breakfast,” he said, because he was certain of that. Jude arched a brow. “…and she told me to sleep well.”

Jude ran a hand over her face. “I knew you were hopeless, but I didn’t imagine you were a lost cause. Really, how did you manage to be with anyone?”

“I was a prince. They just fell into my lap.”

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t fae, because then I could believe that was a lie,” Jude said. She looked over at the empty seat. The seat that should have been filled by you. “I’m going to send the Ghost to see where she is. Perhaps she was too drunk last night to remember you invited her, or maybe her days are mixed up.”

Cardan frowned at the untouched food. “Maybe she realized she could do better than me.”

Jude reached for his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Cardan lifted his cheek from his fist and pressed it against her hand. If he shut his eyes, he could pretend it was you offering him comfort. “Whatever her reason, we’ll bring her here. We’ll figure things out.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her,” Cardan admitted. 

“We won’t let it come to that. I won’t let it come to that.”

An hour later, the Ghost returned. The words still echoed in his head. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. He had gone to your home and found it empty. Everything important to you had been packed and taken away. The Ghost lied to him, of course. Well, perhaps it wasn’t a lie, since the Ghost didn’t know its importance. But you left one thing behind. 

Cardan stood in your bedroom, staring at your vanity. It had been cleared of your favorite jewelry and other pretty things you adorned yourself with. It was empty, except for the ring that lay on its marble top.

Jude once told him, when he admitted your feelings for you, about how some humans would gift their beloved a ring as promise of their love. One ring as a promise of monogamy, another as a promise of marriage, and a final ring as a promise of eternal love. Cardan had taken great care in selecting a ring for you, bearing in mind your affinity toward certain metals and specific cuts of stone. He thought it was perfect. When he presented it to you, after he had been crowned High King, he told you he picked it especially for you. You smiled and slipped it on your finger, said it was perfect.

If it was so perfect, why did you leave it behind to collect dust? 

Cardan picked up the ring. A part of him wanted to fling it across the room. If you were rejecting his love, then that was the least the ring deserved. He wanted the stone to shatter and the metal to warp. He wanted to reduce it to dust. He offered you his love, and you left it, and him, behind. But Cardan couldn’t find it in him to throw you away. 

He slipped the ring onto his littlest finger. He was going to find you. He was going to find you, and drag you back to Elfhame and put that ring back on your finger where it belonged. You might have left him behind, but he wouldn’t let you stay away. 

By the time the sun set, he had given orders to bring you home. 

PART TWO | PART THREE

[cursedonyx]

How the HL Cast Act When They’re Drunk 🍻

Sebastian Sallow

This lad has three main modes when he’s had a few to drink, and it’s all entirely dependent on how he was feeling beforehand. He will either be the sweetest, cuddliest little snugglebug you’ve ever met, who hugs anyone and everyone regardless of how well he knows them and tells everyone he loves them (unless he’s in an established relationship, then his partner is the only one who receives such ardent affection), or he could be the life and soul of the party, challenging everyone to dares, games and other challenges, accepting pretty much all dares for a laugh, encouraging people to get up and dance and have fun, telling outrageous jokes and more… Or, he will be sullen, moody, and prone to fights. It’s best not to let Sebastian drink too much if he’s in a grump, because it won’t end well.

He's got a pretty good memory for his drunk antics and never gets blackout. This is useful for both making sure his friends are safe and for embarrassing everyone with tales of their conduct the next day, but it’s a double-edged sword, as he will remember everything he did as well.

Ominis Gaunt

A charming man at the best of times, drunk Ominis is a shameless flirt, and will make pretty much everyone fall in love with him at some point during the course of the evening, regardless of which way they swing. He’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders and tends to toe the line of tipsy and inebriated quite well, but if he pitches a bit too far and ends up sauced, his inhibitions are going to go right out the window. He’ll be the first to dance on a tabletop, he swears far more frequently and is prone to showing off a bit, though he still draws the line at public nudity, which is a shame. Chances are, if there’s a piano nearby, he’ll play for everyone with exceptional skill and, if the stars align, he’ll even sing, which is a rare treat for all involved. Mans got the voice of an angel. If he’s in an established relationship, he’s far more comfortable with PDAs and will be much more open to experimenting with his partner once they’re alone.

Though he rarely gets blackout drunk, Ominis can struggle to remember all the details of what he got up to if he has one too many, which without fail will leave him utterly mortified and swearing never to drink again, even if he had a good time. It’ll take a week or two before he’s ready to even have a glass of wine with dinner if he’s embarrassed himself.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is usually the one to bring his experimental brews to the party and he’s usually swiftly banned from wherever the drinks are being kept. Regardless, after a few bevvies he’s loud, boisterous, and usually found challenging Sebastian to various dares and competitions. A cheerful and popular chap, Garreth is likely to get people singing along to various songs he knows, or ones he’s made up on the spot. Whilst not as tall as Leander, Garreth is a big lad and quite strong too, so any of the girls present might find themselves picked up without warning and swung all about as he tries to dance, and one of his favourite memories of a previous party is trying to pick up all the girls at once and immediately falling over, ending up buried under a pile of laughing women. If Garreth is in an established relationship, very little changes, but you can be safe in the knowledge that even though he's flirting, that’s as far as it will ever go.

Garreth never gets hangovers, no matter how much he drinks, and he’ll be the first one awake the next day, helping to clean up or cook breakfast or make everyone a strong cup of tea.

Leander Prewett

Bless his heart, Leander tries very hard to fit in with his friends and as such will likely end up drinking too much too quickly, meaning he’s usually the first one to suffer the worst effects of drinking. That said, he handles it well, and after chundering once or twice he’s usually ready to keep going. Being a gangly lad, his sense of balance is terrible when he’s blotto, and he’ll trip on a bit of dense air if there’s nothing else to fall over. If the others manage to keep his drinking at a reasonable pace, Leander will often be found trying to flirt with everyone, and though he doesn’t have Ominis’ natural talent for it, he’s a surprisingly smooth talker when he’s not worried about being rejected, and he’s pretty much guaranteed to go home with someone at the end of the night. That is, if he’s single. If Leander is in an established relationship, he’ll follow his partner around, making sure they’re comfortable, warning off potential challenges to his territory, and he won’t even look at another girl.

Leander’s memory of the night before will be hazy at best, and though he knows full well he probably embarrassed himself, he’ll choose to believe he didn’t, so long as no one got hurt.

Amit Thakkar

Amit doesn’t drink much at all, but when he does and has one too many, he’s going to be talking at a mile a minute about whatever’s on his mind, whether that’s his memoirs, his gobbledegook, his stargazing, other people at the party, who he fancies, any gossip he’s overheard, and on and on and on and on. At some point during the night, he stops talking, sits down in the nearest seat, curls up and goes to sleep, no matter how noisy it is, and it’s pretty much like someone flipped a switch. You could be sitting on the sofa with him listening to him babble, then literally a second later he’s out for the count, and he probably won’t wake up for a good few hours, so move him somewhere where he won’t be trodden on. If Amit is in an established relationship, nothing changes about his drunk behaviour, because he’s endearingly loyal at the best of times.

Amit remembers well who he spoke to and what about, but rarely does he realise how much he gabbles on. He tends to take this with a reasonable degree of humility, but aside from hoping he didn’t bore anyone, he’s content that he didn’t embarrass himself.

Andrew Larson

He’s going to be mooning after everyone pretty the moment he gets trashed, and if Ominis is playing the piano, that lad better hope he’s got his girlfriend nearby because Andrew’s going to try his luck and be deeply disappointed by the inevitable rejection. Andrew lives by his emotions and will cry at the drop of a hat or a picture of a cat if he’s had enough to drink, but he will be laughing seconds later if someone falls over or tells him a joke. If the mood takes him, he’ll likely be having long, philosophical debates with anyone who’ll listen (most likely Amit) and he’s prone to wandering off at random moments because he saw something interesting and wants to go on an adventure. He needs a minder. If Andrew is in an established relationship he’s less likely to be a liability because his Alice in Wonderland moments are going to be focused entirely on his partner (and Ominis will remain unaccosted).

Andrew sways between having a good memory for his antics and remembering absolutely nada, sometimes in the same night. Parts of the evening will be clear as day, and parts will be obscured completely. He doesn’t tend to feel too embarrassed for himself, but more for others because it’s a guarantee someone else is going to have done something worse.

Natsai Onai

Even hammered, Natty is the mum friend. She’s the one making sure everyone drinks water in between their booze-infused bevvies, helping people up if they fall over, cleaning up puke and intervening in any brewing fights. Left to her own devices when no one needs her help, she’s sneakily encouraging Garreth to sing rude, memorable shanties, Poppy to climb the walls and jump on people, and Sebastian to run around the garden in the buff because if he doesn’t then Leander will. A master of planting ideas in drunk people’s heads, she usually makes sure things don’t go too far while masterminding entertainment for everyone involved. If Natty is in an established relationship, she’ll still be doing all of the above, but her partner needs to steer her more into the ‘having fun’ side of things so people don’t come to rely on her too much.

She’s got a reasonable memory for drunk happenings, but as she usually doesn’t embarrass herself, she’s pretty good to go the morning after. That said, if Natty does something embarrassing, she goes the whole hog, like the time she got stuck on the roof with only a tea towel for cover. That gets brought up a lot, and she wants to sink into the ground every time it does.

Poppy Sweeting

If you thought Poppy was a nutter beforehand, just wait until she’s got some beers in her. Poppy will be the first to try swinging from the chandelier, the first to encourage everyone to do shots, the first to run around the room with her shirt off, the real life and soul of the party. Once she’s drunk, she’s feral, and will climb over everyone and everything. Once she’s spent her boundless energy, she becomes incredibly cuddly, and if she chooses you to cuddle good luck getting her off you. Regardless of who you’re both respectively dating, you may find yourself going home with Poppy and her partner if the two of you aren’t together and she chooses you to snuggle. It’s not that she’s trying to get you in bed, she just loves cuddles and you smell safe.

She remembers nothing. Absolutely zilch once her blood alcohol level reaches a certain point. No embarrassment either, no matter what she did, she’s just happy everyone had fun.

Imelda Reyes

Competitive as ever, Imelda will likely be challenging people to drinking competitions (and usually Leander’s the only one to take her up on it, most people know better). Imelda has the blood of a Scot (and likely a Viking too) so she can outdrink almost everyone with relative ease. That said, once she’s drunk, she’s drunk. Swaying all over the place, her accent almost incomprehensible, and prone to getting into fights, Imelda is either the worst person to drink with, or the best. If she decides she’s looking after you that night, you’ll not have to worry about a thing, this girl would fight off a dragon for you. If you want to do something, whether it’s playing a certain game, talking to a certain someone, or just chilling outside for a bit, Imelda will make it happen. If you’re not the Chosen One, you can expect things to be very chaotic around Imelda when she gets cunted. If Imelda has a partner, her Chosen One will always be them.

Imelda’s memory is crystal, and no matter what she did, she feels no shame. Why would she? She was only looking out for her bestie or lover, and if someone got offended over that, well then that’s their problem. She’s not responsible for other people’s emotional reactions, after all.

Duncan Hobhouse

Will boast about being able to outdrink Imelda, then throw up and pass out after two butterbeers. Best to move him outside, because he’s going to shit his pants.

Masterlist

[immoralkombat]

feeling(s)

Kenshi has been blind for maybe an hour or two.

Johnny looks over at him with sympathy. He's not sure what he could possibly do or say to make things seem any less bleak for him. The man was just trying to get his family's heirloom back and now, after months of training and dedication, one of his five senses is gone permanently through no fault of his own. If Johnny were in Kenshi's position, he's sure he'd be feeling just as desolate, if not more so.

Kung Lao is sitting in the far corner, talking to Baraka. He seems genuinely fascinated by Tarkat as a disease. Were Johnny not in the same situation as them, he would find that particular conversation topic a bit morbid. Right now, it's really all they have to talk about. They've already exhausted all the small talk options you normally go through when first meeting someone. They might as well start talking about the disease that'll eventually kill Baraka.

The salve on the cloth seems to have worked a little, because at least Kenshi isn't moaning in pain every few seconds anymore. Not that it makes things significantly more cheerful, but it does help the atmosphere a bit.

Johnny taps on his knees as he sits, eyes darting between looking at Kung Lao and Kenshi. He's kind of in between where the two have sat themselves, a visual and metaphorical median between the two ways one could possibly react to getting imprisoned by a sorcerer that's almost 100% going to kill you. (To be fair, there isn't much that connects the points of "casually talking about a stranger's terminal illness with them as though you're both standing by the office water cooler talking about whatever hit TV show is airing these days" and "rocking back in forth in the corner about how a different terminally ill stranger took your eyes and you have nothing left in this world." Johnny supposes the best middle point is "looking anxiously between your two co-workers and not saying anything because Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you supposed to say in this situation besides aforementioned terminal illness.")

He really wishes that Kenshi still had his eyes, because every time he looked at Johnny, it always seemed to make everything feel okay.

Johnny thinks for a second and then scoots closer to Kenshi. It's only once he accidentally bumps up against Kenshi's foot and scares the living shit out of everyone in the cell that he realizes he probably should've given an audible cue that he was going to be approaching the newly blind guy.

After Kenshi's done having a mini panic attack over the sudden Hollywood A-lister jumpscare he's gotten, Johnny looks at him and asks, quietly, "Do you want to hold Sento for a bit?"

Kenshi turns to face him and even underneath the newly christened blindfold, Johnny can tell that Kenshi is looking at him with the most surprised and reverent eyes in the universe. The kind of look that you'd get and say "fuck this stupid sword, I'd pay $3 million just to get this guy to look at me like that again."

Kenshi's mouth opens as though he's going to say something, but it shuts again before any words or sounds can come out. He opts to nod in response and Johnny takes the scabbard from off his back, holds it in his hands gently and passes it to Kenshi. Their fingertips graze one another, a way to indicate that the blind man is in the right spot. The touch sends crackles of electricity through Johnny and he wonders if Kenshi feels them too.

It's like the tattoos on Kenshi's hands are swirling around him, colors dancing in front of his eyes. It's more beautiful than any lame fucking Disney movie ever could be.

The yakuza's voice is hoarse as he says "Thanks." It's so small that Johnny can almost see it breaking in the air. He wants to put his hand on Kenshi's and tell him that things will be okay, that he's going to pay for a sight companion, any kind of corrective surgeries he wants, whatever it takes. He wants to tell him that he's still just as strong and fierce and goddamn handsome now as he was before. He wants to kiss him so fucking badly it makes his entire being ache.

He settles for saying "You're welcome," and then sitting next to Kenshi in silence.

He watches the way that he holds Sento in his hands, feels every single nick in the scabbard, every single imperfection. It's the first time in Johnny's life that he's ever wanted to be a sword and, if he keeps hanging out with Kenshi after this, (which he hopes he can), it almost certainly won't be the last.

Johnny wishes that Mileena had taken Kenshi's tear ducts with her after she'd stabbed his eyes out, because the short sad sobs that wrack through his body are almost too much to bear witness to. When he cries, it moves through his entire being. It sends a shockwave from his gut upward, makes him lurch his shoulders forward and hug himself.

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" Johnny asks. He knows it's a stupid fucking question, obviously everyone knows what's wrong, most of all the guy it happened to. But it's all he can think to ask as he watches Kenshi continue to awkwardly jerk alongside his cries.

Kenshi's head turns to face Johnny. From beyond the thin red cloth that covers his eye sockets, Johnny can feel them boring into him.

"Cage, could I touch you? I want to remember what your face looks like."

If Johnny were operating on his full mental capacity, he would probably explode at this question. He would become the fireworks they popped last night at the banquet over their heads as they feasted. He would be attached to one end of a fuse with Li Mei holding the other end, readying herself to spark it and send him to the stratosphere.

"Y-Yeah, of course you can, Ken-doll. Just make sure not to damage the goods - people pay good money for this mug to show up on their big screens."

The smugness in his voice would normally earn him a "tch" or a groan, (or an eye roll), from Kenshi. Hearing him chuckle under his breath makes his heart soar.

He turns his face toward him and waits, but no touch comes. His eyes close, he anticipates the electricity to come back... and instead he hears Kenshi clearing his throat awkwardly.

Johnny opens his eyes and finds that Kenshi's still got his hands on Sento. He tries not to be jealous of the sword again, but as with any other time he's tried not to be jealous of someone or something that has what he wants, he fails miserably.

"Could you get closer, Cage?"

"Not the first time I'm hearing that question, won't be the last. How close you need me, handsome?"

The words come out before he can even process them. Jesus Christ, is he really that much of a disaster that he can just openly call a guy he's been crushing on for at least a month handsome without even thinking about it? He's a fucking mess. His wife left him and now he doesn't know how to act. She was gonna be the only person he'd ever be able to trick into loving him and now she was gone.

"I'm going to turn, and I suggest you do the same. I want to be facing you. You can sit with your legs touching mine if it helps."

Great, now Kenshi has a colorful blindfold that also serves as a perfect swatch for the shade of red Johnny's face turns every time the man says something that's totally fucking normal for two people that are acquainted with one another.

Johnny does as he's told, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's taking directions. (Ignoring literally every single major motion picture he's ever been in, every statement he's ever made to the press after consulting his legal teams and public consultants, and generally living life up until this point.)

His knees knock against Kenshi's and it takes him aback for a second, how giddy and childish the butterflies he feels in his stomach are. Getting to know Kenshi was so simple. He wishes he had just taken a second and been less of a dickwad back when they'd first met, because maybe then it'd be easier for him to grow a pair of cajones and tell Kenshi that he doesn't spend a single night without thinking about how much he wants to trace the tattoos on his hands and arms. Maybe if he had just given Sento over, it'd be easier to admit that the low rumble of Kenshi's voice does something to stir up the pool of heat in his stomach that he thought had been long since gone after getting married to Cristal. Maybe if he hadn't tied Kenshi to one of his kitchen chairs, it'd be easier to ask him if kissing washed-up celebrities was something he'd be interested in doing.

"I'll put my hand out, you lean forward to match it."

Kenshi's palm is extended and it takes every ounce of willpower in Johnny's aching body to not press his lips against it. He leans forward until his cheek is lightly touching the yakuza's hand.

He must be hearing things, because he swears he hears Kenshi's breath hitch when they make contact for the first time. Nah, surely not. Must've been the wind.

If Kenshi's senses are heightened because of the loss of his vision, then Johnny's senses are heightened because of the gain of his touch. He purses his lips together to stop from letting out some sort of obscene sound as he feels Kenshi's hand slowly smooth over his cheek. He thanks whatever fucked up Gods exist other than Liu Kang that he finally got on that moisturizing routine that he learned off of TikTok three months ago.

As Kenshi's hand slowly feels out every angle and curve of Johnny's face, his thoughts rush a mile a minute. He wonders if he should've done a closer shave today - maybe his stubble is gonna be too sharp and it'll hurt Kenshi and leave him with little cuts or rug burn on his pretty perfect wrap-around-my-throat-please hands. He wonders if his nose is too big. He wonders if he maybe should've invested in hair plugs after that one weird SNL dropout made a comment about his weird square hairline back when he guest starred on the Comedy Central roast of Megan Fox. He wonders if his eyes are too small or too large or too close together or too far apart. He wonders if he should smile so Kenshi can feel his dimples.

"Yep, it all feels just like how I remember it. Although the stubble has gotten a little longer."

That is certainly not the answer he was expecting to hear.

His voice is small, barely there, as he chokes out his question. "You remember what I look like?"

Kenshi nods. "I do."

Johnny goes to open his mouth to ask, "Then why did you ask to touch it if you already knew?"

But then Kenshi's fingers are on his lips, tracing them with the reverence he'd have holding Sento, and for a moment, Johnny finally thinks he's better than that stupid fucking sword. His smile has the same curves, the same edges. The only difference is that Kenshi can't accidentally hurt himself this way. (He can, however, accidentally hurt Johnny. But even that would be better than the alternative, he thinks.)

Kenshi's thumb is on his bottom lip, the rest of his hand now holding Johnny's chin. If he tilts it up even one degree, Johnny thinks it'll be over for him, that he'll be kissing Kenshi before he can even think to stop himself. He'd always had poor impulse control - why else would he have spent $3 million on a fucking sword to hang up in his living room?

"These are the same, too. I'm glad you weren't hurt in the fight, Cage."

Johnny feels so fucking overwhelmed. He wants to ask so many things. First of all, what does "these are the same, too" mean? Second, why does he care about the guy who bought his fucking family heirloom and refuses to give it back? Third, why does he insist on calling him Cage like one day he won't end up calling him Johnny and breaking his heart? Fourth, what in the goddamn fuck does he mean about Johnny's fucking lips being the goddamn motherfucking same?!

Johnny decides to play it up like he always does. "Well, 'course. Gotta keep my pretty mouth. It's what makes the big bucks. I wouldn't be the same without it."

Kenshi smirks, and thank Liu Kang's weird god siblings that he's blind right now, because Johnny is beet red, mouth agape, with his eyebrows raised (and he's fairly certain that something else also rises).

"That's true. You would not be the same without that infamous mouth." Kenshi accents the compliment(?) with a playful slap to Johnny's cheek, and then his hand is withdrawn entirely, leaving an empty ghost where he should still be holding Johnny's face in his hands.

He bites back the urge to immediately ask if Kenshi wants to know just how infamous the mouth is, and settles for clearing his throat and moving back to sitting against the wall next to Kenshi.

He looks over at him after he's gotten calmed down. His heart is still jackhammering against his ribs, but as long as Kenshi can't feel his pulse, he doesn't have to know. Kenshi seems to sense Johnny's eyes on him because he turns to face him, red blindfold all that stands between the gaping holes where Kenshi's eyes used to be and Johnny's gaze full of adoration.

The yakuza grabs Sento from his lap and hands it back to Johnny.

"Thank you. I appreciate you letting me hold it. And I appreciate your help in grounding me back to reality."

Johnny nods, taking Sento back and putting it where it so wrongfully deserves to be, strapped against Johnny's sore fucking back.

"No problem. Lemme know whenever you get the urge to feel out what an Adonis looks like, I'm happy to oblige." His comment is a means to an end. He plays up the egoism to ignore the shock that courses through him as Kenshi's fingertips touch his one last time.

He resolves then and there to give Sento back as soon as they escape from here, and they will escape.

This cannot be the last time he feels Kenshi's hands on him.

Baraka whispers, about as well as he can without lips or an inside voice, "Do they not realize how much they yearn for one another?"

Kung Lao shakes his head, putting a hand on Baraka's shoulder and immediately regretting it once he feels a spike tear into his palm. "They've just gotta be stupid about it for a bit longer. They'll figure it out."

"Surely their pining has to cause some sort of agony for you as well, does it not, Earthrealmer?" Baraka looks genuinely confused, or as close to it as he can get from what Kung Lao can tell.

Kung Lao hangs his head, sighing languidly. "Of course it does. But what else am I gonna do about it? Tell them? They're not gonna believe me. Trust me, they've got to figure it out on their own time, or they never will."

And as he sees Johnny's hand inch closer to Kenshi's, finally overlapping the tattoos and interlocking their fingers, Kung Lao thinks that maybe the agony won't last much longer.

[timetravellibrarian]

Sanji x reader

Some thoughts on Sanji.

Sanji x femreader

_________________________________________

What happens when a simp meets another simp.

Sanji's advances toward women were never really taken seriously or even paid attention to.

He mostly cooked and waited tables at the Baratie, occasionally kicking ass if needed to. One thing he wasn't expecting was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen – you– enter through the doors along with a green-haired man and another gorgeous orange-haired woman.

"Hello ladies, what would you like to order?"When he had smoothly delivered a pickup line to both you and Nami– much to Zoro's annoyance at not getting proper service– he expected the usual his advance ignored.

"Well, I'd order you but you aren't on the menu." You threw back. It wasn't intentional. You weren't that much of a flirt, only used to doing or saying something to challenge or fluster others occasionally.

When the waiter in front of you seemed to have frozen on the spot and then smirked you were left with two words on your mind 'oh shit'.

Fast forward to the same man being in your crew, serving you guys the most delectable meals and kicking ass you were ready to give up on having a peaceful life.

Though he sent all his simpery to Robin and Nami he left you out of the loop. At first you didn't mind but overtime you questioned his actions. Wondering if he didn't try to flirt with you because of the first time you met or maybe he didn't think you were beautiful. Then you looked in the mirror and realised it must have been some other reason cause you knew you were drop dead gorgeous.

You weren't being vain, you knew you were pretty because you were told so by Apis when the crew helped her with Grandpa Ryu. Kids never lie about such matters.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji didn't treat you the same because he knew that he wouldn't be able to save himself from loving you and confessing.

Your eyes, your voice, the grace in which you would do things. Even when you were being a menace to society. All of those he loved. You'd think he couldn't simp enough till he saw you not look glamorous and just chose to where baggy clothes. Not gonna lie he'd think you were gorgeous in a chicken costume, you never know with this man

As much as he was too shy to approach you he wasn't afraid yelling at Zoro to stop being so close to you.

You were close friends with Zoro. It couldn't be helped if you were the weapons expert, always checking if cannons were clear, swords were sharp and helping with new inventions with Franky.

So instead of noodle dancing around you he did the little things. Checking everything that he cooks didn't have anything you were allergic to. Always making sure you had a little lunch bag whenever everyone left to explore the island. Giving you extra cupcakes or other baked goods of you ever want more.

If you're a picky eater, he'd make sure to make your food according to your taste. Leaving multiple options on the dinner table for your palate.

He also made sure not to be away from your side too long. Wherever you turn you'd find a swirly-browed cook casually wrapping an arm round you to stave off any threats.

When you get sick he'd be calling in Chopper for any problem you would even slightly complain about. He'd be beside you 24/7 like you were dying or something. Which is kinda sweet but he was needed in the kitchen.

Overtime it just became normal for all this to happen. You got used to it. In fact I think y'all would be the kinda couple that just happened but then later confessed your undying love for each other.

To top it off, you were his number one supporter. Everytime you caught a glimpse of him fighting you'd cheer like you saw a celebrity. Some would swear that his behaviour rubbed off on you because you were also cheering and doing a noodle dance whenever he wore a different suit or set of clothes.

"YOU'RE DOING GREAT, SANJI-DARLING!" – 😍

But sometimes there were some downs in the relationship, for example his smoking.

You'd worry over him whenever he pulled out a cigarette one after the other in a day. Which led to you talking to him about it.

"If you don't atleast limit your smoking, you might as well be Black-lung Sanji."

He was a bit flabbergasted with the statement but he got what you meant.

Or if you had terrible coughs in reaction to his smoking he would try to smoke at a distance so he wouldn't and I quote, "Damage your gorgeous lungs"

As we all know Sanji, he didn't like women fighting too much or getting hurt but you immediately shut him down on that one, saying that as much as some of his morals were so gentlemanly and some old fashioned he had to accept that you wanted to fight. You wanted to help Luffy become king of the pirates. You wanted to be able reach your dream. So that needed you to be strong. That needed you to fight.

Since then he just aimed to be able to support you in any event that you needed help but he wouldn't be overbearing.

Would allow only you near the kitchen if you wanted to cook or bake something and you would allow only him near your forge/ workspace if he wanted to be near you.

Unfortunately for him you had connections wherever you went so you found out about his life in Peachy Island and never let him rest about it for a while.

And before anyone says anything about Fishman Island Sanji. Let's just say you were besties with Zoro there. Much to the cook's dismay.

"Stop being around that mosshead, Love."

"Stop losing blood around mermaids, Sweetheart."

Long story short, y'all were a confusing couple around that time. In fact, once he saw you were hanging out with the swordsman he would butt heads with the man. Leading you to pull him away before anything crazy happened.

Most times you told him to sit down and let you cook for the crew, especially if he was injured. He wouldn't allow it on account of Luffy's stomach being a literal black hole but you'd convince him otherwise.

When y'all fought together it was sure to leave the enemy in broken bones, hopes and dreams.

With Sanji kicking them away with his special moves and you pulling out a large cannon from the bag you carry around ( which was comically small but it was your magical inventory), nothing could stop you two. Sometime you'd trade opponents if he found himself fighting a woman.

Sometimes you helped him clean up after meals. Making sure that he didn't get all the work.

Most times he'd sit with you beneath the blanket of stars, his head on you chest/belly and you'd both share secrets about yourselves.

All in all, Sanji would love you to infinity and you'd love him just as much.

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Just for fun, I'm doing a "What if my ocs were in the Beast Ancients AU (by @cuppajj) ?"

Disclaimer: There will be slight mentions of oc x canon. There will also be mentions of death, but more so in a 'already passed on/ they're a ghost observing the world' kinda way. None of this information is canon to my nor cuppajj's au. This is just something I've been wanting to do because it's silly lmao.

Ok! Onto rambling!

Powdered Sugar Cookie (she/her)

The citadel has been deathly quiet ever since the fall of the beloved king. The spirits that used to roam the halls freely, possessing weapons not only to guard the walls from beyond the grave, but also to interact with the cookies that lived there, have since then disappeared. No longer could you see specters that sometimes danced around the empty walkways. They're gone. Perhaps this time, the cold was too much to bare, and they've returned to the spirit realm. This time for good. Sometimes though, if you're lucky, you may be able to catch a small glimpse of a spirit, but never anywhere near the rooms where the king currently stays in. Something about him drives them away...

Among these spirits is Powdered Sugar Cookie. She's one of the few that chose to remain and wander the frigid halls of the citadel. Rarely would she ever show herself, but sometimes, a lost child may find themselves following a golden butterfly that's guaranteed to lead them home. They say these butterflies are the blind spirit's companions, and it's said they're a good omen. One certainly hopes to encounter them, especially during these uncertain times.

Once news that Dark Choco and Strawberry Crepe have been wandering lost and uncertain with an... untrustworthy specter had reached her ears, she asked her spirit friends to follow them, and make sure they're alright. There's not much she could do as a ghost, but she will do anything to ensure the safety of the children. Especially when it comes to her own son and his companions...

Fire Flower Cookie (he/they)

A cookie who once thought was dead was freed from his enchanted prison, only to come face to face with a world laid to ruin in a new era of beasts and monsters. He was forced to run and flee as the village who just freed him from his prison was conquered by she who calls herself the dragon slayer. As soon as her eyes met his, he immediately bolted and fled into the woods. Her sinister grin implanted into his mind, as her orders echoed in his head, "Capture the phoenix! They'll make a great addition to my specimen collection!" Now he wanders the world alone, distrustful of anyone he encounters, even more so than before. But when fate sends them on a chance encounter with another group of survivors, they're forced to come to the conclusion that they need help if they want to live. But can he really trust them to not turn their backs on him?

Fire Flower Cookie and Dark Choco Cookie already have an awkward encounter in my au, so in this one, they straight up tried to attack each other, falsely assuming the other was an enemy. Eventually, they do work it out, and form a temporary truce if it meant they'll be safe.

Eventually, all of them grew fond of each other, and became a pretty solid group. Fire Flower catching a little crush on the ex prince.

However, it seems that they weren't fated to last, as at some point, the group had fallen into a trap, and Fire Flower had to sacrifice himself to save Choco and Crepe, falling into Dragonberry's capture and experimentation...

Berry Choco Cookie (he/him)

How long has he been gone..? Where is his body..? Is he..? Suddenly, he remembered everything. The celestial dragon that stole their magic... The sword he enchanted with forbidden Jam Magic... His brother... That blasted kirin... How dare that beast corrupt his brother and imprison him in his own weapon?! They shall pay. He'll bring their legacy to ruin! However, as he awoke to an unfamiliar world, he realized vengeance isn't going to be easy. Not when the kirin's descendant is literally a beast. No. Not now. It's still too dangerous. So for now, he'll watch from the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike. How tempting it is to take the body of the one who used his dark jam magic and finish it all. But not now... Patience is a virtue they say...

Vengeful spirit, Berry Choco, is- to put it lightly, very... unamused... by the current situation he finds himself in. There's not much he could do in this bodiless form. He doesn't know how long he's been trapped in that witches-foresaken sword. Speaking of which, the blade is nowhere to be found either. He was left wandering for so long, until he realized he can sense those that have used the dark magic he created. So he seeks out a host, and lo and behold; the prince of the kingdom he seeks to destroy.

How he almost immediately jumped to possess him, but stopped. Though blinded by pure rage, he isn't stupid. There were far too many uncertainties to account for. Not to mention, he had yet to formulate a plan of attack. So for now, he watched from the shadows. Observing.

Dark Choco can't shake the feeling of being watched, and even experiences dark nightmares and visions of a cookie he doesn't recognize.

The voices that once accompanied the sword sometimes sound louder than they usually were...

Berry Choco Cookie (he/him) and Cacaofruit Kirin Cookie (they/them)

Dark Cacao's late parents...

There's nothing they can do...