#wanda x oc

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Pose for Me - Wanda Maximoff x F!OC

warnings: au art teacher wanda, strangers to lovers, professor x student, FxF smut involving paint, 18+

word count: 7.6k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1337111732-pose-for-me-leonor

Masterlist

Leonor's wavy brown hair blew into her face as she looked up at the imposing building before her. A college art department shouldn't be at all intimidating, but her impending destination terrified her. She shook off the nerves, flexing her fingers around the strap of her bag before bouncing up the grey stone steps. 

Already a graduate student of the arts program, Leo had taken her fair share of lectures and workshops over the past five years. Still, a new class never failed to spark up old anxiety. Whenever she was forced to draw in front of anyone, much less a group or strangers, her body was tight like the canvas her brush loved so much. 

There was a murmuring as Leo walked to the classroom. Located at the end of the long hall, illuminated by the spring sun shining through massive glass windows, it was the perfect space for any artist. Edging through the group into the studio space, Leo searched for a spot to set up her equipment, one that had good enough lighting to see but far enough away where no one would bother her. 

One of the most interesting and popular professors on campus, Wanda Maximoff, was hosting a workshop on figure painting and from the sounds of her fellow attendees, everyone was eager to begin. Leonor had never taken a class with her, nor even laid eyes on the supposedly gorgeous artist herself. The thought set off a new wave of stress and she took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves.

At the back of the room, near the corner of one of the giant windows, a shaft of sunlight illuminated a square on the hardwood floor. It was almost too perfect. Collecting one of the easels and blank canvases that rested against the wall, Leonor headed to her spot and set up the easel at just the right angle. Another trip to collect a small table, stool, and water jar and then she was ready.

Leo tied a paint smeared canvas smock around her neck to protect the pretty dark teal shirt she wore. It fell delicately against the flat of her stomach and didn’t meet the hem of her pants, leaving her midriff exposed. She was glad too - the classroom seemed even hotter as the sun poured through the high windows. The class hummed quietly around her as she got situated. The sounds of clinking water jars, paintbrushes and wooden easels sliding across the floor silenced as a door behind her swung open. 

“Hello class,” her voice wafted around, trailing down in whispers between Leo’s shoulder blades leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Leo turned to see her enter the class behind her and swallowed tightly at the sight.

Professor Maximoff was nothing like Leo imagined, and she didn't necessarily mind if her racing heart was any indication. Soft golden waves fell around her mossy green eyes, an almost mischievous smile on her face. 

"The door says Professor Maximoff, but please call me Wanda," she continued, a slight accent making every word roll a little bit. 

Leo watched slightly open mouthed as she stepped onto a small stage in the center of the room and turned to face them, unbuttoning her blazer. 

"I'm excited to see so many familiar faces, but even more interested in the newer ones," she continued, eyes shifting across the room with a soft steely gaze, until finally landing on Leo in her hidden spot.

Leo’s breath hitched as her eyes flitted across her features, her lips upturning slightly as she studied her. Electricity jolted across her nerve endings, her nerves both igniting a foreign feeling along her body and screaming at her to look away from her. But the pull her eyes and soft plump lips had were much stronger than Leonor’s will.

Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight that poured into the room and Leo could see the hint of small freckles that peppered the soft skin of her face. She would have sworn that the professor could hear the pounding of her heart across the room based on the soft smirk that upturned the corners of her pouty lips. 

"The human body is a beautiful thing if you look at it the right way. Every curve, every spot, has a meaning meant to capture the soul inside," Wanda continued, drawing in a slow breath as she moved her eyes from Leo back to scanning the room, "in this classroom today, I want these pieces not only to capture the soul of our beautiful model, but it should be about your own style, your own heart. I want to see you on this canvas as well."

The warmth exuding from Wanda filled the room and Leo was convinced she was not the only one who felt it. The rest of the class stared at the professor as if caught in some sort of spell. With a crinkle of her nose and a clap of her hands Wanda spoke once more.

“I’d like to give thanks to our model.” 

A door at the very front of the class opened, one that Leo had assumed was a store room, and a man emerged wrapped in a short robe. 

“Class, this is Steve, who has very kindly agreed to sit for us today.”

Steve smiled and nodded as the class mumbled their hellos, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room, amidst the forest of easels.

Wanda walked around him, leaning closely she whispered something in his ear, her eyes flickering over his shoulder to where Leo watched. Both smiled, a soft friendly laughter tumbling from his boyish lips as he slipped from the robe and handed it to Wanda. Both Leo as well as half the classroom got an extended view of his toned backside as he settled onto the chair, bringing one foot up to rest on the rung of the stool.

"Nice ass Rogers," the handsome blue eyed college kid positioned beside Leo hollered, sending the class into a fit of hushed laughter. 

"Mr. Barnes, if you insist on harassing your boyfriend in my class I'll have to ask you to leave," Wanda turned to him, her eyes a darker shade as she tilted her head to the side in warning.

The blonde guy, Steve, winked over top of the professor's head and Leo couldn't help but snort, earning her a grin from his boyfriend as Wanda continued to give instructions to the class. 

"I can't draw a goddamn thing," the blue eyed boy leaned over the aisle to whisper. "Can't resist a good show, though." 

Leo's face flared up at his cheekiness, but she gave him a shy smile, opening her mouth to respond before a husky voice over her shoulder interrupted them. 

"James, I am fully aware why you are in my class," Wanda remarked with amusement. "But please refrain from spreading the distraction to your classmates." 

She stepped around in between them and gazed at Leo, who caught the professor's eyes drift over her frame quickly. 

James chuckled, picking up a brush which encouraged Leo to hurry to do the same. 

"That's fine, Maximoff," James grinned as he licked his lips, leaning forward over the canvas. "I don't think Stevie is the type for Dimples anyway." 

A perfectly arched brow raised in Leo's direction and the girl wished she could just evaporate then and there.

With eyes slightly wide in panic, Leo dipped her head and scrambled around on her small equipment table for the carmine red pencil she preferred for sketching out forms, her paintbrush still in her other hand.

Wanda continued to watch as Leo fixed her gaze on Steve, tilting her head slightly this way and that, before raising a slightly trembling hand and lightly drawing in the rectangles that would eventually become a person.

Wanda nodded her approval.  “Mmmm, good start…”

“Leonor, I mean, Leo. I’m Leo,” she stammered, feeling completely flustered.

A soft smile appeared on Wanda's lips as she nodded once, "great start, Leo" 

Her name rolled perfectly off the professor's tongue as she rounded the easel and started making her way around the classroom. Leo's hand continued the sketch work as her dark eyes followed Wanda's movements, unable to take her concentration back. 

Leo sketched and erased, moving around the boxes into different positions, settling on a mid-waist up portrait of a figure. She traced in the sharp curve of a jaw, rounded out the tip of the nose and finally spaces for the piercing eyes that were now stuck in her head. 

Satisfied with her sketches, she picked up a small brush and dipped it into the water, moving to mix a bit of red with yellow and white to make the resemblance of a skin tone. As she worked, the rest of the murmurs and business of the classroom seemed to fade into the background, the only thing playing in her head was the sound of Wanda instructing another student a few feet away.

The sun pressed down on her brow line and neck, tiny droplets of sweat beading against her skin and trickling down beneath the fabric of her shirt. She slowly pulled her brush in long, smooth curving motions, tracing the gentle lines with color. 

"It's beautiful," Wanda stood behind her. She had snuck up on Leo and her breath fanned over her hot skin making her nerves tickle. Her hand came up, fingers dipping against the curtain of Leo's hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. "But you seem to have missed the lesson, Leo." 

"I-" she opened her mouth, her focus pulling from the way Wanda's fingers felt against her neck, lingering there driving her nuts and looked at the painting before her. 

The sultry, smooth image of Wanda Maximoff stared back at her. Leo chewed down on her lip short of breaking the skin and whined under her breath.

Her gaze fell to her hands as she picked at the paint drying up on her fingers, heat pooling at her cheeks in embarrassment. 

She was unsure of how to turn back to apologize to her professor, hell she wasn’t even sure how she ended up painting a portrait of her. Her hands just seemed to work on the only thing that hadn’t disappeared from the room in her mind. 

The feel of a soft, warm finger curling under her chin broke her away from her thoughts as Wanda lifted her chin up to look at her. 

“Where’d you go there, Leonor?” she purred, “I’m quite flattered that I served of some inspiration. I did say it should be your own heart that showed through your work today.” She finished, her eyes sparkling as a tender smile graced her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…well I…oh hell,” Leo stammered.

She bowed her head and bit her lip but somehow found the courage to continue. Raising her head again she looked Wanda straight in the eye. 

“The heart wants what it wants,” she said. “Sometimes we have no other choice but to listen.”

Wanda’s smile widened and the corners of her eyes crinkled delightfully as she let out a hum of satisfaction.

“Don’t rush off,” she said with a wink before turning back to the class.

As the professor wandered off, Leo let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and turned back to the canvas as she decided what to do. She'd gone too far into her work to turn back now, if she was going to get scolded after class, she might as well finish what she started. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was some cheesy pick up line you just gave the ol' prof there," the blue eyed boy quipped from beside her with a smirk, as he smeared different colours onto his canvas. 

Leo cleared her throat, and tried to hide the blush that crept up her neck, as she worked to mix up the perfect green to match Wanda's eyes, "I don't know what your talking about," her eyes drifted over to the boys painting and a giggled bubbled from her chest, "what is that?" 

"Abstract," James shrugged, splattering a royal blue into the middle of a tan circle.

Leo laughed and clapped a hand over mouth when it was a little louder than she intended. She rolled her eyes as she felt a smear of paint across her cheek from the paintbrush still in her hand. She shrugged and left it, looking up only to get caught in Wanda’s gaze. 

Wanda was staring at her from across the room, a slightly calculating grin on her face. Leo shivered as her professor began speaking, continuing the lesson.

She spent the rest of the morning sweating in the hot sun as she finished her painting. She had subconsciously strayed far from the lesson and found herself mixing the perfect shade of green. She filled in the rough sketches, heat burning through her knowing that her professor would see them. 

As the green flooded the page, it brought to life the painting of her demanding, lustful eyes and a naughty sense of pride licked at Leo's skin. 

"I will see you all back here on Tuesday," Wanda's honey voice echoed through the class and Leo finally looked up as everyone started to pack their things and leave. 

She pushed the tip of her paintbrush between her teeth, her eyes flickering over Steve slipping back into his robe and back toward where the professor spoke to another student. She cleaned her brushes in the sink, mindlessly watching as the green swirled around down the drain. 

"Interesting," Wanda said from behind her, a hand tucked under her elbow as she brushed her bottom lip in thought with the other. "I'd like to see you privately," Wanda said, "do you have time later today?"

"I have class until nine thirty tonight," Leo left the paintbrushes in the sink and untied the apron from her neck, laying it over the stool as she came closer. "Is that too late?" She asked, nervous for what the privacy may entail. 

"No," Wanda finally tore her eyes from the painting and raked them over Leo, "that's perfect."  Wanda walked toward the back door, "leave that," she pointed to the painting of herself, her eyes dancing between Leo and the work she had created.

There had always been something about the campus at night that felt like magic to Leo. The quiet halls, echoing laughs and the feeling that maybe she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

As she journeyed through the art department now, a little past nine, that feeling was amped up to a hundred. The nervous flutter in her stomach doubling as she neared the classroom her professor was waiting in. 

Warm light flooded the otherwise dark hallway from the pane of glass in the door, a singular shadow cast as Wanda moved inside. 

“You won’t know unless you go in there,” Leo muttered to herself, thankful for the empty hall as she fixed her hair in the darkened reflection of an empty classroom window. 

With a deep breath she forged on, stopping abruptly outside, and knocked before she could change her mind.

It took a moment, longer than Leo’s nerves would have liked, but the door finally opened.  Leo swallowed thickly at the sight of Wanda, who had changed into long flowing trousers in soft pink, a white silken tank top, and her golden locks were now secured into a messy topknot with what looked to be a paintbrush.  This was more like the art professor Leo had expected to see this morning.

“Leo, thank you for returning. Please, won’t you come in?” Wanda smiled softly and opened the door a little wider giving Leo just enough room to squeeze past.

Leo had no choice but to brush up against Wanda as she sidled into the classroom and the heady scent of her perfume wrapped around Leo like a blanket.  She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted over Wanda’s figure and she groaned internally, or so she hoped, when she realised that the professor wasn’t wearing a bra.

As she tried to catch her breath, Leo turned her back to the professor and walked further into the classroom, closing her eyes for just a moment to centre herself. The electricity running through her nerves was almost too much and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

"Okay, before you say anything, I'm sorry again for not drawing the model as instructed, I don't know what happened, I just -" Leo's words were cut off by the playful smirk that danced onto Wanda's lips as she lifted her head, hushing Leo's stammering in the process. 

"That's not why I asked you to come back, Leo," Wanda cooed, taking a few steps towards her and helping her slide the backpack off her shoulder, dropping it to the floor, "and do not apologize to me again or we'll have to find something to do about it," she spoke in an almost warning way, the smile dropping from her face. 

It felt as though Leo's heart had stopped all together, feeling the heat under her skin as Wanda's fingers brushed her bare arm while taking her bag off. This was not what she had been expecting. 

"I just wanted to give you some one on one time, to go over your technique and pass on some pointers," the corners of her lips upturning once more, as she backed away and walked towards Leo's canvas where her painting still sat.

Leo’s heart tripped, watching her professor float away, coming to a stop behind the stool placed at the easel. 

“Come, Leo,” Wanda ordered softly, gesturing with two fingers. Leo did everything she could to keep her mouth from dropping open as she walked forwards, stumbling over her backpack. She righted herself, a flush high on her cheeks and carefully sat down on the stool. 

She was achingly aware of Wanda behind her, inhaling deeply when her hand came to hover behind her back, just making her shirt graze her skin. 

“I was curious about how you chose to mix your colors, you used more color than most would attempt, yet you achieved a wonderful outcome- look here,” Wanda said, leaning forwards, her chest pressing against Leo’s shoulder as she stretched her arm out, gesturing to the painting.

Leo sucked in a breath through her teeth, resisting the urge to lean into her and inhale her pretty floral perfume. It made her head dizzy as Wanda spoke in the background of her thoughts. 

“Every stroke has purpose, like you’re telling a story in the curves and slopes.” Her voice came through in bursts as Leo admired the flecks of golden in Wanda’s eyes. 

“Are you well?” Wanda’s hand brushed her cheek bringing her back to the present, “you feel warm.”

“I’m okay,” Leo said, fighting the feeling of languid bliss that settled over her from the soft skin of Wanda’s hand. “Was there anything else?” She asked, tearing her gaze away and looking back to the painting. “That you wanted to teach me?” Leo swallowed tightly.

“Well, I suppose that depends on whether you feel like you have more to learn,” Wanda replied softly, “and even then, I can only teach you so much.”

Wanda’s lips twitched, a soft tug of her pink lips that had Leo floundering, her gaze locked on Wanda’s mouth. 

“Well I— I don’t really have much experience with life models. It’s why I took your class but—“ 

“It’s not about experience, Leo. It’s about appreciation. Seeing art in a body and interpreting it with paint is one thing, appreciating the way we’re formed and bringing it to life on the page, well…” 

Wanda’s gaze drifted to the canvas, to her own body and Leo felt her cheeks warm. Her skin prickled as Wanda’s fingers slid along her forearm, wrapping delicately at her wrist as she guided Leo from the stool. 

“Follow me, I have an exercise you might enjoy.”

Leo tried to shake away the tainted thoughts running through her mind as they made their way towards the center of the room. The small distance seeming like it was a thousand miles away as she felt her pulse grow quicker, certain that her professor could feel the quickened pace against her fingers.

A big white canvas sheet was draped across the center stage. Wanda stopped them just short of stepping onto it, turning towards her as she let go of her hand. 

"Sometimes, we need to be in order to fully understand how to best capture the essence of what you're trying to portray through your work," she smiled as her eyes danced along Leo's figure, "if you feel comfortable doing so, Leonor, I would like you to be art for a moment, pose for me."

For just a moment, she thought she might pass out from the fire that ignited throughout her. Surely that part of the statement was just in her imagination. Her breath was caught as she looked up to meet Wanda's sultry green eyes, "W-what?" Leo stammered. 

The soft smirk remained on the professor's lips as she tilted her head and raised her eyebrow, "We've spent so much time talking about how this is about the appreciation of the human form, and what better way to teach that to you than to... appreciate what's right in front of me, if that's okay with you."

Leo nodded slowly at her words, and turned to step up onto the canvas but was stopped as Wanda's finger hooked into the belt loop of her light jeans, her thumb grazing the sliver of her belly between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt. 

"Leo," her name rolled out of Wanda's lips so perfectly, "You are covered in far too much fabric to step onto that stage," the corners of her mouth pulled up, "besides, we wouldn't want to get your beautiful outfit all covered in paint, now would we?"

Leo gulped audibly, swallowing hard as she shook her head, lifting slightly shaking hands to her jeans button. She slid it free, pulling down the zipper too, then bit her lip as she nodded to her professor. 

Wanda smiled, eyes fixed on Leo’s lower lip before meeting her eyes as she slid her hands into Leo’s jeans, pushing them down from the inside. She bent down fluidly as she did, ending up half squatting half kneeling at Leo’s feet. 

Wanda carefully helped her step out of her jeans, sliding her hands back up Leo’s thighs, ghosting over the lace of her panties before smoothing up her sides, helping her to lift her arms and take her shirt off easily. She dropped it to the floor on top of her jeans, holding a hand out for Leo to take and step up onto the stage.

She helped Leo lower to the canvas on the floor, moving slowly Wanda took her time positioning each arm. Running her fingers down her skin as she went before moving to her legs. Wanda’s hand skimmed the underside of her calf, lifting her leg and bending her knee. She was laying on her back with one leg bend, her foot planted on the canvas and the other extended fully. 

“Softer than I imagined,” Wanda cooed as she ran her palm across Leo’s taught stomach. Her fingers dancing dangerously against the lacy fabric of her underwear. She moved higher, tucking one of Leo’s hands behind her head, and fixing her hair before standing back. 

“Not quite, my favourite art is the expression of self love. Touch is so important,” the soft words dripped from the professors pouty bottom lip as she knelt again, moving Leo’s other hand to tuck into the strap of her bra against her skin. 

Wanda tugged a paintbrush from her hair, long golden locks poured down around her sharp face and bounced against her shoulders. Leo fought to control the whine that threatened to escape her lips as she watched her through thick, hazy lashes. 

“A little lower,” Wanda pointed a brush to the hand tucked between her strap, lighting reflecting in her green eyes playfully as Leo listened. “Good girl,” she smirked as Leo’s hand dipped into the lace and palmed herself. “Perfect, don’t move, do you understand?” She asked and Leo gave her a soft nod.

Leo closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, listening to the sounds of Wanda flitting about the room. She heard her come closer humming a soft tune to herself as she placed what sounded like paint bottles down on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in Leo's stomach at the feeling of Wanda's warmth beside her once more. 

"Are you feeling alright, Leo?" Wanda asked, as she unscrewed the bottles. Leo nodded as her eyes fluttered open and drifted towards her voice. She saw her smile out of the corner of her eye before she spoke, "I need to hear you say it, Leonor."

“Yes, I’m alright, I’m good,” she breathed, nodding again.

“Darling I’m going to have to ask you to stay still.  If you keep nodding your head like that you’re going to spoil the beautiful lines your hair is making on the canvas, and we can’t have that now, can we?” Wanda purred, squeezing some paint into trays.

Leo began to shake her head but then paused and whispered “no, sorry.”

“Perfect, you’re just perfect for me,” Wanda smiled, encouraging and sweet, but there was a inferno burning behind her eyes that caressed Leo’s form with a scalding intensity.

Every breath that Leo took trembled more than the last with the anticipation of what she hoped was to come.

Her mind was foggy and full of every thought and emotion as they bubbled to the surface through each word that dripped from her professor's lips. Of all of the ways Leonor had thought this meeting was going to go, this had definitely not entered her mind. At least not that she was going to let on. The fact that Wanda's piercing green stare had been ingrained in her mind with her rolling cooed voice all day was something she was trying to keep in her own thoughts, but with every movement Wanda made, it made it harder and harder to contain herself. 

"Close your eyes for me, Leo," Wanda leaned over her and whispered, fingers brushing delicately at a piece of hair that had fallen against her bare collarbone. 

Leo followed the command, fluttering her eyes closed as she drew in another breath. 

"Good," Wanda cooed, "Now remember what I said earlier, about every curve having a meaning that needs to be captured.. As we go through this exercise, I want you to feel that, okay? Allow every feeling and emotion to surface..." her voice quieted and Leo felt the trailings of a wet paint brush tracing along the canvas from her ribs to her hips.

“I- Ohhh,” Leo trailed off in a hushed gasp as Wanda guided the brush in a swirl on her calf, the paint cool and creamy, gliding along effortlessly. 

“Very important now, Leonor, do you want to continue the lesson?” Wanda asked smoothly, meeting Leo’s heavy gaze when she blinked her eyes open. 

“Yes Professor,” she said breathily, exhaling shakily as Wanda continued the trail of her paintbrush up Leo’s thigh all the way to her panties before stopping. 

She couldn’t hold back a whine now, slipping through her lips and making Wanda’s eyes darken. 

“Good, that’s exactly right Leo, feel everything.”

The cold wet paint dripped down, leaving a damp trail over her skin and pooling beneath her ass between the canvas. She inhaled another shaky breath as Wanda dragged that same line up across her stomach. "List your emotions," Wanda's voice was warm and it settled over her like a blanket.

"Nervous," Leo's bottom lip trembled. 

Wanda dipped the brush into more paint but this time she dropped a few drops in her palm and rubbed it between her fingers as she watched Leonor struggle with her words.

"Excited," she breathed out.

Wanda smiled, running her tongue along her teeth and used two of her painted fingers to draw a line slowly down Leo's throat. The feeling of her hands, cold and careful, running down her skin while Wanda hovered so close to her lips caused her body to clench and her hips to lift from the canvas. Wanda's eyes flicked down at the movement and then back to Leo's with a scolding scowl to her perfectly pouted lips. 

"Sorry Professor," Leo apologized, but the words came out a teasing whine.

Wanda continued her journey with her fingers, lower across her décolletage — a cool sharpness over the prickly heat of her skin. 

Lower still, Wanda travelled. Between the valley of Leo’s breasts, paint dripping dangerously close the the black lace of her bra. 

“Do you mind?” Wanda questioned, her green eyes darkened, shadowed and hazy like the deepest forests. 

Leo shook her head, voice lost to the want. The want to please Wanda, to feel her paint slicked fingers anywhere she desired. 

She arched from the canvas as her professor worked the clasp of her bra open, cool air pebbling her nipples as soon as they were freed. 

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda purred, and Leo whined, her lip between her teeth as the other woman soaked up the sight before her. 

Wanda brought a hand to Leo's bent leg, lowering it further onto the canvas slowly spreading her legs open as she settled herself on her knees between them. 

She smiled down at Leo as she leaned forward wrapping her fingers around her wrists and pushing her hands above her head. Wanda's chest rose and fell against Leo's and she relished in the feel of her clothed breasts brushing against hers, letting her eyes fall closed. 

The tip of Wanda's nose brushed against hers, hot breath fanning against her lips as her professor's hands began trailing back down her arms. 

"Open your eyes for me Leo," she whispered lips just missing hers as they moved, "I want you to watch me appreciating your body."

Barely missing the paint marking the column of her throat, Wanda ghosted her lips over Leo’s skin, her breath raising goosebumps despite its warmth. Reaching Leo’s right breast, Wanda paused, rolling her eyes up to take in the expression of desire on Leo’s face as her eyelids fluttered with anticipation.

Leo whined once more, which turned into a gasp as Wanda traced around her areola with just the very top of her tongue, gently teasing, with hardly any pressure at all.  The circles became smaller, tighter, until Wanda’s tongue was circling Leo’s pebbled nipple but not touching. Leo ached for more and almost bucked up from the canvas once more but managed to contain herself.

Wanda chuckled huskily at the feel of Leo trembling beneath her.

“Well done.” She whispered, taking Leo’s nipple into the warmth of her mouth and sucking gently.

Leo's tongue swiped her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth to stifle a moan. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire, the coolness of the wet paint only making it worse. Wanda's lips continued trailing down her stomach, followed closely by the wet paintbrush, soft green marks appearing on every curve and ridge that her torso held. 

"Tell me what you want, Leo," Wanda murmured into her skin as her lips skated across the hem of her lace panties, "right now, in this moment, what do you crave?" 

The paint brush moved to dance around her inner thigh, Wanda's hot breath dangerously close to her centre. Leo felt like her brain was malfunctioning and she whined in response, craving the touch of her beautiful art professor. 

"You," she finally rasped, "I want you, Professor"

Wanda smiled, a twisted playful smile that drove Leo to insanity. She tucked her fingers into a pot of blue paint. Pressing it against the palms of her hands before dipping into the band of the lacy underwear that Leonor wore. 

As she removed them from her hips she left long, soft strands of blue down her thighs and calves. Wanda sat back on her knees, admiring her work before coming back, pressing at Leo’s stomach and dipping her head between her legs. 

Blue finger prints maimed her olive skin as Wanda’s tongue swiped between her drenched folds. Leo bucked from the sudden, sweet sensation and Wanda pushed her back down as she worked relentlessly at her clit.

Encouraged by the moans and whimpers that Leo could no longer control, Wanda ran her tongue lower, deeper, laving along Leo’s slick pussy. Leo tightened her thighs against Wanda’s head, she couldn’t help it, but Wanda gently pushed them apart again, leaving two very obvious blue handprints behind, the most intimate of picture frames.

Leo cried out as she felt Wanda’s tongue stiffen and then push into her aching cunt, fucking her slowly but relentlessly, allowing the pressure to build until finally, as if she could read Leo’s mind, she swept her tongue back up to her clit wrapping her lips around it and and sucking hard as Leo came undone in a glorious moan of pleasure.

Wanda continued working her through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet sounds that filled the classroom. Leo's mind was dizzy with pleasure as she came down from her high, but she knew deep within herself that they were not even close to being done. 

"Wanda," Leo breathed, confidence rising as she reached down and cupped her professor's cheek, pulling her face up to look at her, "please, please let me show you how fast of a learner I am" 

A deep chuckle left Wanda's chest as she sat back slowly and peeled off her white tank top, doing her best not to get any more paint on it then necessary. Leo sat up on her elbows and watched the site before her, drinking in every inch of Wanda's now exposed breasts as she tried to catch her breath. 

When Wanda stood to remove her trousers, Leo scrambled onto her knees in front of her lightly grasping her hands, "let me... please" She whispered, looking up at the blonde through heavy lashes. With a soft nod of approval, Leo hooked her fingers into Wanda's pants and the hem of her underwear, pulling them down together.

From her knees Leonor was given the most wonderous view. Her hands raked around and up Wanda's smooth, strong calves and over the swell of her ass. She kissed her mouth over every inch of skin, licking and nibbling at the fleshy inners of her thighs as she reached Wanda's core. Leo's eyes flickered up as Wanda practically dripped down her hand. 

"So wet already," Leo purred against her skin. 

Wanda raked her paint fingers across her jaw and around her throat lifting Leo's chin to really look at her, "I've been waiting all day," she brushed a thumb over Leo's bottom lip, "walking around soaked just thinking about you." 

The confession drove Leo nuts, dipping between her thighs without another word and lapping the sweet taste of Wanda onto her tongue as she lifted her knee and hooked it over her shoulder. She pressed her fingers deeper into her skin, dragging a sweet moan from Wanda's red lips as she supported her weight and ate her out without remorse.

Leonor began circling her clit slowly with the tip of her tongue, almost teasing her seeing just how far she could push her professor. Wanda moaned in protest and dug her fingers into Leonor’s hair, lacing her fingers in between her soft brown locks and pulled her head slightly back green rimmed blown out pupils staring down at as her chest heaved. 

Leo looked up at her through her lashes and smiled innocently, “is everything alright, professor?” 

Wanda raised a brow and tugged a bit tighter on her hair causing Leo to gasp in pleasure, “don’t be a tease Leonor, don’t make me punish you.” 

She felt herself grow wetter at the thought of what more Wanda could do to her. Leo bit her lip and ran a finger through her wet folds, teasing her entrance as she moved her face forward once again, “May I?”

Upon seeing the brisk nod, Leo attached her lips once more to Wanda’s clit, laving it gently with her tongue as she slipped her finger up inside her.  The whine that spilled from Wanda’s lips only served to encourage Leo and she quickly added a second finger, moving them in the same rhythm as her tongue.

She knew when she had found the right spot inside when Wanda’s grip tightened on her hair and she began to buck her hips against Leo’s mouth, pushing her closer towards her dripping cunt.

“Yes, there, right there,” Wanda gasped as Leo tried to keep pace with her undulating hips.

Wanda keened above her when Leo slipped a third finger into her and the walls of her pussy began to clench.  Leo worked Wanda’s clit as she pumped her fingers in and out, almost having to fight against the grip Wanda had on her head but then the professor stiffened and Leo felt a rush of slick run down her chin as Wanda reached her climax.

Leo worked the professor through her climax, lapping up every ounce of slick she could. She moved her lips to pepper small soft kisses on each hip bone, trailing them up her body as she stood. Making sure to nip at the skin of her breasts and ghost her lips up Wanda's throat, she finally came to a stand nipping at the blonde's ear lobe. 

Placing her hands gently on her hips, Leo guided Wanda, turning her towards the canvas, "lay down... please" she added to not sound like she was commanding her, "I don't think our lesson is quite through," Leo teased. 

Wanda hummed, and brushed her hands into the brunette's hair, trailing her fingers over her collarbone and down her bare arms, "Well I certainly hope not," 

With Leo's help, Wanda settled down on the canvas and allowed Leonor to position her on her back, both arms stretched above her head, with both knees bent and her back slightly arched off the canvas. The brunette stood over her professor, taking in the sight before her and feeling the fire reignite in her belly as she sank to her knees beside her, digging her finger into the red paint and tracing a line up from Wanda's hips to the crevasse between her breasts.

Leo lifted her finger from her chest, a soft whine in protest slipping from Wanda’s lips. With her free hand, she picked up some more paint and spread it around in her palms. With both hands covered in red paint she swung a leg across Wanda’s body, holding on to her waist as she settled atop her lap. She smiled down at her as she cupped her breast tenderly, dipping her head and nuzzling into the curve of her neck. 

Wanda moaned as she began leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of her neck as she palmed at her breasts. The feel of her professor wiggling and moaning under her only egging her on to kiss down to her collarbone. 

Her professor’s hands came down from above her head to cup her face pulling Leonor upwards, the tips of her noses almost touching. Leonor’s breath hitched in her throat at the soft brushing of her thumb on her cheek as her green eyes looked back at her. Just as she was about to ask her if she had done something wrong, Wanda tilted her chin upwards barely touching her lips to hers. 

“Kiss me Leonor, please.” She breathed, “Let me taste myself on your tongue.”

With a small sigh Leo leaned forwards and closed the gap between them, her eyes rolling back in her head at the soft feel of Wanda’s lips finally pressing against hers.  She opened her mouth slightly, allowing the softest brush of Wanda’s tongue to swipe along her bottom lip but it was Wanda who was the impatient one, pulling Leo’s lip into her mouth and nipping it gently.

The kiss was intoxicating, the taste a heady cocktail of their combined essences with the tiniest hint of paint.  Wanda’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled slightly, the tiny pinpricks of pain only adding to the almost overwhelming sensations. Leo smiled into the kiss not even noticing when her thumb smeared a streak of red paint across Wanda’s cheekbone.

They're mouths continued to move against one another, dancing with their tongues and taking in every inch of each other that they could. The red paint from Wanda's breast, transferring and smearing onto Leonor's as the red and blue mixed on their bodies. 

A soft red handprint found its way onto the side of Wanda's neck, and another planted firmly beside her head as Leo attempted to hold herself up. Her nerves igniting once more as she felt Wanda's hips buck up into her, grazing her sensitive bud and pulling a teasing moan that was swallowed by her lips. 

With one swift movement, Wanda wrapped her arms around Leo and rolled them so she was back on top, rubbing her knee between Leo's legs again, "This is my classroom remember?" She breathed, kissing her once more, and pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth, "I'm in charge"

Leo hummed and ran red paint up Wanda's back, "yes, Professor"

Wanda pressed kisses up and down Leo’s neck, paint smearing against her lips, drawing it down and across her chest, sucking her nipple into her mouth. Her delicate fingers stroked her other breast, massaging it and making moans fall from Leo’s mouth. 

“Please, Wanda, more,” she begged, and Wanda grinned around her tit, tweaking her nipple as she bit down lightly. She pressed her thigh up against Leo’s cunt, wet and slick, sliding against her.

Wanda obliged, ducking her hand between them. Her fingers curled painfully deep into Leo’s wet pussy using the weight of her thigh to fuck Leonor senseless. 

Her head lulled as the moan ripped from her throat and Wanda sucked at her sensitive nipple. “Sing for me,” she cooed, rubbing her clit with her thumb as her fingers scraped against the roof of her cunt. 

“Don’t stop,” Leo begged, and she would continue to do so.

Wanda smiled against Leonor’s chest trailing kisses along her sternum as she pushed her fingers deeper into her center. A string of pleas slipped from Leo’s lips like a song as she continued to work her clit with her thumb. She brought her free hand up, resting it on her throat brushing her lips along the curve of Leo’s jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful when you beg, Leonor.” She purred.

Her sounds echoed out into the studio and she could feel Wanda's smile on her skin. The red and blue paint had smeared between them creating a deep purple, the canvas no longer resembling the outline of Leo's body but looking more like an explosion of colour created by passion and heat. It didn't matter who was left in the school, or what tomorrow would bring. What mattered in Leo's mind, the only thing that was left there, was the beautiful blonde who lay on top of her, bringing out more pleasure than she'd ever felt before. 

"One more, Leo sweetheart," Wanda cooed, dragging her tongue up the side of Leonor's neck and flicking her ear lobe, "I've got you" 

Leo's vision went white as the fire in her belly let go once more, a strike of electricity shooting up her spine as her pleasure overtook every one of her senses. Wanda's name dripped from her lips as a whiney, needy growl that she couldn't control and the vibration of Wanda’s chuckle against her brought her back down from her high.

Leo took a breath, chest heaving slightly as she slowly came down, head spinning. She met Wanda’s green eyes, a smile shining in them as bright as the grin on her face. 

“You did so wonderfully my sweet, I’m so impressed, look at this beautiful work you’ve helped to create. Here, let’s take a look,” Wanda said as she stood fluidly, hands out for Leo to take. 

She did and they stepped back, gazing at the canvas, smeared with paint. The colors mixed and swirled to create a beautiful whorl of a painting.

Leo looked over at Wanda, kissing her paint smeared shoulder, “it’s beautiful,” she turned her head back to the art. 

“You know,” Wanda chuckled, “it would sell for a fortune if they knew how it was made.”

“We can always make more,” Leo teased. 

“Is that an invitation Leonor?” Wanda turned snaking her hand into her hair and tugging her close for a kiss that stole the air from Leo’s lungs. 

“Perhaps it was a challenge,” Wanda teased when Leo said nothing more, pulling away with the click of her teeth. 

Together they hung it dry, and Wanda helped her slip into a pair of paint stained sweats. “I’d like to take you home Leo,” she smiled, helping her tuck her paint stained hair up into a loose ponytail. “We both earned a shower,” she kissed her nose and jaw. 

“Is the shower just a shower?” Leo collected her things and followed Wanda to the door. 

She shut off the light to the studio and turned to Leo with a playful look in her eye. “A shower is never just a shower,” she hummed, linking their hands together.

[oksana-moods]

Queen of Promise - Part 10

Summary: The hell you were put through seems endless. 

A/N: To those who are still around: you are lovely. Please, make yourselves known, it’ll give some confidence and will certainly help with this detachment I’ve been feeling with writing. 

You’ll gona ask, what about part 11. I know. Well, I don’t know when we’ll see it, I’ll try to work on something the next few days, but as I said to that anon, I’m going through some work stuff and it’s draining a lot. Let’s hope for the best. 

Warning: Angst, blood, gore, torture?, mentions of death.

Previous Parts here

"Hopeless and taken"

There was something funny about the dark. How your eyes adjust to the environment to the point that first, you are able to discern things, later you can properly see things in the dark. And then, then you start to imagine it. 

But maybe the imagination part is not related to the darkness that enveloped you in that cold stoned dungeon at all. Maybe your hallucination was due something else entirely. 

Perhaps, how you could barely feel your toes because the weather started to show or how you hadn’t properly eaten ever since they left you in this hellhole had something to do with these things you supposed you’re imagining.

Or that rat really ate something that lingered around a piece of bone long forgotten in the corner and you swore there were no other leftovers except your own flesh, it probably would be the next thing that animal was going to eat. See, it was hard to tell one thing from another in the dark. 

Also, in the dark, it was really easy to lose track of time. There were no windows, and usually dungeons are held underground, there wouldn’t be any windows, that’s why you didn’t know whether it was day or night. 

Furthermore, it’s pretty hard to grasp how much time has passed while you’re out of consciousness. You don’t say you sleep, because this way, you’d be outstretching this word and its meaning. No. It was understandable even, you know you pass out after your body gives up due to exhaustion, hunger or because you’re beaten until you can’t stand anymore.

There was a lot to say about the dark, and you didn’t like it at all, but the dark is doable. The silence though, was something else. 

It was deafening. It was maddening. 

The silence remained imperturbable. 

Except for the occasional sound of rats and mice fighting for some dirt somewhere your eyes often couldn’t reach, the sound of your chains clicking when you moved or the eventual whimper you failed to conceal in the depths of your despair. 

There was no other sound.

After a while, your heart began to process the situation you were in. Alone, thrown into a cell, all the respect due to someone like you had been neglected. Not that you expected to be treated like a princess of your status should, but at least, you supposed you should be treated fairly, at least. 

However, reality was far worse than the things you believed were fair. 

You had experienced war, fights, battles, treason attempting, riot and several other crises throughout your short life as a ruler aspirer, by the gods, you even endured to be held as prisoner before. 

Yet, nothing compared to the taste Wanda’s betrayal left in your mouth.

Maybe you were being silly, sulking into your misery instead of putting up a fight or trying to find a way out of this nightmare. Perhaps you should be doing these things, trying to turn the tide of events to your favor, however, there isn't a single bone capable of keeping going. You were paralyzed. 

Frozen in time and place, your head still insisted on wrapping itself around the last events, filled with thousands of questions that you knew you probably wouldn’t get any answer to. Have you been naive for falling in love, or have you been just reckless? 

When did Wanda decide that you were the weakest point in this whole story? Was this play obvious to everybody that you would fall for a lie incarnated in a perfect body with a beautiful face? 

Maria did warn you, though. Maybe it was obvious to everybody else except to you. 

Certainly, if you had your head in the right place, you would find this embarrassing. However, right then and there, you realized it was just sad, because to you Wanda was everything, and all she’s done was use you for her personal purposes. You were just a prey that failed running off the huntress.

Time seemed to drag itself at a snail's pace, but then again, you didn’t even know how much time had passed. For all you knew, it could be a month already. Even if you were able to count a hundred of days, you supposed your mind wouldn’t stop its assault with the thoughts of Wanda. 

It was all too impressive the way your heart still yearned for the woman, even though your feelings were shattered on the floor, broken beyond repair. Too bad something so good took this unexpected turn and the bitter taste was just another reminder of how unbelievable this was. 

How unfortunate your heart happened to be in the middle of everything.

All those beautiful moments you had shared were nothing but a ploy, a set up built on lies. And you wondered how long it would take for you to swallow down your throat the shards of your ego that threatened to choke you or to pick up the shreds of your heart poured in the wind.

The salty, ironed copper taste was the first thing your mind was aware of as it drifted back into consciousness. Usually the cold, hard ground felt like a twisted, sick embrace to your beaten body, except, you awoke on your feet, body hanging from the ceiling by the chains. 

The dim light reaching your eyes creeped from the creak between door and floor betrayed the torches burning in the corridors. It could only mean one thing. It was late and someone would be walking through these halls. Other than this, the heavy door made with iron never allowed you a simple glance of anything else. 

Besides, maybe, by the small opening in the middle that was usually closed except when the guards opened it to come and check up on you. It always made you feel like an animal in a zoo, and you supposed you were the main attraction in this godforsaken place. It was almost disrespectful the number of times they came to see if you were in the same place. 

As if you could go anywhere else.

The chains hanging from the ceiling were their first guarantee that you couldn’t move more than a foot unless they loosened it enough for you to lay down on the floor. This mercy was granted only for a few hours. 

They made sure you wouldn’t mistake your staying as an unwanted vacation in the Northern Castle. And this was definitely not your winter cabin to enjoy the glamor of the current season. You were a prisoner after all, not a guest.

And then, perhaps worse than everything else, there was the smell.

The room ricked to death, rot, and body fluids. The smell was awful. Sick. It made your stomach churn, and your vomit was a new addition to the horrid smell impregnating the walls, your clothes, skin and nose. Hell, even your brain was probably infected with this stank.

It hadn’t been long, you mused, but your clothes were wasted already, torn to shreds. Your hair clang to your head and face due sweat and blood, and you knew dirt was just another layer of your skin by now.

However, no matter how fucking dreadful your situation was, no matter how fucking awful you were feeling. Nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Wanda’s betrayal.

Right on your first day, Vision had come to your cell to gloat and brag about your stupidity and naivety of falling on their plan like a deer hunted by a huntress. Every word stung deep and deeper on your entire being, but you wouldn’t let it show.

That’s why you decided to headbutt him, which earned you the pleasant view of his face contorted in pain and embarrassment. But as the blood slid from his nose, blood slid from you too.

With an incredible amount of stamina, strength and hatred Lord James Barnes, pleasantly, whipped your back until your legs gave in and you couldn’t keep up by yourself anymore. Blood splattered on the floor, over the walls and even his face.

The wicked smirk present on Vision’s face turned into a satisfied grin once your low grunts of pain became higher, though never really screaming, he contented himself with your humiliation after you couldn’t stand on your own anymore.

Obviously, you were ashamed of showing any sort of weakness before your enemy, this was one of the first lessons you were taught when younger. The shame burned just as the wounds on your back burned with an angry fire as if your skin was boiling from inside out.

Still, it didn’t burn or hurt as much as the thought of Wanda.

The memories of your moments with Wanda Maximoff assaulted your brain mercilessly, without invitation, without stop. Nothing could erase the feel of her touch or her lips. No matter how hard you tried, though brief, your time with the Princess of Sokovia was beyond intense.

You’d experienced love for the first time. It was fast and strong like wildfire; it was only obvious that the devastation in its wake would be just the same.

You didn’t even need to be dropped in a cell to rot into oblivion to be punished because your broken heart was punishment enough. No matter how many physical assaults the Sokovians could think of it would still be nothing after what Wanda did.

Your internal whimper came to a halt when you heard the dungeons floor clicking with the sound of shoes. You weren’t aware if you were the only one in these chambers, but you knew better. This would be Vision, coming for another nice chatter.

He must be bored.

“Lioness, good to see you awake.” The man hissed as he entered the cell you were in. One would expect to be treated like someone of your status would, but this was a piece of Hell on earth. Sokovia didn’t regard the nobles as the other realms did.

Therefore, you didn’t reply. You stood there eying him with disdain, gritting your jaw and silently pleading to the gods to give you strength to not break his nose again. You could endure the pain, but you weren’t mad. Yet.

“Hm, not feeling so talkative today, are you?” Sir Rumlow snarled a few feet from you and in a span of milliseconds, your body moved so fast that one would think that you acted on instinct.

In a blink of an eye, your hands gripped the chains holding your wrists and with an unexpected force, you lifted your body and dropped your legs around Rumlow’s neck. You pressed your thighs hard against his head and the feeble lights coming from the torches allowed you to see his face turning purple due lack of air.

Lord Barnes stopped you from killing the man after he punched your ribs with the hilt of his sword. The searing pain ripped the air out of your lunges and your legs automatically left the knight’s neck and sought to support your body.

You were granted, though, with his embarrassed eyes, coughing lightly due the pressure your legs had put on his throat. You smiled lightly, taking this as little victory to your personal score of vengeance.

The good feeling was short lived, for Vision took one step closer to you, though a little more preoccupied about your fighting skills even chained to the ceiling like you were, and his smirk was on. 

You’re yet to see this man without that smirk and you knew, somehow, that he posed like that because he thinks he’s won the war.

Maybe he did.

“I wouldn’t be so smug If I were you.” His eyes darted around the place as if to indicate that there was nothing to be amused about. “You’re still in this hellhole and I can see your face stained with tears.”

His expression morphed into a mockery of a dramatical sad face, lips now facing downwards and only then you were aware that you had cried. And you hated to show another sign of weakness to the man that was exceedingly fast becoming your archenemy.

Yet, you knew so little about him.

“Why are you so sad?” He asked rhetorically and pretended to search his head for possible reasons why you weren’t feeling so super lately. The nerve of this man. 

“Is it because mommy isn’t here to clean her baby?” He mocked, then continued. “Is it because you weren’t as smart as you thought you were? Or…” His eyes went wide as if realization clicked in his head right then and there.

“Awn you truly thought she loved you, Lioness?” He laughed. He had the gall to laugh off your feelings, but you let him. “Know that in a couple of moons, I’ll have Wanda’s hand and you’ll be nothing in my memory or hers. Barely a nuisance long forgotten.” He made a movement of dismissing with his hands, but your tongue was sharper than his words.

Shrugging your shoulders, the best you could chained to the ceiling, you replied. “If you don’t mind where her hand was.” You were hurting but you would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing you broken. He’d see strength, nothing else.

However, you couldn’t deny that his words had an effect on you, you couldn’t deny that you were hurting and the idea of Wanda marrying this idiot hurt beyond explanation. Somehow, your stupid heart still hoped that this was a trick, or anything else but truth.

Jealousy simmered through your veins and stomach. Jealousy, confusion and betrayal. Was this her plan all along or did you do something that changed her heart?   

The days you shared that house with the Princess of Sokovia were magical, past perfection. There was no word to describe the woman who owned your heart nor the moments of complicity, love and tender you had experienced. Too bad it was just a lie.

It was all but a lie.

And Vision made his job to remind you of that. She had lied to you, deceived you into a ruse just so they could lock you up and request a ransom deal. It was slimier than thousands of snakes. And you fell for that.

The wedding, though, was only a confirmation that you were stupid and fell for a woman that played you around like a ragdoll and didn’t even have the guts to come down to this piece of hell and look you in the face.

What for, though? To mock you? To laugh at your poor state? Maybe it was a mercy not having her present to rub it on your face.

But what you could and wanted to do was to bring the man standing tall in front of you down, lower than where you were now. And the good thing about rock bottom was just this, there was nothing holding you back. 

“Tell me, Vision, do you taste me whenever she kisses you?” Your grin was clearly smug, you bare your teeth more like fangs ready to pierce a piece of flesh of those who dared to think that only because you were locked imagined you were tamed. Far from it.

He punches you, hard, but the anger boiling in his eyes was your prize. “Could you be more vulgar? You speak like a whore.”

Suddenly, you realized that physical pain was a solace from your internal misery. Maybe if you pushed his buttons hard enough, he’d kill you then you wouldn’t have to live with all this pain you were forced to deal with inside your heart.

A renewed salty, ironed copper taste danced on your mouth and his only answer was a blooded grin to his rhetorical question. You spat the blood on his shoes and asked another question. “Does she call my name whenever you fuck? Or does she call you babe afraid of making a mistake?”

Another set of punches and screams of anger and you could only laugh. Oh poor man, maybe Wanda didn’t love him either and she could very well be a woman playing with both hearts. If yes, he deserved it. Maybe a twisted god would say that you deserved it too.

“Stop.” A new voice was heard above the noise of fist hitting flesh and irritated mutters from Vision.

You had heard a lot about him. Official stories, reports, songs sung by bards, memories from Wanda and a lot else, but this was the first time you properly saw him.

Pietro Maximoff was a handsome man, and the stories did him justice when it comes to regal stance and beauty. He walked as if he had everything figured out just like a King should.

The knights Barnes and Rumlow bowed instantly, dropping to their knees but Vision limited himself to turn and look at the man as if he were annoyed by the interruption. He probably was annoyed. He probably wanted to kill you.

“Lord Vision, I believe I already informed you about my concerns involving our hostage.” The exacerbated formal tone caught your attention. Pietro was a king, yes. But this was a prison, he didn’t have to act all regal in a place that stank more than any sewer.

“You have, my king, I was only having a conversation with her.” He side-eyed you as if to engrave your distasteful state into his brain for later, as if this meant he had won. 

“I see.” Pietro looks at you and you expect mockery, some snarky comment but nothing comes. “Leave, please.” He demands. “All of you.” The men were ready to protest but his somber expression left no room for any argument.

He didn’t know whether you were dangerous or not. Just as you had only heard about him, he had only heard about you and to step inside your cell without an escort or visible blade told you he was brave. Or he was a reckless fool. 

“The tales credited you a few inches higher, I’m afraid.” Pietro finally says something directed at you after a while sizing you up and down.

You spat another amount of blood, that hit the floor, for his shoes were keeping a wise distance from you. “Maybe you’re confused with my sword’s size, Your Highness.”

He looks at you for a moment, then chuckles. “Ahh ever the brave cub that keeps roaring even on a leash.” Despite the grin on his face, his words dripped with sarcasm.

“Did you come here to kill me already or will you keep mocking me until I die of boredom?” Your impatience was visible. It’s been too long and no one told you what was going to happen. Except for Vision telling you he’d marry the princess.

Certainly, you wouldn’t be held in this place forever. You were too much of a precious prize for that.

Again, Pietro chuckled and clicked his tongue as if disagreeing with your idea. “You know how these things work; I can’t kill you. You’re too valuable.” He patronized and you wished he was closer so you could headbutt him as well. You didn’t mind if your temper could get you killed, you were past the point of caring for what’s stored for your future.

Then, your head stopped thinking about your broken heart for a second and understood what they planned. A ransom deal that would grant them everything that they wanted. They’d redraw borders and Taharr would lose a lot.

In a futile attempt to discourage him, you lied. “She’ll never negotiate with you because of me.” It was plain and obvious to every person that ever heard about Queen Calanthe that she’d trade her soul to protect her children.

Again, Pietro tsks because he knew his enemy’s greatest weakness. “You know that’s not true. And if something were to happen to you, I’m sure Queen Calanthe would gather every capable person to fight, every sword, march north and stop for nothing until she has my head in a spike after breaking brick by brick down.” He explained, rather amused at the idea he painted with his mind eye. Though you knew she’d do exactly what he had said and more.

“I bet she’s already restless knowing you’re my hostage.” He crossed his arms and looked at you again. “But I gave her my word that you’ll be back alive, unscathed, the moment we draw new borders.”

Unscathed.

Sokovians probably needed an update of the meaning of this word. Despite calling you hostage, you were a prisoner, and it was only obvious you were paying for your crimes and sins. One of them, the worst of them, was your little romance with Wanda.

You closed your eyes at his words. Your fears proved to be true, you’d be the demise of entire families, not to mention how much your kingdom would lose because of you, because you couldn’t keep your pants on. People would suffer and that would be your fault, so much so for trying to stop the war.

“What did you ask?” You questioned through gritted teeth. “The highlands above Ororo’s Fortress?” In your head, it was only reasonable, because that would represent a great deal of farms and the heart of the golden mines.

Your train of thought was interrupted by his voice, though. “Everything above Red Widow Valley.” He smirked triumphantly as your eyes widened.

“That’s outrageous! She’ll never agree with that.” They were asking for more than a half of Taharr’s territory. The farms, the people, everyone who depended and relied on Taharr to not starve would suffer. Guilt weighted on your shoulders like heavy iron.

“She already has.” He stated simply, with a smug grin hanging in his mouth.

“You’re probably thinking so high of yourself, aren’t you?” You looked at him with eyes cold as ice and continued. “You play war as if your people were nothing, you play with a mother’s love…” A scornful look morphed your semblance. “But it’s pitiful that you had to use your own sister to get you what you failed to.”

At the mention of Wanda, his chill demeanor turned into a flame of anger. “You do not get to talk about my sister.” He yelled and you spat the blood on your mouth on the floor once again, this time, you realized he was much closer than before. “You played enough with her and had fun. Now go back to the whores waiting for you in Taharr.”

He dared to speak with you as if you were the one playing her heart when, in fact, she was taking piece by piece of you these past months.

All the hate in you flared. 

You wanted to hurt Pietro the same way you were hurting. All you wanted to do was to enumerate the despicable things you did in that bedroom with her. How you fucked her, how you had your way with her, and she still begged for you to fuck her harder.

You wanted to bring Wanda’s name lower than a whore’s, for, at least, with a whore you only get what you’re paying for. There was an urge in your heart compelling you to disclose your intimacy until his cheeks burned the same way your heart did from all the stabbing Wanda gave you.

But, in the end, you didn’t even have in you the strength to fight anymore let alone to pose as someone else other than a broken woman with a broken heart.

For once, there wasn’t in you that fire that was always present, that fire that compelled you to fight and stop only if Death claimed your body as hers. For once, the wild lioness couldn’t roar anymore.

“I loved your sister, Pietro.” Devoid of any humor or sarcasm, you spoke the truth of your heart. Why? There was nothing else left. “Even though she lured me to fuck with me and get your goddamn deal. We both know she was the one using me, instead of the other way around.”

Something shone behind Pietro’s eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They were so alike and at the same time they were so different that your brain short-circuited. When he spoke, there wasn’t mockery or sarcasm either. Which surprised you.

“Did you really fall in love, Young Lioness?”

He was close and you could finally headbutt him, but you were so devoid of fight or self-respect that you relented. Every single one of your mother’s rules went out of the window. That tale of not showing your enemy what’s in your heart? Or not showing your weakness? There was no point in hiding anymore.

You were defeated.

“How could I have not?”

—

The travel to the south was murderously slow.

As your retinue passed the villages that still belonged to Taharr but in a few weeks would belong to Sokovia, your heart broke over and over. You could swear that people looked at you with disapproving eyes at your actions even though they couldn’t really see you inside the wagon. Or know what you have done. Yet.

You hated wagons and asked to ride a horse, but they considered that you could run and disappear somewhere once in Taharr’s lands. They were probably right.

You hadn’t thought about escaping, but that idea would, most certainly, occur any time after you were surrounded by your kingdom’s vegetation, forests or villages. You knew basically everything about your territory, and this would obviously be an advantage.

Hence the wagon. And your boredom.

If the constant visits of Vision were a pain in the ass, not having visits at all were far worse if that makes any sense. You hated the man for gloating or mocking you but at least you could hate him and not suffer alone as you did when you were all by yourself.

Your wounds were treated before you could march south and the food was no longer distasteful, it was only bad. Which was a huge improvement, considering you still stayed in your cell with that smell, no longer chained to the ceiling. 

Your routine of self-loathing was only disturbed by the guards serving you food, for not even King Pietro or one of the knights came to your cell again. Natasha Romanoff never showed up at your cell, doesn’t even need to mention that you never caught sight of Wanda, not even a glimpse of that auburn hair.

When you finally reached Triskelion, it felt like every single person was on the streets to see the Sokovian legion arriving at the Castle, something unheard of since the early days of the Golden Accords.

Only the noble dignitaries and their protection unit were allowed inside the castle walls, as for the rest of the Sokovians prepared their camp somewhere on the left side of the main wall, outside the Keeper itself, where your people would keep an eye on their movements day and night.

You expected loath and hatred in your mother’s eyes, but you were surprised when you saw relief. You had been reckless like never before and you were sure you’d be punished for it, yet it never came. Somehow, it made you feel worse. You didn’t deserve compassion.

“Oh darling, I’m so glad you’re back home.” Her kind words warmed your heart, that so desperately needed some love and rest.

Loki’s face was pale, and you knew he hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly. Just like when you were taken by the Kree and Witch Harkness, Loki probably thought you’d die, and he’d lose his sister. It pained you that you caused him more distress.

Maria and Carol greeted you with the same intensity as they chastised you and that brought a sense of normalcy that put your heart at ease.

The following days you were treated by the castle doctors, and you took your time to heal and rest. Your bed never felt so welcoming, but you couldn’t take from your head the memory of Wanda’s. How soft and how warm her duvets were whenever she laid by your side.

It was obvious that your feelings for her would take a long, long time to fade off. If ever.

As the negotiations advanced, you could sense the restlessness building up on the room full of nobles. Taharrians and Sokovians.

While the latter wanted to move on fast and redraw the borders, Taharrians insisted that they needed to wait for King Tony’s approval of the new border and, especially, King T’Challa’s arrival, for he had requested to be present for the negotiations.

It was only reasonable. Taharr had a peaceful agreement with both Kingdom’s about borders but when it comes to the Embaku’s Forest on the east between Wakanda and Taharr, things were even more complicated than that.

Wakandans believed this forest was sacred and their spirits wandered about the trees to connect again so they could guide their people into prosperity. Your mother and your past relatives always respected their beliefs and never invaded or hunted anywhere near the forest.

King T’Challa, however, wanted to make sure the Sokovians would understand and respect this as well. But if you had learnt anything at all, it is that Sokovians loved a good scheme, were power-hungry and untrustworthy.

Especially untrustworthy.

Your back ached and your bones screamed with every turn and strike you managed with your sword, just as it did with every blow parried by your shield. You looked around bewildered; only moments ago there was a group of nobles discussing new terms and agreements which, somehow, erupted into a fight.

And, with the increasing numbers of Sokovians flooding the halls and chambers of Triskelion, you knew this was an invasion. Someone opened the gates and now a crimson and silver legion inundated your home.

Anger filled you whole and your chest wanted to burst. How many times would you be betrayed by a Sokovian?

You saw Maria running like a wild mare trying to get the Taharrian troops into the castle, for there were only a few units serving as patrol and escort. With Lord Barton lost, deceased or prisoner, information yet unknown, his legion was still adjusting to the new commander so they would take time to arrive.

Lord Wilson fought by your side, and this was probably an order from your mother. You wouldn’t complain this time though, your body was still trying to recover from dehydration, starvation, and from the physical and emotional slaughter.

You tried and failed to get a glimpse of your mother’s whereabouts, because the sea of red was overwhelming. The castle was cramped, so much so that it felt like the air filling your lunges wasn’t enough.

A sword came dangerously close to your head, but you blocked it in the nick of the time. This wouldn’t be a great time to get headless, you mused. With extreme difficulty, and great effort, you pushed back the Sokovians out of the Castle.

They were strong, organized and knew exactly what to do. This was odd. There was a traitor among Taharrians, and you couldn’t, for the life in you, think who would be capable of such absurdity.

From the castle walls it was possible to see Sokovians outside the Main Wall reinforced with two units that belonged to Hydrarr trying to organize a siege, it was definitely odd. If Hydrarr was responsible for stealing and burning Sokovian’s farms, how were they friends now?

Something didn’t add up.

The attempt of railing and controlling the castle backfired and with the arrival of Wakanda’s retinue, Sokovians and Hydrarrians got caught between your troops and the Wakandans. The whole fight lasted almost a day, but you finally stopped the enemies and forced their retreat to the north.

It was certainly a coup.

There were far too many soldiers on your escort in the first place and, even if they were afraid of insurgents as they had said, there were far too many units for a simple border draw. The group of nobles representing Sokovia was made of low-ranking nobles, no one really important to lose in a fight and, except for Sir Rumlow, you didn’t know who they really were.

Sokovians and Hydrarrians tried to overthrow your mother in the most violent and less honorable way possible. The gods should be thanked that the Wakandans arrived in time.

You searched the castle after your mother, but she was nowhere to be seen and even people who saw her fighting said they lost track of her. There was this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was wrong, very much so.

There were people, friend or foe, being carried to the medical bays to be attended to. As were the bodies. After you left the great hall and reached the main corridor, your heart sank when you saw Lady Carol kneeled beside the lifeless body of Knight Belova.

Knight Yelena Belova was one of the fiercest warriors in the whole continent. First, she served as spy, then requested to serve as knight and soon was graced with the honor of being one the Queen’s protector. The most noble and valuable warrior. And now she was laying on the ground in a poodle of blood surrounded by enemies’ bodies.

She fell fighting like a giant, you thought. However, you hated yourself for not paying the proper respect to her service and sacrifice because all you could think of was your mother.

A trail of blood not far from Belova guided you to another room, a few steps away from where you were now. As soon as your eyes landed on the figure in red and white clothes laying on the floor, you felt as though your heart’s going to explode right then and there.

You ran towards your mother, but it felt like your feet were moving through the water.

The second you reached her, you sank to your knees and only then you saw Loki sobbing by her side. He had her head over his lap and held her hand tight. You grabbed the other and it was cold, sickening cold.

“Mother.” You cried but there was no answer. You hoped she’d crack a smile or maybe simply look at you, but she didn’t move, she didn’t open her eyes. “Mother!” You called, urgently, this time. As if some energy could wake her up.

“Sister.” Loki called. His tone was already mourning, grieving, as if to tell you the truth. A truth that you couldn’t take or accept.  

“No.” You replied, shaking your head as if throwing a tantrum right then would make any difference, as if it could change fate. As if it could change the fact that your mother was gone and you weren’t there for her, even if to hold her and see the light fading from her eyes.

Your body shook terribly as though your soul was about to slip through your pores. She died a hero’s death, fighting. As she always said she wanted, but you couldn’t believe it, and in a selfish thought, you realized she was gone without teaching you everything you needed.

She was gone when you needed her the most. After all, you would always need her. She was your hero, your beacon. 

“Sister,” He tried again. “She’s gone.” His voice had an edge of something, as if he was trying to convince himself. You took him in and saw his robes stained with blood but no visible weapon, though it didn’t look like he was hurt.

“What happened?” You averted your gaze from your mother and met his. There was so much going on behind his eyes that kept your attention until they finally focused. He was lost and so were you.

It was all your fault. If you hadn’t decided to sneak into Wolfgang City, you wouldn’t have gotten caught and this absurd ploy orchestrated by the Sokovians or Hydrarrians wouldn’t have existed. If this deal had never happened, your mother would still be alive.

Hot tears slipped down your face freely, you were responsible for her death in the same way whoever wielded the sword that took her life was. Grief already soaked your bones as all you could think was everything you did wrong.

“I- I- tried, but-.” Loki tried to speak, but his voice trembled just like his body. He was in shock.

“You saw who did this?” Your voice brought his eyes back to you, he was confused and hurting, yet there was something about his expression that brought that uneasiness back to your stomach.

“Ru- Rumlow. I- I- think.” He stuttered more so sobbed the answer as he used his sleeve to clean the blood, sweat and tears staining his face. Then, you took him in and his clothes properly.

“Loki…” Your brother wasn’t a warrior per se, but with an invasion like the one they had just witnessed it was only reasonable that he’d be sporting a chest blade or shield at least. But there was nothing visible around him. Not even a blade or his famous scepter. “Where's your armor?”

Your tone startled him. His eyes darted around like a cornered animal. “Where were you this whole time?” You asked because you couldn’t remember his whereabouts ever since the breakfast that he, uncharacteristically, skipped.

“I- hm. I was-.” Stutter is not a trait that you’d ever associate with him. His demeanor shifted from shocked to someone realizing they’re on thin ice.

Your patience waned off instantly.

“Spill it out.” You hissed and it was absurd that you were about to argue with your brother over your mother’s dead body, but his behavior was too strange for you to ignore. Or you were just too paranoid by this point.

“I- Please, sister, you have to believe me. None of this was meant to happen.” His voice waved, he was about to cry again and the lump forming on your throat made it impossible for you to breathe properly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You blinked. His words resonated in your ear as your brain tried to process every single word and what they really meant. You started to shake your head as they sank in, already dismissing the possibility of what was being presented before you. “Are you telling me you’re involved in this?”

“No.” He bellowed, as if your accusation was outrageous. “Oh gods, this is so messed up.” His eyes shot to the ceiling for a second then, they focused on yours again. “I was supposed to facilitate their entry, but they weren’t supposed to touch you. Or mother.” Loki’s eyes were hollow, haunted by his own actions.

You knew that. You could see it. His guilt was consuming him already, but you too were being consumed.

“You betrayed us, Loki! Your mother! Your sister! Your kingdom! And for what?” You grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him violently, as if the action could knock some sense into his head.

“All I wanted was what is mine by right! I am a King with no kingdom.” He yelled, slapping your hands away from him. “They betrayed me.”

His slap hurt just as the weight of his words did. Though deeply hurting, anger was the only feeling accessible in that moment. “King of what, Loki?” Anger was the only feeling that you could rely on to not fall apart entirely, so you held onto it and let it course through you like the blood you had in your veins.

“In Jotunheim I’d be a King!” He puffed his chest as if it was plain obvious and anger boiled in him due your lack of understanding. And how could you? Loki thought. You were born and raised to be a queen, his unfaithful fate was barely a nuisance to you.

“In Jotunheim you’d be dead!” It was your turn to shout and bring him out of his head, bring him back to reality.

“Can’t you see that this is my birthright?” He asked, almost in a plea and you shook your head vehemently, as if he was being a stupid child.

“And you thought that overthrowing your mother, the woman that raised you as her own child, was the right way of achieving it?” Your head tilted to the side with your sarcastic question, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done yet.

“As far as I know, Jotunheim is deep in a civil war again after the eighth in line killed the sixth. The third is crippled in a bed waiting for death’s mercy and all the others died, except for you, the seventh in line. And that’s because of her.”

Every word leaving your mouth felt like a double edge knife. Cutting him just as deep as it was cutting you. Tears streamed down his face as the bigger picture downed in his brain.

“I- I- sister, I beg you. You have to understand, I never wanted this to happen.” He was torn, his decisions would be the grave his grief would bury him in. “Please, forgive me.” He pleaded, suffering in advance.

Now his fate lies in your hands.

“No Loki.” You opened your mouth to continue, but you were devastated and devoid of words or strength to keep talking.

His eyes shot up and searched yours for something, anything. But there was just emptiness.

“No. There must be a way! You are my sister…” His eyes darted around, then focused on yours as he tried again. “Please, tell me what I should do. Anything and I’ll fix it-.”

You stared back at him as he searched his intelligent brain for a way to be forgiven. May your mother forgive you someday, but you couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Run, Loki.” Your voice broke the silence, and he frowned at your answer or their meaning. “Run and don’t you dare to ever come back.” Your voice did not waver once, unlike how you really felt inside your heart.

“But I- you don’t-.” He stuttered once more, pale with the horrors he had just seen and with the horrors he would face as soon as he left the castle. Loki knows he’d be wanted and hunted down like a mad dog if he decided to stay in Taharr and knew that he’d be dead the second he stepped in Jotunheim territory.

Hells, without the queen’s protection, wherever he decided to go would be too dangerous for him. He was doomed.

Your disgust was evident when you interrupted him. “You don’t understand what your greed did to me. I lost my mother and my brother at the same time.” Sadness emerged in your eyes for the briefest of moments before you finished your sentence. “Leave immediately, you don’t belong to this kingdom anymore.”

Turning your back on him, you laid on the floor right by your mother's side and stood there. The cold of the marble floor impregnating your skin as her blood soaked your clothes, your soul and heart.

Despite the words spoken towards Loki, you knew you were just as guilty as he or Sir Rumlow was. Your greed brought your mother’s demise just as your brother’s did.

Your greed of thinking that you could end the war. The greed of thinking, wishing even, that you were allowed to love. Greed of believing that Wanda fell for you the way you did for her, when, in turn, you should’ve known better.

As you wept and mourned your dear mother, you remembered the last conversation you had had with her. If you only knew it’d be your last.

The what ifs would drive you mad before the sun rose in the horizon, for sure.

“I’m sorry mother. I failed.” Your voice was low, a far cry from your usually confident self.

“You did.” She stated as she offered you the cup of tea. “That makes you human.”

You smiled at her. Maybe she got too scared of losing her daughter, for she was being too subtle and forgiving in a way that was mostly out of character for her.

“You see, love, life is not an easy game to play.” She patted you on your face lightly, as she always did when she needed you to look intently at her and show you tenderness at the same time. “As a ruler, as a future queen, the path is even more tortuous.”

“Do you mean tortuous as complex or devious?” You took a sip from the liquid as lavender invaded your nostrils. Chamomile and lavender, she knew you hadn’t been sleeping. Of course she did.

“Both.” She smiled softly.

“Are you going to punish me?” You blatantly asked, almost ignoring what she had said. But you absorbed her words and their meaning. Life would be – was – difficult and deceitful at the same time.

You watched as Calanthe had the gall to laugh at your question, but then she shook her head lightly. “I believe you’re already doing it for yourself, love.” She patted your knee as she took a seat by your side.

The trees on the fields ahead were long naked, devoid of their leaves or fruits due winter, yet they were still beautiful, somehow.

“I was a fool and now our people will pay the price.” Your words were harsh, but not directed at her. It was all directed at you.

“They probably will, but you must not forget about the others under your command. If you keep looking at what you lost, you may lose even more by neglecting what you still have.” Her wisdom reached your ears and heart, but you retorted.

“How can we rebuild from this low?” Your voice resembled a child facing a puzzle or a challenge they cannot solve on their own and she smiled kindly at you, she probably saw it the same way.

“Well, love, I’ve learnt a long, long time ago to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring.” She spoke, not looking at you this time, but to the trees ahead on the fields.

“What?” You requested clarification and she gave it to you.

“You see how the trees always lose their leaves and get pruned over the winter? This is natural and the trim is a must so their branches can grow stronger. When spring arrives, the beauty returns to the trees, and they’ll grow whole again, with leaves, flowers, fruits…” The queen explained, all the while with a tender smile on her face, as though she’s explaining the meaning of life to an infant.

And, in fact, she was.

“You’re facing your winter, love, you’re getting pruned, and I know it hurts. But you’ll come back whole, you just must be patient and wait for the spring.” Her hand rested on yours and gave it a light squeeze. “Your kingdom will spring too, you just need to work through its winter.”

As her words sank in, your spirit felt renewed with a sense of duty and obligation to your people. You’d fight for their safety, and you’d work on deals to grant the families the decision to choose which realm they’d live in.   

Nodding slightly, you replied. “I will.”

“I expect nothing different.” The warmth provided by her hand and words were so welcomed that had you closing your eyes. You missed home, especially, you missed your mother. “And to answer your question, I could never punish you for following your heart.”

You opened your eyes to see her dark orbs boring into yours with the same tenderness that she used to look at you after falling from your horse when you were still learning how to ride. They were intense, they were protective, they were everything you could focus on.

Out of everything you could or should say, your chest spoke first. “Will it hurt like this forever, mother?” Right then and there, you were only a child scared of their first time hurt and she softened her features even more.

“Oh love,” She hugged you and you reveled on the warmth provided by her embrace and love. “I’m afraid I don’t have the answer for this, as my short experience with your father, I still miss him.” You took a deep breath. Your father isn’t often mentioned, it was like an open wound how he died so soon after your birth.

“I feel so stupid for being lured into that trap.” Your voice was muffled by her chest as she caressed your head, fingertips playing with the baby hairs growing on your hairline.

“You shouldn’t feel stupid for having feelings.” She kissed your forehead lightly, then resumed her ministrations. It was soothing, healing. “If anything it shows me you have a heart.”

“I hate her for what she did to me, and I hate that I can’t hate her.” You felt her chest moving, she chuckled at your words and their ambiguity. You drew back to look at her in the eyes and spoke again. “I mean it, I- I hate her and love her at the same damn time.”

You sighed and relented, for you had finally come out with your true feelings. You didn’t count that desperate and pitiful confession to Pietro. “Because only love can hurt like this, right?” You asked and again, you looked like a youngling about to enter a maze. Insecure and scared.

She nodded, trying to bite back the emotion striking her chest, as a mother she hated everything you had been through. As a mother, she hated the marks – visible or not – the Sokovian princess had caused you. As a mother, your suffering was physically painful for her to testify.

As a queen, though, she knew this was a lesson you had to learn. As a queen, she knew this would only make you tougher, no matter how daunting everything looked now. As a queen, she knew this was a path for you to understand – fully – how one single action has its burdens.

“You should make Loki next in line, for I’m not fit to be a queen.” Your blunt words brought her out of her head, and she blinked several moments before speaking.

“Where’s this coming from?” Her head turned fast to look at you, to look you in the eye and maybe pierce the answer herself.

Completely uncomfortable, you shrugged your shoulders avoiding eye contact at any cost. However, you gave her the answer she had requested. “Look at the mess I’ve made, look at the mess I am.”

With the corner of your eye, you saw her frown for a moment, then spoke. “I see a strong woman and nothing less. As for the mess, Pietro can have the gold, love, but he’ll eventually learn that he can’t eat metal in winter.”

Her hand softly touched yours, the comfort of the gesture couldn’t be measured in words, in fact, you thought your chest could burst with unshed tears, as if you were just a child weeping after their hurt knee. Though you couldn’t. You weren’t just a child anymore.

“As for the mess, you made a mistake. Do you think I’m perfect?” She completed after your silence, staring at your intertwined hands. You didn’t have to look up to see a small smile creeping to her lips.

“I do.” You replied sincerely and finally looked at her.

Almost out of character, the queen laughed. A wholehearted laugh erupted from her chest. “Thank you, but no, I did a lot and still do nowadays. When we make a choice, it can be good or bad. You just must live long enough to see which one is and have courage enough to fight to make it right, to make another choice hoping it’s for the best.”

Her index finger touched your nose softly, just like she used to when you were younger when she wanted to make a point. To point at you. “And you, love, you’re the bravest person I have ever met.”

“My courage just gets me in trouble, mother.” It was your turn to frown and look at her as if to double check if she weren’t mocking you. You had a lot of courage, indeed. You never backed down from a fight, never settled for the easy thing to do but the right one. Yeah, and there was always a huge problem hunting after your tail.

“You were brave enough to love your enemy, this tells me much.” Her words caught you out of guard, but a fond smile told she wasn’t mocking, or mad, it was as if she appreciated your stupid decisions. “That’s no easy feature and that’s why I know you’ll protect and be kind to our people. Your kingdom.”

“It’s your kingdom, my queen.” Your brows were furrowed again, not quite liking her tone or the direction this conversation was taking.  

“One day it will be yours, love.” A satisfied smirk punctuating her sentence.

A hand violently shaking your shoulder brought your head back to present and the pain coursing through your chest was now back on full force. Your eyes snapped open and found the source of the hand being Lady Maria Rambeau.

“Oh by the gods you’re alive.” The woman spoke at your movement, fussing all over to find a wound. “You’re so pale and there’s so much blood…” Her voice trailed off at the end, cementing your heart with the painful truth.

“Maria, she- she’s gone.” You sobbed and her eyes softened tons at your broken voice and expression.

“I know.” She spoke gently while trying to make you get up from where you were laying. “And now I need you to rise from the ground, my Queen.”

The weight of her words hit you like a spear piercing your heart. The weight of your destiny fell on your shoulders like a blanket made of ice-cold metal.

“How?” You asked dumbly. You were not sure whether she meant the literal ground, the cold stone ground your body was half laying, half seating on or the pit of madness and chaos you and your whole kingdom got into.

You were not sure of how you could do either.

You were lost.

Suddenly, you were transported to a memory of when you were just a kid chasing after a foal that got lost into the woods near the royal stables. Like a brave little silly, you entered the tree line, but it didn’t take long for you to get lost. Every tree looked exactly like the other and soon you didn’t know what was left and right.

Much like then, you felt that lost. There was no right or left nor up and down. Just a rock bottom of misery staring back at you.

The person who had found you cornered into the trunk of a tree crying like a silly lost girl back then, wasn’t here anymore to guide you. Your mother was gone, and this was a reality you couldn’t escape.

“Why do we fall?” Maria’s voice brought your attention back to her. A kind smile matching her kind eyes towards you, her protégé.

“What?” You asked, again, dumbly. Not really understanding what she wanted from you or for an answer.

“Why do we fall?” She asked again as if it would make any sense. After realizing you were too shocked to properly answer, she clarified. “So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Her voice resonated throughout the room, but in your ears you could all but hear your mother’s voice and wisdom. This was the exact same sentence she had spoken so many years ago, after tenderly picking you from the ground.

Your mind was a whirlwind; This time it was your time to pick yourself up, you’d have to climb this hole by yourself.

Your brother betrayed you, your mother was dead and now you were the supreme ruler of Taharr. The people – your people – would look after you for guidance, for protection, to be their light in the darkest times, such as the ones you are facing now.

Getting up from the literal ground, you were back on your feet and though your knees were a little bit wobble, you kept your stance. Only now seeing Lady Carol and Lord Samuel also arrived in the room, eyes down with respect towards the body of your mother.

“Sam, help me take her to her room. Carol, gather the morticians to prepare her.” Your voice shook a little with grief and pain. Maybe being strong and trying to be a queen wouldn’t be an easy feat. Not that you thought it would.

After another intake of air, you turned to Maria and this time your voice was firmer. “Maria, you and I are climbing the north tower so I can light up the Goblet of Fire.” Some sort of reassurance took over your body as you decided to proceed with the costumes and traditions of when a king or queen dies in Taharr.

The next in line would be the one to light the fire that could be seen miles and miles away from Triskelion. The next in line would be the one to deliver the somber news to their people.

“We have an announcement to make.” You finished grimily.

taglist:@californianwhiterabbit @cowxpoke

Final

[marvels-bitch-boy]

YALL NEED TO GO READ @Opheliaapril ‘s SERIES ON AO3! Like now!! It’s called “What She Does To Me” it is fucking amazing!!!

The chemistry between Wanda and the Male OC is fantastic, and the writing makes me emotional! This writer has a gift!

[ihaveathingforwomen]

Invisible String (3662 words) by JacTheReaper Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Werner von Strucker, Wolfgang von Strucker Additional Tags: Original Character(s), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kinky, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut Series: Part 1 of Universes Away Summary: In this alternate universe, among Earth 2843, Baron Von Strucker has assigned his soldier prodigy to train his newest weapons - the twins.

a/n: This is a sort of prequel to the Universes Away Series that's begun on this page already. I'm writing them out of order in the way of the OG Star Wars trilogy. There will be one more part, Truths of the Dark, but that won't start for a while.

[bethsvrse]

when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

[lucjanbnuuy]

Happy Holidays!!2!1

Crazy combo of everyone everywhere all at once including even our and @vhs-consumer 's OCs 1! Hope ya enjoy and have a good one!

[annmaximoff18]

Deja Vu

[retshirou]

people kept asking me how irep’s parents would react to pamby, so i figured i should draw it

[cartoon-leafe]

They make me SICK

[kissingarthurclaus]

Because I'm insane, here's some drawings and doodles of some fairly oddparents stuff I've been doing the last couple days plus @circusgoth-dotcom 's s/i! (Pictures taken moments before disaster)

I don't know why I seem to suddenly and RANDOMLY get new hyperfixations lately, but my partner pointed out that it's always when they're gone on a work trip 😂😂 the colors aren't super concrete on my s/i and the outfit in general is a work in progress still, but I've been having a lot of fun experimenting with the style!

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @miutonium @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer @in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews

[myslooni]

Big hugs!!!

[marvels-bitch-boy]

I need Connor and Wanda to have a friends in public lovers in private situation at some point, him being protective and everyone knows it but they want to keep it for themselves

[alias-b]

"Honey, I'm home!"

Cooper Howard x my Vaultie OC Cora take a trip through Tranquility Lane by @pumpkinpowder

[pigeonp0st]

heelloo!! uhm i was thinking could u write an agatha harkness x reader one with Agatha sees r with another person (just as closer friends but Agatha doesn’t know it). Then Agatha invites r to her house and Agatha has to bite down on their lip so hard whenever r talks about the other person, angst with happy ending please (and if your are comfortable, maybe you can add smut)?

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary:

Agatha gets jealous of your relationship with Wanda. Emotion ensues.

Warning:

Jealousy, angst (not really)

Notes:

Thanks for the request! I wrote this pretty fast and have not even read it over once…I’ll probably fix it up later…anyways! Hope you enjoy still <3 I always love an Agatha request

——

Agatha stopped Wanda for you. She brought down Westview, and forced Wanda into reality. In the process she ruined both of their fantasies; Wanda’s fantasy of a perfect life, and Agathas of all consuming power.

She did it for you. Because the prospect of power was nothing compared to the prospect of your devastation. Because you asked her to. You with your warm eyes, full of more emotion and humanity than both Agatha and Wanda have in power combined.

You asked her to, and there was no other option.

So no. She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret trailing behind you and Wanda to help the Avengers, doesn’t regret following you. Can’t possibly. She doesn’t regret it, but Wanda smiles at you, leans in close, and Agatha feels a bit like she’s been betrayed. Betrayed because you smile back, and whisper something into Wanda’s ear that makes her flush a color that’s just perfect for the Scarlett Witch.

Agatha grits her teeth and returns to her book. She’s lived centuries and has never felt more childish.

It shouldn’t bother how close you and Wanda have gotten, she knows. She has no right to feel betrayed. She hasn’t done anything she’s done expecting anything more than your happiness. You aren’t hers.

You aren’t hers, and so Agatha just fumes silently in the corner of the room and imagines burning this whole damn tower down.

You don’t even know how Agatha cares, she knows. Every bit of vulnerability, love, and affection is hidden behind layers of humor and sarcasm.

You watch Agatha with distrust still because of it; wondering about alternative motives. Everyone in this god forsaken tower does, and Agatha has no idea why she’s here giving up centuries of planning for this game. These people are no different to those in Westview. Children playing dress up and pretend. All of them wearing costumes of heroes who aren’t afraid.

Cowards. All of them.

Your loud laugh draws Agatha’s attention from her page. Wanda is smiling at you with a gentleness Agatha can’t afford, and Agatha thinks, both with affection and a heavy heart; all of them but you.

She knows that despite her help she has given no one here good reason to trust her. She admits to herself that she enjoys letting them think she’s scheming—that she plays into it.

They’re just as uncaring for her as she is them. They push her away, but all you do is pull her in. To be brave and foolish is one in the same to Agatha, and she loves you for all the things she can’t afford to be.

—-

It’s only the next day that Agatha walks into the compound looking for you. She wants your help to test her potion.

She’s been visiting every day this week, and she’s beginning to feel a bit like the person she thought she wouldn’t ever be again. She’s beginning to settle into the thoughts instead of jerk away.

Then she sees you. You’re on top of Wanda, both you and her sleeping peacefully on the couch. Your head on her chest, her hand threaded in your hair, your legs intertwined.

The glass potion in Agatha’s hand shatters violently and loudly, startling only Wanda awake. She jerks and snaps her eyes towards Agatha, always on edge after being raised in war. Their eyes meet for only a second, and then both turn back to you, still sleeping peacefully.

Agatha turns on her heel. Wanda says, with a knowing that ruins her; “wait—”

Agatha, cowardly, no different than the people she despises, and never having claimed otherwise, teleports away.

—-

Agatha avoids the compound for just a week before she caves and invites you over.

She can’t bear to see Wanda, which is a new thing because usually she enjoys tormenting her. The image of her protective hand tangled in your hair, and your possessive leg thrown over her is still fresh in Agatha’s mind though.

Then there’s the text Wanda sent after Agatha left; filled with the same knowing Agatha sensed with her departure. You’re 5 years old.

(Then a bit later; whatever was in that potion melted through the compound. I hope you can magic up some money to fix your tantrum.)

Agatha, the picture of wisdom, sends Wanda two middle fingers and then blocks her.

So, naturally, she’s glad when you show up only an hour after Agatha’s text. No Wanda, for the first time in weeks.

At least—that’s what Agatha expected. It’s an hour later and all you’ve talked about is Wanda. Wanda this, Wanda that. Agatha has always had a challenge with patience, it’s always the biggest challenge of her schemes, and biting on her lip is barely constraining her from lashing out at this point.

It’s when Agatha tones your voice out though, that she notices the hunch to your shoulders, the heaviness in your eyes.

And the bruise around your neck. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? “Who did this to you?”

Agatha drops her dishes immediately, rushing to where you’re seated at the kitchen island. She thinks; who, who, with a desperate frustration as she tilts your head up to inspect the injury. She’ll kill them. Kill them.

For now, she pulls her magic forward, setting to the task of healing the violence inflicted on you, but you pull away from Agatha just as suddenly as she calls on her magic; angry in a way Agatha is caught off guard by.

“All you are is hot and cold,” you mutter, looking away. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days and you haven’t responded, then I come as soon as you call and you ignore me for an hour. Now…now you suddenly care that I’m hurt?”

Agatha blinks, once, twice, and then you’re standing up and pacing her kitchen. Agatha stands, hand still hovering where it was touching your cheek, and watches.

“If you’re done—If you’ve already gotten what you needed from us, whatever it is, and are done, just tell me. Tell me and stop pretending to care,” you plead. Agatha notices the dark circles under your eyes. Notices all the parts of you that are dimmed now that she’s not stuck on Wanda, Wanda. “I can’t play pretend like you do, Ag. I don’t get what it serves you to act like you care about me. I have nothing to offer.”

You’re spiraling in the middle of Agatha’s kitchen, and Agatha is torn between all of the parts of herself. The one that wants to laugh and brush this all aside, the one that wants to comfort you, the one that wants to kiss you, and the one she settles on; the version of her that’s angry and feeling misunderstood by the person she knows she’s done everything to deceive.

She’s not often hit by regret, or not often this out of control over her own emotions. It makes her angrier. Angrier because it takes her back and makes her feel younger than she’s been in centuries. She’s not that child anymore, can’t be.

Don’t you get that you’re ruining her?

—-

“I care,” Agatha whispers urgently, silently fuming and with her face morphed into a frustrated scowl. “Of course I care,” she says, like it should have never been in question—because she’s made it so clear apparently, you think disbelievingly, unable to help the scoff that chokes out of you.

Yeah right.

With more disappointment than Agatha could ever understand, you shake your head. “The only thing you care about, Agatha, is power. You tell me yourself all the time. I just thought— ” you pause, untamed tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what I thought…”

The moment the words leave your lips, you and Agatha enter into a standoff. Agatha furious and raging, and you too wrapped in your own emotions to register it as it is.

Agatha angry for the first time—at this. At the doubting of her care. It should say all you need to know, but you’ve missed it completely now that you’ve stopped looking.

It’s another moment of glaring before Agatha scoffs and stalks forward, pushing you into the wall and trapping you. Anyone else would be scared, but you just continue to glare (even as you flush).

There’s a part of you somewhere, one you don’t notice, but that Agatha does. A part of you that knows Agatha would never hurt you.

“I’m too old for this, ” Agatha grits out, and then her hand is around your throat. You don’t even flinch. Aren’t even surprised when you feel the rush of healing magic. All you’re surprised about is just that— your lack of surprise.

Agatha’s eyes turn inspecting, she shifts your head to the side with her other hand, ignoring your protests. You’re beginning to feel like a child, beginning to see things as they are.

Of course Agatha cares, you know. Somehow it hurts just as much. How could she both care and be so unpredictable, so cold? Had she thought of how you’d feel at all when you ignored her for the week? The other Avengers grew suspicious, checking everywhere around the compound for something stolen. You thought something terrible happened to her.

Only Wanda seemed unbothered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum,” she said, and wouldn’t explain further.

“Who did this?” Agatha repeats, pulling you from your thoughts.

“It was a mission”, you explained, the fire leaving you with it. You can’t afford to be mad at Agatha. You need and miss her too much.

Agatha growls, not settled at all. “Isn’t Wanda supposed to be protecting you?” She asks venomously, her jaw tightening along with her hand. “What good is your little girlfriend if she can’t even do that?”

It’s so laced with bitterness, with wanting, you’re left to blink at her, utterly shocked. Does Agatha think—? Wanda’s voice comes to your head; “she saw us cuddling and looked like she was going to murder me with the shattered glass in her hand.”

Seriously?

“What?” Agatha asks, self conscious in a way she never is. Self conscious because she likes—possibly loves you back.

All of this week’s turmoil, and for what? Because the two of you love each other?

—

You’re grinning at Agatha now, and Agatha is completely suspicious and unnerved. She tries to step back but you capture her wrists, pull her even closer.

Agatha’s heart pounds at the look on your face. Like a Cheshire cat. She can’t escape the feeling that she’s been caught. She eyes you with uneasiness.

You look at her expectantly now. “So much wisdom and yet you’re still so stupid?”

“Stupid?” Agatha repeats with disgust, like the word isn’t even in the dictionary.

You nod. “Agatha,” you breathe, affectionately. Agatha feels her world shift. “You know I love you, don’t you? Wanda is only ever going to be my frie—”

Agatha doesn’t let you finish. Couldn’t bear too. She’s always standing on the precipice of something. Always hovering over lines, too impatient to stand back, and your I love you snaps Agatha forward, like she’s been waiting for it for centuries. She kisses you roughly, pushing you back against the wall, and tries to claim it.

I love you, to the person who has never felt loved. She turned her back on love the moment love turned her back on her. She was only a teenager then, realizing that there was not a strength she could have that would make her enough for her mother—for her clan. There was not a person she could be beside herself, and never a version that wasn’t lacking, just out of reach of affection.

Then you. You showed up in Westview, strong enough to break in unaffected, and suspicious of Agatha, suspicious and then knowing, but still caring through it, and Agatha felt herself enough in the moments her mother would have claimed were her weakest; her moments where she was vulnerable and honest.

She kisses you like you’re her testament of her strength, now. Like you’re a testament of just how enough she is. She’s always been wanting, and doesn’t know how to exist without it. Without the yearning of; more, more, more, but as her kisses slow down, turn loving instead of passionate, she thinks for the first time that to exist like this—for the first time at peace, is something she could get used to forever.

You’re breathing heavily when Agatha breaks away, completely flustered and shaken. Agatha feels her heart pick up again, and thinks, no—she’ll always be wanting, and moves in to kiss you again.

You laugh, so joyful and happy—because of her. Because of her—a hand over Agatha’s mouth to stop her. “Are we ever going to talk?” You wonder breathlessly. “About feelings? About where you got that idea about Wanda and me?

Agatha pulls your hand away, smiles devilishly and possessively. “After I’ve had you against every corner of this house, we’ll invite Wanda over and talk over everything you’d like.”

You groan in exasperation, but there’s no protesting when Agatha kisses you next, and from the way you practically fall into the way Agatha’s hand curls loosely around your neck, she doesn’t expect one anytime soon.

[anticosmo13]

Not my Character but it belongs to @Rosatoons on Instagram:) just a little fanart🩷💜👑

[deathbreadart23]

Big Daddy, Lady Ivanka and Peri

Yes, is a Mario Movie reference