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claramelooo · 7 months ago

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CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, babies! It took me a while, but I'm here to brighten up your nights. It's been a long day, I hope you enjoy it.

Half of this chapter is just dirt, the other half is… find out ahahahah

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: +18, smut, degradation, spit

Summary: A passage of time brings a person from the past back into your life

Hey, Now I've masterlist

UNKNOW

The following months passed like a blur of intensity and desire. Your graduation was only weeks away, and the weight of expectations and preparation was nothing compared to the uncontrollable energy that seemed to envelop you and Wanda. The secret you shared was both exhilarating and suffocating, a flame threatening to spiral out of control at any moment.

The hallway was silent, the lights dim, and the atmosphere tense, but none of that mattered when you saw Wanda approaching. The night was cold, but the heat between you made the air feel stifling, as if the world around you had disappeared. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor, but it was Wanda's gaze, the one that consumed you entirely, that made your heart race.

When she got close, time seemed to slow down. The soft smile on her face spoke volumes, more than words ever could, and without a single word, you moved closer, as if there were no other choice. Wanda’s hands gently reached for your neck, and you felt your body instinctively lean toward hers, as though an invisible force was pulling you closer.

The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but quickly turned urgent, as though the need to touch and connect was stronger than anything else. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and you felt the pressure of wanting more, of not wanting to stop. Wanda's mouth moved down to your neck, kissing with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

When she pulled back slightly, her eyes were filled with desire, and you heard her soft whisper in your ear. “Come to my place tonight?” Her words carried a mix of seduction and expectation.

You sighed, still feeling her lips on your skin. “I can’t. It’s the last week of exams, and I have a very demanding and strict professor. I could hate her for it, but she’s lucky she kisses so well,” you said, a playful smile gracing your lips.

Wanda let out a warm laugh, and the sound made your heart race. Her smile was genuine, enchanting, and you couldn’t help but return it. “You know I’m only tougher on you because I see your potential, don’t you, my sweet?” she said, looking at you with overwhelming passion, her gaze setting everything inside you ablaze.

“As for exams, I could give you a private lesson later.” The way she said it, with that seductive tone, made the tension between you spike even higher. Wanda seemed determined to make you cave, and you knew the game was only just beginning.

Her mouth found your neck again, and this time the sensation was even more intense. Gentle kisses, but with a silent urgency. You faltered, feeling your body surrender to the heat and desire.

“Trying to corrupt me, Professor Maximoff?” you murmured, your voice faltering as the pressure in your chest grew. But in that moment, there was no resistance left.

Wanda paused for a moment, looking at you with a mischievous smile on her lips. “If I’m corrupting you, you’re going to love every second of it,” she whispered before claiming your lips again in a kiss that burned like fire.

You met in secret corners whenever you could, as if the universe conspired to bring your bodies together in moments that were never convenient but always felt essential.

The twins had grown used to your presence, in a way that made it seem like you’d always been part of their lives. Mornings at Wanda’s house were filled with lively voices, laughter, and the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway. The routine was comfortable, and your inclusion in it had been so organic that even Wanda hadn’t realized how essential you had become.

“Is Y/n coming over today?” Tommy asked casually, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he flipped through a comic book. His tone was nonchalant, but there was a clear note of expectation in his question.

Wanda, attempting to maintain her composure while buttering toast, raised an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she replied, trying to sound indifferent, but the small smile threatening to surface betrayed her.

“I hope so!” Billy exclaimed, pushing his chair back with enthusiasm. “She always plays video games with me, and honestly, she’s way better than you, Mom.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them. “That’s because I let you win,” she retorted with mock indignation.

“Sure,” Tommy drawled, stretching the word with teenage sarcasm. He laughed and added, as though it were a fact, “Besides, she makes better pancakes than you too.”

“Better pancakes?!” Wanda stopped what she was doing, looking at him with a theatrically offended expression. “I’m your mother, you know? I could very well turn your pancakes into broccoli.”

Billy and Tommy exchanged knowing looks and laughed, clearly unimpressed by the threat. “You’d never do that, Mom,” Tommy said confidently. “And you like Y/n as much as we do.”

Wanda’s laugh was soft but filled with affection. She knew the boys were right, and seeing the bond they had formed with you warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. Your presence brought something to the house she hadn’t realized was missing: a lightness, an almost childlike joy she hadn’t felt in years.

When you arrived that afternoon, the door opened before you could even knock, with Tommy shouting down the hallway, “She’s here! Mom, Y/n’s here!”

Billy appeared right behind him, holding two video game controllers. “Quick, Y/n, you’re my partner today. Mom’s terrible at this game.”

You laughed, slipping off your shoes at the entrance before being practically dragged to the living room. Wanda watched from the kitchen doorway, a small but genuine smile on her lips. You glanced at her, exchanging a look that spoke volumes without saying a word.

The twins didn’t just accept your presence—they embraced it as essential. For Wanda, seeing how you fit into their lives was both frightening and comforting. Because deep down, she knew you weren’t just a visitor—you were already a cornerstone of the family she hadn’t realized she was rebuilding.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of spices and something baking in the oven. Wanda stood with her back to you, her auburn hair neatly draped over her shoulders as she stirred something in a pan. The sight was captivating—her figure bathed in the warm kitchen light, an apron loosely tied around her waist, her movements precise yet carrying that natural touch of chaos that seemed uniquely hers.

You approached from behind, making no sound, until you were close enough to feel the warmth of her body mingling with the heat of the stove. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” You mimicked the casual tone that Tommy and Billy often used, but your voice carried an undertone that shifted the meaning entirely. The playful twist of that last word made Wanda’s fingers pause for a brief moment as she stirred the pan.

She partially turned toward you, raising an eyebrow as a slow smile spread across her lips. Her gaze lingered on you, trailing over every detail with a mix of amusement and something far deeper. “Careful with that tone, my sweet,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with an edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence with every line of your expression. “What? I was just asking, Mommy,” you repeated, your mischievous smile challenging any hint of seriousness.

Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the pan. But you noticed the slight tremor in her shoulders, like she was suppressing either a laugh or something far more intense. “Be a good girl and grab the salt for me,” she said, her tone light, but the glance she cast over her shoulder held a spark that made you pause for a heartbeat.

You complied, but not before letting your hands graze over the fabric of her apron in a slow, deliberate touch, pretending it was an innocent move to reach the cupboard. “Here you go, Mommy,” you handed her the salt with a playful grin, your voice carrying a warmth that neither of you could pretend to ignore.

Wanda took the salt, but instead of turning back to the stove, she faced you fully. Her eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of her gaze made your pulse quicken. She laughed softly, tilting her head slightly as if studying you. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me, darling?” she whispered, her voice dripping with both amusement and warning, the challenge unmistakable.

You leaned in just a little closer, your smile sweet but laced with deliberate provocation. “I never start something I’m not willing to finish.”

Without a word, Wanda reached for you, her hands sliding around your waist with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through your entire body. “Then you’d better be ready for what comes next,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours.

The kiss that followed was anything but controlled. Your hands tangled in her auburn hair, pulling her closer with a hunger you couldn’t disguise. Wanda responded with a low, needy sound that reverberated through you, making your heart pound harder. Her lips moved against yours in a way that demanded everything—every breath, every thought, every piece of you.

Her hands gripped your waist, firm and commanding, as though marking her claim. The contrast between the softness of her touch and the desperate way she held you was intoxicating. Each kiss was a battle—tongues teasing, lips colliding with fervor, both of you pushing and pulling, testing limits and breaking down any pretense of restraint.

Your lungs burned from the lack of air, but neither of you cared. The desire between you was raw, unrelenting, a force neither of you could tame. Wanda pushed you gently against the counter, her body pressed tightly against yours, every curve and heartbeat aligned as if the universe itself demanded it.

“Wanda…” you tried to murmur, your voice breathless, but she deepened the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip before whispering against your mouth.

“Don’t ask me to stop,” she said, her voice rough, husky, and laced with an almost primal urgency.

Your response was immediate—your fingers tightening in her hair, pulling just hard enough to draw a ragged sound from her lips. That sound, desperate and needy, made your entire body ignite. The control she usually exuded was slipping through her fingers, and knowing you were the cause of her unraveling was exhilarating.

“Wanda…” you tried again, your voice barely a whisper, breathless. “The dinner… it’s going to burn.”

“Let it burn,” she replied, a playful yet heated grin tugging at her lips. But then, as if a thought struck her, she pulled back slightly, her eyes still locked on yours, filled with unspoken promises and desires she wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“This is about patience, little one,” she teased, adjusting her tousled hair as she turned her attention back to the stove. The triumphant smirk on her face told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you. But you knew just as well—this wasn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you watched her from behind, stirring the pan as though nothing had happened, you realized with a startling clarity that you were hopelessly, utterly in love. Every gesture, every glance, every playful laugh of hers seemed to take root in your very soul, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Wanda had become your gravity, the very center of your universe.

“Later,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words settled between you like a promise. She glanced over her shoulder with a playful glint in her eyes. “After the boys are in bed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. With Wanda, words were never enough to capture the depth of what you felt.

The moment was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Billy, who leaned casually against the doorway, his expression caught between suspicion and amusement. “You guys sure you don’t need any help with… whatever that was?” His voice held a note of teenage skepticism, his sharp gaze flitting between you and Wanda.

Without missing a beat, Wanda smoothed her hair with a quick gesture and offered a smile that was almost too convincing. “No, sweetheart, everything’s under control,” she said, her voice light and motherly, though you could hear the underlying mischief she worked so hard to mask.

Billy shrugged, his suspicion still lingering as he made his way back to the living room. But not before casting one last wary glance in your direction.

Once he was out of sight, you leaned in closer to Wanda, unable to contain your laughter. “That was close,” you whispered, your amusement clear. But the sly grin she shot your way as she stirred the pot told you that, for Wanda, the thrill of almost getting caught only made things more fun.

The kitchen was bathed in a soft, golden light, the scent of dinner filling the air. From the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Billy and Tommy talking, the clink of dishes still scattered across the table from the meal. It was a peaceful domestic scene, but the weight of something unspoken hung between you all.

Billy was the first to break the silence. His head bowed, fingers toying with a throw pillow on his lap, he finally spoke. “I know it’s better this way, you know? The divorce… it was for the best. But it’s still hard to accept.”

Tommy, sitting beside him with his arms crossed, glanced at you with an expression that seemed to seek answers. “It’s weird. We knew they weren’t happy for a long time. But now that it’s over… it feels more real. More empty.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward to make sure your voice stayed calm and reassuring. “I know it’s not easy, boys,” you began, your gaze soft and steady. “It’s normal to feel this way. You lost something that was part of your life for so long. But sometimes… letting go is the only way to make room for something better.”

Billy looked up at you, his brown eyes reflecting a vulnerability he usually kept hidden. "Do you think it was the best thing for Mom?"

You smiled gently, thinking about how radiant Wanda had seemed lately, despite everything. She was lighter, more present, and her eyes sparkled in a way that felt almost magical. "I think your mom is finding her path," you replied. "And I think she's happier now. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss what was, but... sometimes doing something for herself is the best thing she can do for you, too."

Tommy scoffed, but he didn’t seem annoyed. "She’s been smiling more. Even singing while she cooks. That never used to happen."

Billy nodded, and a small smile began to appear on his face. "She does seem less tired. Like, stronger somehow."

"That’s because she has you," you said, looking at both of them. "You’re what keeps her strong, always have been. But also... she’s letting herself be happy again, and that’s important."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at you, analyzing your every word. "And you have something to do with that, don’t you? We notice. You make her smile like that—like, goofy."

You tried not to laugh, but his comment caught you off guard. "I just want her to be happy, just like you do."

Billy tilted his head thoughtfully, a small smile forming on his lips. "I think that’s what matters then. If she’s happy, and you make her happy... I think we can get used to that."

You froze for a moment, Billy’s words echoing in your mind. He’d said it so naturally, almost casually, but there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that made your heart race. Had he figured it out? Were you and Wanda being too obvious?

"I... I just want the best for her," you responded, your voice slightly lower as you tried to maintain your composure. Your smile was calm, but inside, tension built.

Billy didn’t seem entirely convinced. He shrugged, but the small smile on his lips betrayed that he knew more than he was letting on. "We know," he said, but the glance he exchanged with Tommy said otherwise. Tommy raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply heading toward the kitchen as if the exchange had been insignificant.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as the boys disappeared into the other room. It was impossible not to wonder: how much did they know? Or worse, how much could others notice? You and Wanda had been careful, but the glances, the discreet touches, and the stolen moments might be starting to spill beyond the four walls you believed to be safe.

When you entered the kitchen, Wanda was plating small portions of dessert. Her hair was still tousled, and the smile she gave you was enough to calm the turmoil in your mind—if only for a brief moment.

"Everything okay?" she asked, noticing something in your expression.

"Yeah, of course," you replied, picking up a plate and trying to appear casual. But as the boys began devouring their desserts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the façade was starting to crack.

Had Billy noticed? And if he had, how long would it be before others did too?

Before you could dwell on it, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts. "Dessert’s ready! Hope you still have room."

The twins quickly got up, the heavy conversation seeming to dissolve with the promise of something sweet. As they headed toward the kitchen, you lingered on the couch for a moment, feeling a warm comfort in your chest. They were still adjusting, but deep down, you knew they were beginning to accept, little by little, this new chapter in their lives—and in yours, too.

The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere as rain began to lightly tap against the windows. You were on the couch with Wanda, a glass of wine in hand, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to rise, heating more than just your body. She was beside you, her hair still messy from the day, her eyes gleaming in a way you knew wasn’t just from the wine.

Your conversation flowed easily, as it always did, but there was something in the air—something more intense. Every word seemed to carry an added weight, a current of energy connecting you invisibly.

"You know," Wanda began, looking at her glass, though the soft smile on her lips was impossible to ignore. "The boys adore you. They’re always asking about you. I think, if they could, they’d keep you here forever."

"Yeah?" you replied, trying to sound casual, though her tone made your heart race. "And what about you? Would you keep me here forever, too?"

Wanda laughed, a soft, enchanting sound that made you smile automatically. "You already know the answer to that," she murmured, finally lifting her eyes to meet yours.

The intensity in her gaze made you forget the world for a moment. Or maybe it was the wine, but you knew you had to say what had been stuck in your throat for so long. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you turned fully to her, feeling your face heat up.

"Wanda..." you began, your voice a little lower but filled with sincerity. She tilted her head, curious, and that small, intimate gesture nearly disarmed you. "I... I’m completely in love with you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and every time I’m here, it feels like the whole world makes sense."

Her eyes sparkled, and she placed her glass next to yours. Without saying anything, she leaned in, one of her hands finding its way to your face, her warm fingers gently stroking your skin.

"You know I feel the same way, don’t you?" she said, her voice low, almost a whisper, as her face was so close you could smell the sweet scent of the wine she’d been drinking.

"But I needed to say it," you murmured, your voice almost failing as she leaned even closer. "I needed you to know how much you mean to me... And that you’d keep me here forever. You’re so possessive, aren’t you?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda narrowed her eyes, a dangerous smile forming on her lips. "Possessive?" she repeated, her voice soft but laced with a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don’t look at me like that. You know you are," you continued, the playful smile growing. "I see the way you look at me, like I’m something that only belongs to you."

She tilted her head, her fingers gliding across your cheek with a tenderness that completely contrasted the intensity in her eyes. "And aren’t you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but Wanda was quicker. She grasped your chin firmly, tilting your head slightly back, forcing you to hold her gaze. "If you think you can play games with me, my cheeky girl, you’re very mistaken."

"Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep the defiant tone, but your voice faltered under her sharp gaze.

"Yes," she murmured, leaning in until your lips almost touched. "Because I don’t just want you forever... I’ll keep you forever. And no matter how much you tease, in the end, you always come back to me. Isn’t that right?"

You tried to respond, but the words disappeared as her fingers slid into your hair, tugging slightly as she brushed her lips against yours, never fully kissing them.

"See?" she continued, her voice a husky whisper. "Even now, you can’t resist. You’re trembling for me. That’s how I like you: vulnerable and completely mine."

The defiant smile you tried to maintain was quickly crumbling, but still, you whispered, "Who said I’m trembling for you?"

Wanda let out a low, provocative laugh. "Oh, darling," she murmured, her fingers still in your hair as she finally pressed her lips to yours, the kiss intense and possessive, as if she were proving a point.

When you pulled apart, both of you were breathless, and she smiled triumphantly. "Still want to play hard to get, or shall we show the world the permanent marks I’ve left on you?"

You looked theatrically at your own body, feigning innocence. "Permanent marks? I don’t see any."

Your heart pounded fiercely, and you knew there was no denying it. Not after this. Not with Wanda looking at you as if you were the center of her universe.

The kiss had turned into something far more intense. Wanda’s lips moved against yours with a hunger that seemed to grow with every second, as if the entire world could vanish, and the two of you would still be there, utterly consumed by each other.

Your hands found their way back into her red hair, tangling your fingers through the silky strands, pulling just enough to elicit a low, needy sound from Wanda’s throat. That sound only fueled the fire already burning inside you. Her hands gripped your waist, firm and possessive, her touch sending a shiver through your skin, as if she was carving her claim into you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. A thin strand of saliva still connected your lips, glistening under the soft light of the room. Wanda’s eyes — green and deep — were blown wide with desire and something more profound, a look so intense it sent chills down your spine.

She leaned in, her mouth brushing against your ear, and in a voice husky and loaded with intent, she whispered through clenched teeth:

"Bedroom. Now."

Your heart raced at her command, sweeter and more irresistible than any promise. Without a second thought, you stood up, your hand entwined with hers as you led her down the dark hallway, the hurried sound of footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

The world outside seemed to vanish. Only the anticipation and the heat between you remained real.

Wanda pushed you against the bedroom door before you could even fully reach it. The soft thud reverberated through the room, and the cold wood against your back contrasted sharply with the feverish warmth radiating from her. Your breathing was uneven, but so was hers. Wanda’s gaze burned — predatory, filled with promises — as if nothing could stop her now that she had decided you were hers.

"You’re such a naughty little girl…" Her voice, low and laced with her accent, slid over you like velvet. "Always thinking you can get away with it, don’t you?"

"I didn’t…" you started, trying to regain some control of the situation, but Wanda was already on you, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you.

"Shh…" she whispered, her eyes blazing with intensity. "I see you. All this bravado… this courage to challenge me." She smiled slowly, dangerously. "But I’m going to teach you something, dorogaya. I’m the one in charge here."

Before you could respond, Wanda captured your mouth again, the kiss now fierce, almost brutal. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting softly, and you gasped against her. Your hands reached out, seeking to reclaim some control, sliding to her shoulders, but Wanda only chuckled against your lips.

"Oh… trying to fight back? How cute." She tugged on your hair a little harder, tilting your head back to expose your neck. Her lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along your skin. "But that won’t work. You know that, don’t you?"

"Maybe I like to fight," you whispered, though your voice was already trembling, nearly pleading.

Wanda raised her head, locking eyes with you, a gleam of dark amusement and challenge in her expression. "Oh. Do you, now? Let’s see how long you can last, little warrior."

With a swift movement, Wanda grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, holding your wrists with a controlled yet firm grip. The weight of the gesture sent your pulse racing, and you struggled, but it was futile. She had total control.

"You have no idea what you’ve awakened, Y/n," Wanda murmured, her voice deep and dripping with desire. "I’ve waited for this. Waited for you for so long. And now that I have you… there’s no turning back."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear again. "You will surrender, my clever little slut. You’ll beg. I want to hear you say… that you belong to me."

Your entire body trembled, a mix of nervous anticipation and pure, unrelenting need. "I…"

"I love how, the more you try to resist, the more your body betrays you," Wanda said with a soft laugh, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Look at you, already shaking for me. Your mouth says one thing… but your body? It’s already answering me."

She released one of your hands, only to let her palm slide slowly down your body, exploring every curve. Her fingers stopped at your waist, squeezing possessively, making you gasp once again.

"Every sound you make, every shiver… it’s mine," Wanda whispered. "You’re my precious little doll. My masterpiece. And I’m going to shape you exactly how I want."

You tried to hold on to your defiant stance, but as Wanda’s hand traveled further down, stopping at your thigh and creeping upward, a needy moan escaped your lips.

"Ah, there it is…" Wanda smiled, satisfied. "That’s the truth, isn’t it? You like this. You want to be guided. To be dominated."

She brought her mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time, but with an intensity that conveyed everything she wanted without needing words.

"Now," Wanda said, her eyes gleaming with a subtle red glow, her tone firm and irresistible. "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed."

Your body obeyed before your mind could protest. Something in her tone, in the natural authority Wanda exuded, made any remaining resistance evaporate.

As you settled on the bed, Wanda stood at the edge, watching you as if she were about to devour you. Slowly, she removed her coat, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her bare shoulders and the plunging neckline of her dress. Then, she crawled onto the bed, moving toward you with predatory grace.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" she asked, her voice sweet but laced with malice. "Or would you rather find out what happens when you try to challenge the only person who can make you truly scream?"

Before you could answer, Wanda captured your lips again, and the world around you vanished.

Her lips claimed yours with renewed intensity, each kiss a reminder that you were entirely at her mercy. When you instinctively tried to move, to regain some semblance of control, Wanda grabbed your wrists again, pinning them to the bed with both hands this time.

"You said you like to fight," she murmured, her dangerous whisper brushing against your mouth, "but let’s be honest… you like losing even more."

Your body arched against her in response, every nerve on high alert. You wanted to deny it, to say you still had control, but the truth was undeniable: Wanda had already won.

She traced her hands slowly down your arms to your shoulders, her fingers leaving a burning path of fire wherever they touched. "Every time you try to resist, it only makes me want to break you more," Wanda whispered, her gaze never wavering from yours. "You know that, don't you? That I will get what I want."

"You're so arrogant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and teasing, but it came out softer than you'd intended.

Her dangerous smile deepened. "And you're so stubborn… But look at you. Already panting. Already begging with your body, even if your mouth refuses to admit it."

Her hands slid down to your waist again, pulling you closer with a possessive grip that made your skin tingle. "Do you know what I love most about you, Y/n? That rebellious streak of yours. That little brat who thinks she can challenge me. But do you know what I love even more?"

She leaned in until her lips were a mere breath away from your ear. "The moment you break."

Your heart raced, and you bit your lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape. But Wanda noticed. Of course she did.

"Oh… you're such a clever little slut, aren't you?" she teased, her fingers drifting dangerously close to the hem of your clothes. "But that won't last, my dear. I'll make you beg. Stuff you so full you’ll turn into my dumb little whore. And I’ll love every second of it."

You tried to squirm away, to move your arms and legs in resistance. But Wanda only laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin. "No. You're going to stay exactly where I want you. Do you know why?"

She lifted her head just enough to look directly into your eyes. The intensity of her gaze burned through you, making your whole body tremble.

"Because you’re mine," Wanda declared, her voice firm, unquestionable. "My little doll. My toy. My masterpiece."

She grasped your chin, pulling your face toward hers, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no room for resistance. Wanda wasn’t asking. She was taking.

When she finally pulled back, a satisfied smirk played on her lips. "Ah, look at you… so beautiful when you’re vulnerable." Her thumb ran over your bottom lip, pressing lightly. "So ready to be molded."

She shifted just enough to straddle you, pinning your legs beneath her weight. "Now, Y/n… tell me. Who’s in charge here?"

You tried to hold on to the last shred of control you thought you had. But Wanda’s gaze burned into you, melting any defenses you still clung to.

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk darkening. "Say it," she commanded, her voice low, dangerous. "Or I’ll make you say it."

"You…" Your voice faltered, trembling. Your pride crumbled beneath her dominance. "You’re in charge."

Wanda’s smile widened, her eyes flashing red for a brief moment. "Good girl." Her fingers traced your cheek as if admiring a work of art. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me."

Your body obeyed before your mind could process the command. Wanda’s hands trailed down your body, her fingers exploring your skin with a precision that was almost torturous.

"I’m going to make sure you remember this," she whispered. "I’m going to mark you in a way no one else ever can erase. Because you belong to me, and I belong to you. Now and always."

When her touch finally reached where you needed her most, your whole body ignited, and any lingering resistance was consumed by the burning desire only Wanda could provoke.

"Good girl," Wanda whispered again, her lips brushing your ear as her fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your aching core.

The atmosphere between you shifted the moment you shot her that defiant look. Something thick and electric brewed in the air, like a storm about to crash down on you.

"Always so full of attitude, aren’t you?" Wanda said, crossing her arms as she tilted her head slightly, her predatory gaze locked on you. "Should I remind you of your place, little doll?"

You couldn’t help the mischievous grin that tugged at your lips. "You can try…"

Oh, that was the breaking point. The familiar crimson glow flickered around Wanda’s eyes, and in an instant, she pounced. Before you could react, you were pressed into the bed, her hands firm on your shoulders.

"Ah… my little rebel," Wanda murmured, her voice low and dripping with desire and control. "Do you really think you can play with me and walk away unscathed?"

The blush on your face deepened as you tried to keep up your rebellious front, but the way her hands gripped you, the sheer authority radiating from her, made your legs feel weak.

"You said you like to fight," she continued, her fingers trailing slowly over your face, "but I think what you like even more is being reminded of your place."

Your breath hitched. You knew you should resist, keep teasing her, but the weight of Wanda’s dominance over you was overwhelming. Your thoughts began to blur, dissolving into pure need.

"You should be a good little pet for me," Wanda whispered, her fingers sliding torturously slow over your body. "Submissive. Sweet. So obedient."

The sound of her voice — husky, commanding, dripping with promises — made your heart race. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a trembling whimper.

"Oh… Please, please," you whimpered, barely recognizing your own voice, soft and yielding. "Show me my place. I’ll be so good for you, mommy…"

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, a deep instinct finally breaking free from within you.

Wanda chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "Ah, there she is," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with delight. "My good little girl, ready to be taught."

With a firm motion, Wanda pulled you up and positioned you across her lap, sitting on the edge of the bed. She settled you over her thighs effortlessly, as if she’d already imagined this moment a thousand times before.

"Now," Wanda said, her hand gliding slowly down your back to your waist, "let’s get rid of these, shall we?"

With a decisive tug, she removed your pants, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool air of the room. The contrast between her warmth and the room’s chill made you shiver slightly against her lap.

"Always so defiant," Wanda murmured, running her hand lightly over your skin, tracing the curve of your ass. "But I’ll mold you. I’ll break you down and build you back up, exactly the way I want."

Her hand came down with a sharp slap, the sting reverberating through your body. You gasped, your hips instinctively pressing back toward her touch.

"That’s right," Wanda said softly, her voice thick with approval. "Good girl. Let mommy take care of you."

She ran her hand gently over your exposed skin, a touch that was both comforting and threatening. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Because you need to be reminded…” Wanda gave your buttock a light slap, nothing more than a teasing touch. “Of your place.” She took the opportunity to slide her fingers through your wet folds, making you push against her. “Hmmm, eager…”

The first slap came for real. Not too hard, but firm enough to make your skin sting slightly. You let out a moan, surprised by the intensity.

“This is just the beginning,” Wanda said, her hand gently caressing the spot where she had hit. “Tell me, baby doll. How many do you deserve?”

“I… don’t… know,” you murmured, your voice shaking with anticipation.

“Oh, then I’ll decide,” Wanda stated, with a satisfied smile. “I like this better.”

Another slap. Then another. With each slap, the heat on your skin grew, and with it, the need growing inside you.

“You’re becoming so beautiful for me,” Wanda praised, her voice soft and mesmerizing. “Look how your skin is blushing. That’s how you should be—marked by me, remembering who you belong to.”

You writhed on her lap, each slap followed by a caress that made your body beg for more.

“Please…” you whispered, barely audible.

“Please what?” Wanda asked, her tone teasing, when she pronounces the t with rigidity. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to… be your good little girl.”

Wanda laughed again, pleased. “Oh, you’re learning fast. But we still have a long way to go, baby doll.”

She slapped again, harder this time, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hand slowly slid down to your thighs, parting them slightly. “Now,” Wanda murmured, leaning down until her lips brushed your ear, “show me how good you can be for me.” Wanda caressed your buttocks gently, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the already flushed skin, while you breathed heavily, trying to control the tremors that ran through your body.

She seemed to absorb your every reaction—every writhe, every sigh, every muffled moan. Her voice was low and gravelly, but her control was absolute.

“Beg,” Wanda said, her hand gliding lazily over your skin. “I want to hear you say you need this.” You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast you could feel the blood pounding in your ears.

“Wanda, please—” A firm slap cut through the air before you could finish your sentence, tearing a desperate moan from your lips.

“No,” she corrected, her voice thick with authority. “Try again. And use that title I love so much. Come on, baby doll.” Your face burned with embarrassment and excitement. The words caught in your throat, but you knew she wouldn’t give in until she heard them.

“Please… Mommy,” you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. “I need… I need you to teach me. I need to be your good girl.”

A satisfied smile played across Wanda’s lips. “Oh, that’s better.” She ran her fingers along your back, slowly rising to the base of your neck. “But you still sound shy. I want to hear you really beg.”

Another slap. Harder this time. Your skin was hot and sensitive, and the shock of the impact tore a sob of pleasure from your throat.

“Please, Mommy,” you moaned, your voice finally breaking under the weight of need. “Show me my place. Teach me. I want to be everything you want. Please do this to me.”

Wanda laughed softly, the sound rumbling like a caress along your spine. She loved watching you slowly break under the weight of your own submission, your resistance dissolving into pure surrender.

“Good little girl,” she murmured, her words a balm and a promise. “Now. Look how beautiful you are when you stop fighting and just accept who you are to me.”

Her hands moved again, one gripping your waist tightly while the other traced the contours of your buttocks, teasing the sensitive skin.

"Will you be my good girl?" Wanda asked, her voice low but relentless.

"Yes," you answered immediately, without thinking. "Yes, Mommy. Please. I'm yours."

"Mmm…" She seemed to savor your words, as if each syllable was a confirmation of her ownership over you. "Mine. Only mine. I'm going to sculpt you exactly how I want. Every sound you make, every mark on your skin… all of it belongs to me now."

Another slap, slower, almost gentle, but still firm enough to send a shiver through your body.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Wanda teased, her hand moving down to your thighs, parting them slowly. "You're so wet for me. So eager to please."

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.

"I want to hear it," she insisted, her voice an irresistible command.

"Tell me you're my good little girl."

"I am," you gasped, your entire body shaking with need. "I'm your good little girl, Mommy. Please, please… Touch me. Teach me. Do whatever you want with me."

Wanda ran her fingers over your warm skin, the tips touching where you wanted them most, but not giving you the relief your body begged for.

"You're so desperate," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear as her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Desperate to be guided. Desperate to be possessed."

You nodded frantically, your face buried against her thighs. "Yes, please… I need you."

Wanda laughed again, satisfied. "Oh, I know you do, baby doll. And I'll give you everything you want. But only when I decide you deserve it."

Her promise was as much torture as it was a gift, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were exactly where you were supposed to be: at her feet, vulnerable and surrendered.

“Thank you for this.” Wanda demands, thrusting her fingers inside you, making you exasperated. In that moment, you really want to thank her like never before.

“Fuck. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Mommy. I’m so grateful— OH FUCK,” you groan in pleasure, and hear Wanda hum in approval.

“There’s my girl,” she says, and thrusts deeper inside you.

You moan, drawn out and needy for the woman who expresses pain on her face. Wanda feels a pressure between her legs that she knows exactly what it is and how to stop.

The woman pulls out of you, making you protest. “Mommy prepared something special today. For you. For us.”

The feeling of being submissive to Wanda was too intense to be understood in words. When she pulled away for a moment, you felt the emptiness left by the heat of her body, a loss that made your chest tighten immediately.But when you tried to lift your face to see her, everything around you dissolved into darkness.

It was as if her own magic had wrapped your eyes in an invisible blindfold—there was nothing you could see except the pulsing darkness, as if it were a reminder of her presence, even though she wasn’t touching you.

Your heart raced. The absence of vision made every other sense amplify. The sound of Wanda’s soft footsteps, the brush of her breath against your skin, even her subtle scent—something that mingled woodsmoke and wildflowers—felt so much more intense.

When you tried to move, you found you couldn’t. Your wrists and ankles were bound by something invisible, as if magical roots had wrapped themselves around your limbs, keeping you immobile, completely vulnerable and at her mercy. The shiver that ran down your spine was so strong that you shivered.

“What… did you do… to me?” you managed to mutter, but even forming the words felt like too much. Your mouth was dry, your voice a broken whisper.

Across the room, Wanda laughed softly—that soft, dangerous sound that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn with anticipation.

“I put you exactly where you were supposed to be,” she replied, her voice a whisper filled with power. “Blinded. Trapped. Completely mine.”

Your breathing came faster, almost panting. Her every word seemed to carry weight and intent, as if she were branding you deeply, from the inside out. You tried to move again, but each attempt was futile—you were perfectly trapped, vulnerable in a way you had never been before.

Wanda moved closer, and you felt her fingertips glide across your skin. It was a light touch, almost tender, but it left a trail of heat in its wake. She started on your face, tracing the contours of your jaw, until she reached your neck.

“You’re not scared,” Wanda murmured, a hint of surprise in her voice, but there was a hidden satisfaction there. “You should be shaking. But you’re not, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, your mouth half open as you tried to breathe. “No… I’m not.”

“And why?” Wanda asked, her fingertips now moving to your shoulder, then down your exposed back.

“Because…” You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. But there was only one truth. “Because I trust you.”

The words hung in the air like a sacred confession. Wanda was silent for a moment, before she laughed softly again.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “But don’t think that will save you, because trust doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

You felt the tips of her nails press lightly into your skin, just enough to leave a mark.

“It means you’ve given yourself away. And now…” Wanda paused for a moment, her fingers slowly running down your waist, down to where your buttocks were still exposed. “Now you’re going to feel exactly what it means to be mine.”

Your entire body trembled beneath her touch, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

She leaned in again, and the touch of her lips against your ear made you shiver. “You begged me to show you your place,” Wanda continued, her voice a low purr. “Now, baby doll… I’m going to teach you. And you’re going to appreciate every second of it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a breathless moan as you felt her hands explore your body again, this time without any restraint or hesitation. Wanda was in absolute control, and you knew you were about to be pushed to a limit you didn't even know existed.

And you wanted this.

You needed this.

You needed her.

While the woman was away, you could hear the sound of latex sliding over her skin. The strap-on Wanda was wearing wasn't as big as she wanted—but she was thinking about you. It must be pleasurable for both you and her. She wants to break you in little by little, wants to see how far you can take her cock.

Wanda's warm hand and black-stained fingers wrap around the base of the strap-on, connecting it directly to her clit. She lets out a needy sigh, walking back to the bed.

You feel the woman's knees sink into the mattress beside you, each movement calculated, a silent dance that makes the air around you feel thick and charged. The weight of anticipation was piling on your shoulders, making your heart hammer in your chest. Not knowing what would happen next should have been terrifying… but it wasn’t.

It was intoxicating. The uncertainty left you on fire, the unknown awakening something you hadn’t known existed. The lack of control over your own body, over your desires, was something you had never imagined you could desire until now—and yet, here you were, yearning for more.

Then Wanda’s nose lightly brushed the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply of your essence. The warm air that escaped her lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re delicious,” she murmured, almost like a secret. The tone of her voice, low and gravelly, seemed to slide through you like an electric current. “So soft…” Her mouth found your cheek in a slow, wet kiss that left a trail of heat and a shiver of anticipation. It wasn’t just a touch—it was a declaration. A claim.

“Speak any word to me, pretty girl,” Wanda whispered against your skin. It was a command, but there was a dark sweetness in her tone, as if she were guiding you, encouraging you to surrender. Your throat was dry, and when you finally found your voice, it came out hoarse, as if it had been scratched by the intensity of the moment.

“Crimson,” you whispered, almost breathless. The word came naturally, as if it were the only possible choice. Crimson, because everything around you seemed to be wrapped in red—the deep tone of Wanda’s magic, the heat that spread through you, the desire that burned in your veins.

The scent of sandalwood hung in the air, a constant reminder of her presence, of the invisible force that held you captive. Crimson, because you were in a spiral where your deepest reverie had a name and a color.

Wanda was silent for a moment, letting the word hang between you. Then, a slow smile spread across her lips, and you could feel her chest vibrate slightly as she murmured,

"Mmmm… poetic."

She pressed her lips against your jaw, sliding her mouth to the corner of your lips, never completing the kiss, just teasing. “When you say that word, everything stops. Do you understand, my girl?”

You nodded, breathless, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with that.

“I need to hear you,” she said firmly, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your hip. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll use it if you need to.”

“I understand, Mommy,” you replied, your voice almost a moan, full of anticipation.

“Good girl,” Wanda purred, satisfied.

You both moaned as Wanda rubbed the tip of the strap-on against your hot, needy clit. “It’s going to be glorious, baby. And I’m going to feel everything… every inch of you.” The sound she makes is like a small growl—pressing her cock to your entrance, making you gasp in surprise.

“Wanda… this is…” You can barely speak, not when she’s thrusting inside you—the slow, slow pace only makes you want more.

“This, my dear. This is magic.”

And when Wanda pushes it all inside you, you can see a pulsing vein in her neck. The woman lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh…” She exasperates. “It’s so warm in here, my dear. You’re holding Mommy so well…” She groans through her teeth, as if she’s trying hard to contain herself.

Wanda has always hated the word. Magic. Witch. Sorceress. Monster. Those labels carried centuries of fear and contempt, making her existence a constant curse. She’d spent so long hating this part of herself, trying to control what couldn’t be contained, trying to fit into molds that were never meant for her.

But now?

Now, with you beneath her—vulnerable, surrendered, completely at the mercy of her hands and her will—it all felt different. She wasn’t a freak. She wasn’t a walking curse. She wasn’t a monster.

She was divine.

Every touch her body absorbed as if Wanda were imprinting her essence on you. Every breath she took seemed to feed the magic within her, an unceasing current of power that pulsed in the air around her. The way you responded to her—moaning her name like a prayer, offering yourself without reservation—made Wanda feel that, for the first time, her magic wasn’t a weapon, but a gift.

Blessed.

That word went through her like a lightning bolt. Wanda felt blessed. Not by the magic itself, but by the way she was using it now—to claim you, to fill you until you leaked her juices inside you. Her mark was on you, invisible to the world, but burning beneath your skin. And it made all the hatred she had once carried disappear.

“How are you feeling, my little doll?” Her tone is reverent, almost as if you were precious enough to deserve to be Wanda’s obsession, but not enough to not be broken by her. Never for that matter. “What does it feel like to have Mommy’s cock in your pretty girl pussy?”

“Mommy, I—” Your voice cracked as you felt Wanda move inside you, hitting a spot that was previously unknown. “OH. Mommy! Do that again! Please, pretty please.” You heard yourself say in a ridiculously needy voice.

“I love it when my little girl begs. You look so pretty. Fuck!”Wanda moans, thrusting her hips further, almost fusing her skin with yours. “Open your mouth.”

And you do, of course you do. All your mind can think about is pleasing the woman above you—as if it were your life’s purpose. When Wanda sees you with your little mouth open, she can't resist slapping your cheek—naturally red, she grabs your chin and pulls it towards her, making you arch your back off the mattress.

She lets a thick string of her own saliva slip out of her mouth, making you receive it. "Swallow it."

And you do, nodding, like the good girl of Wanda that you are. "Thank you, mommy."

And that seems to be the end of something for the woman, who speeds up her thrusts, bringing a loud moan to your lips. "So polite. Mommy's little slut takes her cock like a pro, doesn't she? I'm going to cum so hard inside you. You want mommy to get you pregnant, huh? Want mommy to put her sperm in your little belly?" The movements were frantic and sloppy, Wanda was close.

“YES, YES, YES! Get me pregnant, Mommy! Fill your stupid bitch with your cum, Mommy!” You screamed with the intensity of what you felt, your voice interrupted by moans that seemed to come from a place so deep that not even you knew existed.

Your body arched involuntarily, every muscle tensed as Wanda explored every inch of you as if it were rightfully hers. Your eyes shed tears of pure pleasure, running silently down your hot cheeks. It wasn’t pain — it was surrender. It was the unbearable weight of vulnerability, of the raw need to be possessed by someone who knew exactly what to do with every inch of you.

“Mine…” She seemed to savor the word with devotion. And when Wanda began to massage your clit with her thumb, it was over. “Cum for Mommy. Smear my cock with your smart little slut juices, I want all of you.” You didn’t answer her with words. There was no room for coherent thoughts, only the raw, urgent need that took over every cell in your body. Instead, a loud moan escaped your lips—a hoarse sound, full of pleasure and submission.

Your legs trembled involuntarily around Wanda, as your body sought more contact, more proximity, more of her.

Your hips moved on their own, seeking the rhythm that Wanda dictated, as if your entire body had surrendered to the silent melody that only she played. Your fingers grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her hair tightly as your nails scratched the delicate skin. Wanda let out a low growl in response, a sound that made your belly tighten even more, desire pulsing in every exposed nerve.

Then, as if you could no longer bear the distance between you, you arched your back, bringing your bodies closer until there was no more space between you. With an urgent movement, you pressed your mouth to hers, muffling the moan that threatened to escape. It was an uncontrolled, desperate kiss, full of need and hunger. There was nothing soft or delicate about that moment. It was rough. Wild.

Wanda kissed you back with the same intensity, her teeth scraping against your lips as her firm hands slid down, holding your waist with possessive strength. You felt her fingers leave marks that would surely remain on your skin for days—a reminder that you belonged to her.

When you finally broke apart to breathe, Wanda looked at you as if she wanted to devour every part of you. Her eyes glowed with the red light of her magic, but there was something else there: obsession, adoration, and an insatiable desire.

Wanda smiled almost predatorily, her eyes half-closed as she traced every curve of your face, as if she were recording that moment in her memory.

“Ah, my little princess…” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear again. “I don’t intend to stop with you. I’ll never let you go.”

And with that, her hands moved again, and you knew you were about to be taken even deeper into that addictive spiral of pleasure and possession.

[...]

The prom night was filled with smiles and animated voices. You were surrounded by your friends, all laughing and toasting with cups of soda and glasses of faux champagne. It was the end of an era—years of studying finally behind you.

"And who would've thought we'd survive to this point?" Yelena joked, raising her glass in an exaggerated toast. "To those who said we wouldn't make it."

Kate raised hers too. "And especially to Y/N, who, besides being the nerd of the group, held our hands through the process."

"She didn’t just hold our hands; she carried us on her back," Darcy corrected, pulling you into a tight hug.

Bucky, always a bit more reserved, gave a soft smile. "Whatever you decide to do from now on, Y/N, it's going to be spectacular. You know that, right?"

You smiled at them, your heart warmed by their support. But even surrounded by your friends, your eyes searched for someone else. Across the room, near the drink table, Wanda stood casually leaning against it, a glass in her hand.

She looked calm, but you knew her well enough to read past that—her gaze was fixed on you, as if you were the only person in the room. Every detail of her expression was loaded with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

"Y/N?" Kate nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your trance.

"Oh, sorry," you said, laughing, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Agatha appeared beside Wanda, observing the exchange with a smile only she could carry—mischievous and full of insinuations.

"You do realize you're giving it all away, don't you?" Agatha teased, casually picking up a glass of punch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wanda murmured, her eyes still locked on you. But her voice betrayed any attempt at denial; it was laden with emotion.

"Oh, please, dear." Agatha chuckled, swirling the glass theatrically. "You're practically shouting it for anyone who cares to notice. With that look? Even a blind person could tell you want to devour that girl."

Wanda rolled her eyes, a blush inevitably creeping up her cheeks, though she maintained her posture. "I'm just... observing."

"Sure, sure," Agatha retorted with a sly grin. "Observing from inches away, tracking her every move like a predator about to pounce. Is that 'just observing'? Because, to me, it looks like something else entirely..."

"Agatha," Wanda cut her off, a warning tone in her voice, though she couldn't completely hide the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Fine, fine." Agatha raised her free hand in mock surrender, but the grin didn't fade. "You know me, I can't resist a good tease. But, on a different note, I saw what you sent me."

Wanda finally tore her gaze from you, turning to Agatha. Her tone grew more serious. "Did you manage to identify anything?"

Agatha took a sip of the punch, deliberately pausing before replying. "Not yet, but..." Her gaze shifted to you momentarily, studying with renewed interest. "The necklace belongs to her, doesn't it?" She tilted her head toward you.

"Yes." Wanda’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the wineglass. "How is that possible, Agatha? I've never seen that necklace before. Not in any of the lives I've shared with her. And that..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "That worries me."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her expression turning serious for the first time. "You know what that means, don't you? If it's something even you don’t recognize, then it’s something... different. Perhaps something that doesn’t belong in your usual narrative."

"And that's exactly what scares me." Wanda's voice was low but firm, a dark determination threading her words. "The unknown can bring surprises. For ordinary people, maybe good ones. But for me? The unknown only brings risks. And I can't—won't—risk anything that involves her."

Agatha remained silent for a moment, studying Wanda carefully. Then she set her glass down on the nearby table and lightly touched Wanda's arm. "You'll figure it out. We will. But remember, Wanda: no matter how powerful you are, you can’t control everything. Not even when it comes to her."

"That’s not an option," Wanda replied, her eyes returning to you as if you were the only light in the darkness. "I need to protect her, Agatha. No matter what it takes."

"Be careful what you're willing to sacrifice," Agatha murmured, but her voice was drowned out by the laughter around you.

Wanda simply pressed her lips together, resuming her watchful gaze. The idea that something beyond her reach could affect you was intolerable. And if the necklace meant something greater, Wanda already knew: she would face whatever came. And she would win. Because losing you was not an option.

[...]

In a busy afternoon, boxes were scattered everywhere, and you barely had time to breathe as you tried to organize the chaos. Still, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Wanda, who was clearly far more anxious than you.

She was everywhere at once—snapping her fingers discreetly to make boxes move on their own, floating small objects to their proper places, all with an energy that seemed ready to burst.

"Wanda," you called, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched her rearrange the same bookshelf for the third time. "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed," she replied hastily, adjusting a picture frame to the exact center of the nightstand.

"Of course, you are," you said, crossing your arms and watching as a lamp floated to the other side of the room.

She paused for a moment, hands on her hips, biting her lower lip as she looked around. Her gaze was pure nervousness, but there was something else—a glimmer of happiness that warmed the room.

"I just... want everything to be perfect," she admitted, her eyes finally meeting yours.

You approached her, holding her hands and pulling her gently closer. "It’s perfect because it’s with you. It doesn’t matter where we are, Wanda. As long as it’s with you, it’ll be enough."

Wanda sighed, relaxing a little, but the smile on her face still carried a touch of anxiety. "I just... thinking about you being here. Sleeping beside me every night. Here, with the boys, being a real part of my life..."

"Our life," you corrected softly, and she smiled more confidently.

Billy appeared at the bedroom door, giving you a cheerful grin. "You’ll make pancakes with smiley faces tomorrow, right? Because, you know, Mom tries, but... it’s not the same."

Wanda feigned indignation, but the joy in her eyes was undeniable.

"I think I can manage that," you replied, laughing.

When Billy disappeared, Wanda looked at you with a small but deeply emotional smile. "They love you, you know that, right?"

You nodded, pulling her into a hug. "And I love them. And I love you."

She held you tightly, her anxiety gradually melting into something calmer, more stable. You could feel her heartbeat against yours, and for a moment, everything in the world felt exactly as it should be.

After hours of unpacking boxes, you collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but restless. Something was missing—something important.

"I can’t find my necklace," you murmured, breaking the silence.

Wanda, who was finishing putting away kitchen utensils, looked at you. The tone in your voice immediately caught her attention. "The necklace? The one with the sun pendant?"

You nodded, running a hand over your bare neck. "Yes. Have you seen it? I’ve searched all the boxes and bags, but it’s... gone."

Wanda froze for a moment before disappearing from the room. When she returned, she was holding the necklace, the pendant softly glowing under the light.

“My sorceress-hero. My ‘sorhero!,’” you exclaimed with relief, running to wrap her in a tight embrace. Her touch was comforting, and for a brief moment, the world seemed right again.

Wanda, however, held the object a little more firmly than usual. She felt the strange magic emanating from the pendant—a signature she didn’t recognize, yet it pulsed unsettlingly. She knew she shouldn’t hand it over so quickly, but she also knew she needed to hear its story.

Reluctantly, she let you take it, watching closely as you held the necklace against your chest as if it were sacred.

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Wanda remarked, studying your expression. “Is there a special story behind it?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a shadow of sadness. You took a deep breath, holding the pendant delicately. “I… lost my parents when I was four,” you began, your voice low but steady. “It was a fire. Everything was gone that night... everything. I barely remember them, just flashes and the feeling of heat and smoke. The only thing that survived was this necklace.”

Wanda frowned slightly, absorbing your words. “And you don’t know how you survived the fire?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. The firefighters said it was a miracle I made it because by the time they arrived, the house was nearly ashes. But… here I am. I like to think it’s some kind of charm. Something that carries a piece of my parents with me.”

Wanda nodded slowly, but the unease in her chest grew. The necklace wasn’t just a sentimental artifact—she was sure of that. She knew enough about magic to recognize when something was extraordinary, and that pendant radiated a peculiar energy, both protective and ominous.

“It’s a beautiful and tragic story,” Wanda said softly, trying to mask her concern. “But I understand why it’s so important to you.”

You smiled faintly, putting the necklace back around your neck. “Now that I have it with me, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Wanda held your hand for a moment, her touch firm but comforting. “And it always will be. I promise.”

As you relaxed on the couch again, distracted by plans for your first day at work, Wanda lingered for a moment. The guilt over what she was hiding began to weigh on her, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the implied threat of that pendant.

She had to uncover the truth—what the necklace truly meant, why it survived the fire, and, above all, what it said about you. And she would do whatever it took to protect you. Always.

[...]

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the familiar sound of toast popping out of the toaster and the morning chatter of the boys arguing over who would get to school faster. You sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, trying to calm the anxiety twisting your stomach.

Wanda was beside you, slicing fruit with an apparent calm, but you noticed the quick glances she kept throwing your way, as if she were monitoring you closely.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Billy said suddenly, sliding a buttered piece of toast your way. “People are going to love you. I mean, we love you.”

“Exactly,” Tommy added, his mouth full of cereal. “And if they don’t, it’s because they have terrible taste.”

You smiled, their warm words easing your tension a little. “Thank you, boys. That means a lot.”

Wanda, however, wasn’t content with just words of encouragement. Setting the knife in the sink, she approached, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed as she looked at you with a mix of seriousness and tenderness.

“Listen here,” she began, her tone calm but carrying that firmness that made your spine straighten. “If anyone’s mean to you, if anything bothers you, you call me or text me. Got it?”

The protective yet slightly threatening tone made you raise an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to protect me, Avenger?”

“I am,” she replied without hesitation, her eyes sparking with a determination that made your heart race. “And not just because I can. It’s because you’re mine. And no one has the right to make you feel less than amazing.”

The boys exchanged knowing glances before Billy muttered, “Here comes Mama Bear...”

Wanda glanced at them, but the smile that slipped from her lips softened any attempt at reprimand.

You chuckled softly, standing and walking over to her, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Wanda. Really. I needed to hear that.”

She held your hand for a moment, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll always have someone in your corner. Me. Don’t forget that.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a lighter mood, and as you left the house for your first day of work, you couldn’t help but glance back, seeing Wanda and the boys waving from the door. No matter how nervous you felt, you knew that, come what may, you had a home filled with love and support waiting for you.

The sound of your footsteps echoed through the impeccably polished hallways as you followed Sharon, the school secretary, trying to keep your nerves in check. She spoke animatedly about how excited the staff was to meet you, but you barely heard her. The first-day jitters were mingling with a growing curiosity.

When you reached the office door, Sharon knocked twice before stepping inside, gesturing for you to follow. “Principal Hill, this is the new literature teacher, Ms. Y/n.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment at the mention of that name. Principal Hill? It couldn’t be that Hill… could it?

But when your eyes met the figure behind the dark wooden desk, any doubt you had was crushed. There she was: Maria Hill. The same impeccable posture, the piercing gaze that seemed to see into your soul, and the authoritative air you’d never forget.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," Maria said, standing up and extending her hand. Her voice was serious, professional, but you knew well the weight behind it.

You tried to hide the tremor in your hand as you shook hers. "It’s a pleasure to be here, Principal Hill. Thank you for the opportunity."

The shock of finding Maria Hill there, as the principal of the school where you’d be working, still burned in your mind as Sharon made the introductions. You tried to maintain your composure, but the weight of high school memories was creeping into your thoughts like an unwelcome ghost.

Maria stood, her eyes briefly widening when they met yours. The surprise on her face was fleeting, quickly replaced by her usual mask of professionalism, but you noticed. You always noticed too much when it came to her.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," she began, her voice still firm, but with a slight hesitation you recognized immediately.

"Principal Hill," you replied, with a smile that was a bit tighter than it should’ve been. The tension between you felt almost electric, but Sharon seemed oblivious, continuing with the introductions as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

When Sharon finished speaking, Maria tilted her head, her gaze fixed on yours as if trying to decipher something. Finally, she broke the silence. "I see you’ve grown well," she said, her tone casual but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite define.

Those words hit you like a punch. Grown well? Was that all she had to say after years of cruelty, judgmental glances, and harsh words whispered in crowded hallways?

You lifted your chin, refusing to show any weakness. "That’s what they say, right? Time works wonders," you replied, keeping your voice steady, even though something inside you was churning.

Her lips curved slightly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. Maybe it was discomfort, maybe regret. You weren’t sure. "I hope your experience here will be productive. The school has high standards, but I’m confident you’ll meet them."

"Thank you, Principal Hill," you replied with a respectful nod, though not without a touch of irony.

As Sharon guided you out of the office, you could feel Maria’s eyes still on you. That old feeling of being under her microscope returned, but this time, you weren’t the awkward, insecure teenager. Now, you were a confident adult with a purpose.

And, while you didn’t yet know what the future held, you were sure of one thing: Maria Hill wouldn’t be able to tear you down again.

Your first day as a Literature teacher began with a mix of excitement and nerves. You’d spent the night reviewing your lesson plan, tweaking every detail, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the moment you stepped into the classroom and found twenty-five young faces staring at you with curiosity—and in some cases, boredom.

"Good morning, class," you began, smiling nervously. "I’m Professor Y/N, and this is my first day here, just like yours. I hope we can discover together what makes Literature so fascinating."

There were a few murmurs in the room, but one hand shot up almost immediately.

"If it’s so fascinating, why do they force us to learn it?" Peter Parker asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

A few chuckles echoed through the room, and you realized you needed to act quickly to win their attention.

"Great question, Peter," you replied, looking directly at him, which made the boy blush slightly. "But I’d say Literature isn’t about forcing anyone to do anything. It’s about understanding stories—and everyone loves a good story, right?"

"That depends," America Chavez commented from the back of the room, her arms crossed, a defiant air about her.

"Depends on what?" you asked, approaching her desk with a smile.

"If the story’s good enough to be worth the time," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Then I’ll make you a deal," you said, looking at the entire class. "If by the end of this semester you don’t find at least one story that moves you, one that makes you feel something, then I’ve failed as a teacher."

A buzz spread through the room. You sensed that some students were intrigued, while others seemed to have already decided it would be impossible.

"And where do we start?" Kamala Khan asked excitedly, leaning forward on her desk.

"We start with the classics," you said, holding up a copy of The Great Gatsby. "And along the way, we’ll discover how the stories we read reflect who we are—and who we want to be."

Reactions were mixed. Peter let out an audible sigh, while America rolled her eyes. But Kamala was smiling, clearly excited, and you realized you’d at least found one ally in the room.

The class was going relatively well. You managed to keep most students’ attention while discussing the nuances of the characters in The Great Gatsby. Well, almost everyone. America Chavez was leaning back in her chair, her expression a mix of skepticism and impatience.

"So," you began, turning to the board as you wrote some reflective questions. "What’s your opinion on Daisy Buchanan? Do you think she really loved Gatsby?"

Silence hung for a few seconds before America’s firm, slightly disdainful voice broke it:

"She’s the worst girlfriend in Literature. Like, terrible."

The class burst into laughter, and even you had to suppress a smile before turning to her.

"Interesting perspective, America," you replied, trying not to laugh. "Care to elaborate?"

America straightened in her chair, clearly ready to make her case. "First of all, she’s all swooning over Gatsby, but when he shows up, all she does is make drama. And the worst part? At the end, she basically lets the guy take the fall alone! Who does that?"

"Classic betrayal," Peter murmured to Ned, who nodded seriously.

"And don’t even get me started on her driving," America continued, now gesturing animatedly. "If I were Gatsby, I would’ve run the other way the first time she got behind the wheel."

"Hey, hold on," Kamala interjected, frowning. "Don’t you think she was just trapped in a system that gave her no choices? Like, she’s as much a victim as Gatsby, in a way."

"Victim? Gatsby’s the victim," America shot back. "She had choices. She just made all the worst ones. And seriously, who gets that obsessed with nice shirts?"

More laughter filled the room, and you finally couldn’t hold back and laughed as well.

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands to calm the growing chaos. "So, we have an interesting point here. America thinks Daisy is the worst girlfriend in Literature, while Kamala believes she’s a victim of circumstances."

"It’s deeper than that," Peter chimed in, raising his hand. "Daisy represents the limits of the American Dream. She’s just another piece of the broken machine."

"Ah, right, philosopher," America replied, rolling her eyes. "She's just a terrible girlfriend, period."

"Maybe we should make a list of the worst girlfriends in literature to compare," you suggested, unable to resist.

"List? Easy," America said with a grin. "Daisy is number one. Then, I don't know... Lady Macbeth? She made her husband commit murder, so that's worse, right?"

"And would that be a literature assignment or couples therapy?" you joked, making the students laugh even more.

In the end, you managed to regain control of the class, but the discussion about the "worst girlfriends in literature" became an inside joke among the students. America seemed proud to have sparked the debate, while Peter and Kamala continued arguing in the hallways after class.

As for you? Well, you knew this was the kind of class everyone would remember—including you.

You came home after work, exhausted but eager to see the boys and Wanda. Opening the door, you were greeted by Tommy, who dashed down the hallway shouting something about beating Billy in a game.

"Hello to you too," you said with a laugh, closing the door behind you.

The babysitter, a young woman with gentle features and her hair tied up in a messy bun, appeared shortly after, holding a sketchpad that had apparently served as a battleground between the brothers.

"Hi, Y/N," she greeted warmly. "The boys were excited to see you. Wanda hasn’t arrived yet."

You nodded, dropping your bag on the couch. "Thanks, Emma. I’ll wait with them."

The boys settled on the living room floor, debating which episode of Teen Titans to watch, while you and Emma sat on the couch. After a few minutes of casual conversation about the boys and their antics, the topic turned more personal.

"It’s funny," Emma said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater and smiling thoughtfully. "I started working as a nanny just to leave home early. It was the only thing that gave me some independence. Now, I love what I do. Being around kids... It’s therapeutic."

"I can imagine," you replied, leaning forward slightly, curiosity dancing in your eyes. "But what made you leave home so early? You seem so comfortable with what you do that I’d never have guessed."

Emma hesitated, glancing down at her hands, now nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "My mom..." she began, her voice faltering before hardening with a hint of bitterness. "When she found out I liked girls, everything changed. She wasn’t my mom anymore. It was like living with a stranger who hated everything about me. Every move I made felt wrong. It wasn’t a home, you know? It was a battlefield."

Your heart ached at her words, the pain resonating deeply. "I understand," you said softly, your voice almost breaking. "In the orphanage... Being different was a sentence too. It didn’t matter what it was—too quiet, too curious, too anything—you became a target. Pain can harden you, but somehow, it also gave me strength."

Emma looked up at you, her eyes glistening with tears. "It’s good to hear that from someone who really understands," she said, her voice trembling. "Because sometimes, it feels like I’ll carry this pain forever."

Without hesitation, you reached out, covering her hand with yours—a firm but gentle touch that offered warmth and comfort. "No one should carry that alone, Emma," you said, meeting her gaze directly. "And you know what’s even more incredible? That strength you have... It’s yours alone. No one—not even the past—can take that away from you."

The first tears fell from her eyes, and almost instinctively, you raised a hand to gently wipe them away. The gesture was simple but profoundly caring. "You’re not alone," you whispered, smiling tenderly.

Emma let out a soft laugh amidst her tears, wiping her own eyes shortly after. "Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why I’m falling apart like this, but... thank you."

"Sometimes falling apart is what we need," you replied with a knowing smile. "And sometimes, a juice or coffee helps hold things together."

Emma laughed again, shaking her head. "You’re good at this."

"Let’s just say it’s my specialty," you replied, winking as the boys shouted from the kitchen, complaining about something to do with pancakes and chocolate syrup.

"I hope I’m not interrupting."

Wanda’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, carrying a tone that was almost casual, yet laced with an undertone you couldn’t ignore. You turned quickly, finding her standing in the doorway, her bag slung over one shoulder, her eyes fixed on your hand still resting over Emma’s.

"Hey, you’re home," you said, trying to sound more composed than you felt as you instinctively pulled your hand away.

Wanda stepped into the room, her movements precise and controlled. She set her bag on the table with a smile that felt deliberate, but not quite warm. "I hope the boys weren’t too much trouble, Emma."

Emma, visibly flustered, quickly stood, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Not at all. They were great, as always. Well, I should get going. Goodnight, Wanda. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Emma," you replied, watching her leave before turning back to Wanda, who remained standing with her arms crossed, an expression that hovered between curiosity and something sharper.

"She seems... nice," Wanda remarked, her voice overly casual.

"She is," you said, moving toward her, trying to ease the tension that thickened the air. "And she’s been through a lot. I was just trying to comfort her."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her eyes assessing you as her expression softened slightly. "You have a knack for attracting broken hearts, you know that?"

"It’s because I’m irresistible," you teased, flashing a playful smile to lighten the mood.

Wanda sighed, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile. "You are. But you’re mine."

You arched an eyebrow, feigning indignation at her clear display of possessiveness. "No need to be jealous, my love. I have a thing for older women, redheads, super bossy, and ridiculously powerful."

A genuine smile finally broke across her face as you leaned in to gently kiss her shoulder. "Bargaining, are we?" Wanda murmured, her arm sliding around you to pull you closer.

"Just reminding you that your place in my heart is unbeatable," you quipped, resting your forehead against hers.

"Nice try," Wanda replied, but the soft chuckle that escaped her told you you’d won this round.

You laughed, feeling the tension dissolve as she tugged you along by the hand. Even if jealousy had flared, you knew that your place beside Wanda—in her life, in her heart—was uniquely yours.

The twins were eager, as always, when you sat on the rug, surrounded by the soft cushions scattered across the living room floor. The gentle glow of the lamp made the room feel even cozier. Billy was already seated, his eyes attentive, while Tommy, pretending disinterest, tossed a pillow into the corner but was clearly ready to listen.

"Today, I’m going to tell you a special story," you began, adjusting yourself on the rug and looking at the two. "It’s an ancient Greek legend about two souls that never stopped finding each other, no matter what happened."

Billy’s eyes widened, already immersed in the promise of the tale. "Is it about love? Like, soulmates?"

You smiled, appreciating the innocence of his question. "Exactly. It’s about Orpheus and Eurydice."

Tommy, who had been slouching to the side, sat up a little straighter, still trying to seem indifferent. "This is going to be tragic, isn’t it?"

"Maybe," you replied, winking at him. "But it’s also going to be beautiful."

Wanda, who you knew was in the kitchen tinkering with something, seemed far too quiet. There was that familiar energy in the air, as if she were listening to every word.

"Orpheus was such a talented musician that even the gods stopped to listen when he played his lyre," you began, your voice imbued with the emotion of the story. "And Eurydice was the nymph he loved more than anything. They were inseparable… until something terrible happened."

The narration unfolded, and you described the snake bite, Eurydice’s death, and Orpheus’s journey to the underworld. Billy was practically holding his breath, while Tommy, now completely engrossed, leaned forward.

"Did he save her?" Billy asked, the anxiety clear in his voice.

"Almost," you replied, pausing dramatically, letting the air in the room hold the weight of the moment. "But at the last second, he doubted.

He turned to look at her before they were completely out of the underworld. And because of that, he lost her forever. Eurydice was pulled back, and Orpheus was left alone, with only his music and the memory of the love they had shared."

Tommy, abandoning his posture of disinterest, sighed. "That’s so sad."

"It is sad," you admitted, leaning slightly toward them, "but it’s also beautiful. Because even after death, even after everything, they say their souls kept finding each other. In every life, in every form. Like birds flying together or stars shining side by side in the sky. They never stopped loving each other."

At that moment, you felt a gaze on you. Lifting your eyes, you found Wanda standing in the doorway. She held a mug of tea, but it was clear she had forgotten about it. Her eyes were fixed on you, and there was something deep in them—a intensity that made your heart race.

"That’s the most powerful part of the story," Wanda said, her voice low but filled with meaning. "No matter how many times they’re lost, they always find their way back to each other."

The twins looked at her and then at you, as if sensing something in the air they couldn’t quite understand.

"What happens if they don’t find each other in one life?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

"Then it’s just a matter of time," Wanda answered before you could open your mouth. "Because some souls are destined to find each other, no matter how long it takes."

Billy smiled, satisfied. "This is my favorite story so far."

"Mine too," you murmured, but your eyes remained locked on Wanda’s. The connection between you felt almost tangible, like an invisible thread vibrating in the air.

Wanda smiled softly, that smile that said everything without needing words. She knew. And so did you.

Fate is a tireless dancer, its steps entwined with luck and will, with desire and chance. It carries us along paths we don’t choose, but that somehow always seem to find us. Uncertainty is its greatest charm and its greatest torment—the not knowing, the almost, the maybe.

In every life, in every beginning, we are pawns on the infinite board of time, guided by invisible hands whispering promises we don’t know if they’ll keep. And yet, we leap forward, trusting that, at some point, the scattered lines will converge.

There’s a cruel beauty in uncertainty. It’s what makes the heart race at the possibility, what gives a meeting a bittersweet flavor, tempered by doubt. It’s what turns a moment into eternity because the next moment is unknown, as fragile as a thread in the wind.

When Wanda said those words—"It’s just a matter of time"—something stirred inside you, like a buried truth, a certainty you didn’t know you carried. It was the faith that even in the roughest seas, even in the driest deserts, there’s something that always calls us back. An invisible magnet, a song only two souls can hear.

And if they don’t meet in one life? Then, perhaps, it will be in the next. Or the one after that. Because some connections transcend what is tangible, defy logic, ignore probabilities. They are the stars that always end up forming constellations, the rivers that, sooner or later, find the sea.

You looked at the twins, their eyes shining with the innocence only youth can offer. And then at Wanda, whose eyes said so much with so little. In that moment, there was no uncertainty. Only the certainty of now—her gaze, the invisible thread that bound you, and the promise that, no matter how uncertain fate may be, it always brings the right souls back to each other.

Even if it takes time. Even if it hurts. Even if the dance between you feels endless.

~*~

You are free to create theories from now on. Whoever comes closest may receive a prize hehehe

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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

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

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lcvclywon · 1 year ago

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touch

back to masterlist

synopsis ᯓ ᡣ after finding yourself buried with stress one night over exams, you eventually break down. thankfully Riki is always there to catch you

now playing > •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 touch - CAS

warnings ˎˊ˗ crying, mentions of anxiety, mentions of not eating, kissing, skinship, pet names, reader overworking themselves, not proof read

genre ⭑.ᐟfluff

pairings: non-idol bf!riki x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 0.8k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 this is super bad and super rushed and super self indulgent lol ! i've got finals currently so this idea popped into my head >< sorry if it's bad kbgdkjgb

1:50 AM

It was well past midnight and you were still hunched over your laptop endlessly working on practice questions and practice papers. The lines of exhaustion and determination blurred together leading you to continue working on your papers out of sheer anxiety that you would fail your exam.

You knew you were prepared, you studied countless hours, did hundreds of practice papers, and knew the textbook through and through; but a small voice in your head kept incessantly haunting you, plaguing your mind with anxious thoughts and worries. You had to do well. If you didn’t do well then none of this would be worth it. All the hours of studying, the nights of revision, the tears shed, none of it.

Looking down you realised your paper had been stained with teardrops, the pressure had gotten so suffocating that you couldn’t even realise that your thoughts were being verbalised as panting sobs. You wanted to stop, you wanted to tell yourself to snap out of it and finish studying, but you couldn’t. The tears just kept coming, like you had no control over your body.

“YN? Are you okay?” looking up to see Riki’s head peering through the door he held slightly ajar, your bloodshot eyes met his own. Seeing how defeated and miserable you looked he rushed over instantly, kneeling down to be on eye level with you and interlacing your fingers with his.

“Hey hey hey, what’s wrong? It’s so late why are you still studying baby?”

You tried to pry your hands out of his grasp to wipe your tears away, but his strength overpowered your attempts. “Oh Riki I’m sorry did I wake you? It’s nothing really I just-”

“YN, please don’t say it’s nothing it’s obviously something if you’re crying this much over it,” gently grabbing your shoulders he slowly lifted you up to stand, eyes never leaving your own, “is it the exam?”

With that all the walls you had up before crumbled in an instant, running into his embrace you sobbed into his chest. Cries muffled and his shirt drenched in tears you could only mumble out “What if I don’t do well?”

“YN what are you talking about, you’ve been studying non-stop,” his hands gently ran over your hair, lulling you into a relaxed state, “you’re pushing yourself over the edge here, you know all the material, it’s no use worrying over it hm?”

“But what if I forget something in the exam?”

“YN listen to me” he slowly pried himself from the embrace to cup your tear-stained cheeks, tilting your head upwards to face him, “You’re going to do fine baby, but if you don’t get enough sleep or rest that won’t do you any good will it? Have you even had anything to eat?”

Sheepishly you nodded your head while your eyes lay fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to meet his intense gaze, “I had some coffee earlier…”

“Aish that’s not enough is it? You need food for your brain to function, come on let’s go eat something…” his arm wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to lead you out of the room, but you stood there frozen.

“Can we just,” you let out in a hushed mumble, “can you just hug me for a bit, it felt nice…”

Wordlessly he pulled your body into his: chin resting on the top of your head, fingers raking gently through your hair just as he did moments ago, whispering sweet comforting words in hopes to calm you down.

Riki knew how much you stressed over exams, this wasn’t the first time he witnessed you breaking down over one. And he always knew the exact thing to say every single time you did. His gentle words and comforting touch always managed to calm down your nerves, this time was no exception.

Slowly pulling away you looked up to meet his face adorned with a warm smile, his eyes however still had a glint of concern in them.

“Feel better now baby?” he reached over to wipe off remnants of tears dripping down your cheeks

“Yeah…thank you riks.” your words were laced with so much love it took everything in Riki for him not to melt on the spot.

“Of course my YN. Let’s go eat now alright, and no more studying after okay? You need to sleep my love.” you nodded in understanding and slowly followed him out of the room like a lost puppy. After a quick warm meal, Riki helped you wash up before tucking you into bed (as well as himself).

His arms engulfed you in a soothing embrace and your limbs tangled together as you let his gentle reassurances wash away any worries you had about your exam. Slowly drifting off into sleep, you managed to whisper out a small “I love you” not caring if he could hear it.

It seems he did as he responded with a quick “I’ll always love you more.” and with that you both allowed yourself to fall into a deep slumber.

perm taglist (send an ask to be added!) @floweryang @cupidhoons @dimplewonie @msauthor @cholexc

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qatarsprint2023 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi im shamelessly in love with Oscar so how about Oscar x reader, where the reader gets really overwhelmed and Oscar helps calm her down!!!

I really liked writing this because I've been getting so many Lando requests and I'm not even that big of a Lando girl (I'm sorry!) I'm not quite sure if you meant it like this or more like a meltdown overwhelmed, but I hope you enjoy anyways <3

That overwhelming world of his — OP81

Oscar takes his girlfriend to an official event for the first time and she gets overwhelmed from how it all works — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, comfort, fluff, no use of y/n, Oscar being a sweetheart, reader has social anxiety, body image issues word count: ca. 1.3k

Being with Oscar also required being okay with the fame and spotlight that came with dating an athlete in the most prestigious category of motorsports— Formula One.

You adored watching your boyfriend race— even more when he had a good result, but you were always there for him, comforting and holding and reassuring him when he didn't do quite as well, too.

Today was the day Oscar had been looking forward to with excitement for at least a month now. He was going to be awarded his second Rookie of the Year award at the FIA prize giving tonight. He had received his first one in 2021 when he was still a rookie in F2 and not driving for one of the most prestigious teams in Formula One.

However this year was the first time he'd bring you as his date because unfortunately you'd been way too busy with working to get your degree to even take a few days off for his first award. You didn't usually go to these kinds of events with Oscar. It wasn't like you needed to be attached at the hip to still be a loving couple with a healthy relationship. He could do things without you and you could do things without him.

That didn't mean that you didn't care about the other's career, though. In fact, it was quite the opposite actually. Oscar had instantly been one of your biggest supporters when you'd finally decided on what you wanted to study. Your boyfriend had helped you through exams and countless late night study sessions, just like you'd always supported his passion for racing through highs and lows.

Now this was different. Today you'd spent hours getting ready. Redoing your hair and make-up over and over again, criticizing your appearance in the mirror until you looked presentable. Getting dressed had been even worse. One dress you tried just looked like a potato sack on you, the next had you picking and pinching the fabric in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom with a scrutinizing gaze.

Oscar had been a silent presence in the doorway as he watched you stare at yourself like that until he'd slowly gone and hugged you gently, hoping it would make you feel better about whatever your mind was telling you. Then he'd taken the decision problem off your hands by looking at the dresses in your closet for about a minute and then taking out a very nice dress with navy blue fabric and pretty embroidered flowers. Eventually you'd just gone with that one, knowing you couldn't spend hours trying to fix what didn't really need to be fixed.

The ride in the car afterwards was tense and quiet as your mind wandered. Oscar mentally prepared himself to receive his award while you kept bouncing your leg and picking at your nails. That was until Oscar just took your hand in his and gently let his thumb draw small circles into the skin there, whispering a soft "You'll do great," as he kept one hand on the steering wheel.

When you arrived at the venue, Oscar got out first and walked around to open your car door for you like a real gentleman. As you stepped out of the car, you were both instantly caught in the flickering flashlights of cameras to each side of the entrance and calls of "Oscar! Oscar, here!" from photographers who hoped to catch your boyfriend smiling at their camera.

The onslaught of flashing lights and clamoring voices overwhelmed your senses, made your heart speed up and your mouth go dry as your eyes darted all around. It felt like stepping into a whirlwind of attention and scrutiny, each flash of a camera a reminder of Oscar's world—a world where every move was watched, every word dissected.

You clung to Oscar's hand like a lifeline, trying to navigate the sea of people and paparazzi, your heart pounding like it wanted to run away. Each click that came from the cameras around seemed like a spotlight on every single one of your insecurities, leaving them out for everyone to see and judge.

Your grip on your boyfriend's hand tightened as you felt your breathing speed up a little, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of his skin. He seemed to sense your unease and pulled you a little closer, shielding you from the chaotic scene around. His touch offered reassurance as he guided you through the maze of photographers and flashing lights. The voices calling out faded into the background as he whispered a tender, "I've got you."

As you entered the venue, the atmosphere shifted from the outside frenzy to a more controlled chaos within. The air was thick with anticipation and the buzz of conversations. Oscar led you towards the event hall, his hand a steady anchor in the overwhelming current.

You caught glimpses of familiar faces, fellow drivers and their partners, all effortlessly navigating this world that felt like an alien landscape to you. The weight of inadequacy pressed upon your shoulders, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in this world of glamour.

You could feel eyes on you and the pressure seemed almost suffocating. You knew you didn't have that model look the girls that dated Oscar's fellow drivers had, and you'd never really thought of that as something too bad, however surrounded by people who looked so perfect, so unreal, you felt so wrong.

As you took your seats, the crowd's buzz continued, but Oscar's focus remained on you as you started bouncing your leg under the table, your fingers subconsciously picking at your dress' fabric just like earlier in front of the mirror. Leaning in, he murmured, "I'm here. Just be yourself, okay? I'm happy to have you here with me, you know that?"

You gave a short nod in reply, however still kept your fingers intertwined with his under the table as he made conversation with the woman in the seat beside him. His hand felt so warm and reassuring, his skin slightly calloused from years of hard training for a very demanding sport.

Throughout the ceremony, Oscar's gaze periodically met yours, silently offering encouragement through his honey brown eyes, telling you that you were allowed to be here just as much as everyone else. When the moment arrived for him to accept the award, he gave your hand a quick squeeze before stepping onto the stage with a big smile on his face as applause and cheers echoed through the hall. You'd never felt more proud.

After the accolades subsided and the night unfolded, Oscar made a conscious effort to ensure you felt included despite obviously being confused by everything, introducing you to fellow racers and their partners.

A little later in the evening, when people had almost forgotten about the actual reason they were even here, Oscar guided you to a more quiet corner, away from the prying eyes. The genuine concern in his eyes mirrored the unspoken understanding between you. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with sincerity.

"It's so overwhelming," you muttered quietly. "There are so many people, so many cameras, the noise... It feels so wrong to be here."

"Hey, don't do that," he scolded you softly, taking your hands in his. "You're allowed here just as much as me. Take a deep breath, okay? We're a team right?"

"Right," you replied with a nod and drew in a shaky breath.

"You're doing wonderful, don't worry. I know you get anxious around so many people, so many eyes," your boyfriend told you in a soft tone of voice and gently pulled you close, brushing his lips against your temple. "I'm just happy you came with me, sweetheart."

In that moment, as Oscar's words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, you realized that even in the whirlwind of this foreign world, he cherished you and all the love and support you brought into his life.

#mclaren #f1 #f1 x reader #qatarsprint2023 #comfort #fluff #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #fia prize giving 2023 #rookie of the year

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study-diaries · 3 months ago

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how to cram study for AP exams? 🥲

Hey dear Anon!

Thanks for the ask :)

How To Cram For Exams

Sleep. Hydration. Meals = Must

Snacking and hydration are a must. I recommend light snacking like nuts or fruits or some chocolates. I wouldn't go for heavy meals because they always make me feel sleepy.

Sleep is a must. Don't sacrifice your sleep for studying. During exams, 7–8 hours of sleep is a must. Don't stay awake after 12, you'll regret it. And sleep is different from breaks. You should not consider them the same.

Division Of Subjects

Every subject is learnt and graded differently. You can’t use the same study techniques for every subject you have. You have mostly 3 types of subjects:

Memorization based

Practical/Question based

Theory/Essay based

You use different study techniques for different subjects. Memorization based subjects require more revision. Practical/Question based subjects require more practice. Theory based subjects require you to learn how to format your information.

Read up more: Division Of Subjects

Note Skimming

First, take a topic. Try to remember 5 points, if you can't then just glance through it once. And then keep repeating the process until you know everything relevant for it. It works really well if you haven't picked up your textbooks in a while.

Practice Papers + Improvement Sheets

Create a fake exam environment. Sit on your desk with a timer, take a question paper and act as if you're actually writing the exam. Do this at least once and note everything. How much time you take to answer each question. What are your mistakes. Which section is your weakest. Note them down and most importantly, your overall improvements you should make.

For me, I did this for accounts, and it gave me so much clarity, especially the improvements. I used to go through this improvement sheet before my actual exam and I did not repeat even a single mistake again. The trick is to keep updating the sheet by adding improvements from your actual exams too.

Question Method

No matter how well you know your content, if you can't put it in words appropriately, then you won't get your grades.

Now, it's hard to remember every single thing, so here's a technique...

What? When? Who? Why? How? What's the use?

The basic information for any topic would be the answer to these questions. If you remember this and ca answer to it then you've prepared well enough.

If you want to read up more about it, check out: Question Method

Break It Down

Not your chapter. I mean the topic itself. Line by line if you have to. I did this exact thing for accounts whenever i had to do ratios. It was a pain. An unwanted pain. I couldn't understand anything. But i sat down one day and read every single line of the textbook for that topic. I made what i call "Line Visuals". This is simple.

You read a paragraph => You don't understand anything.

Read every line => Draw it

Understand the key terms used there

And then draw a single visual representation for that entire topic.

I'll guarantee you, you will understand it. Review it once a day for a week and then once a week.

Mnemonics + Story Method

Learn with these. It helps you to remember easily. Make catchy phrases and stories to remember points/facts. These are like the building blocks of studying anything. Stick small notes to your books writing the phrases beside the topic so the next time you want to revise it, it's easy.

If you want to read more about it, check out: How To Study Using The "Story Method"

Teach What You Learn

You learn the most when you teach. I had taken my friends for this. Study and teach it to them. This helps because you have to have a clear understanding of the material first rather to teach them and you may end up with some important feedback. Your friends might ask a specific question you didn't know the answer to and now all of you are trying to perfect yourself with the material.

Random Testing + Book Testing

Random testing is what you do as the final blow. You randomly answer questions that you're thinking about the topic. Book testing is basically when you open any page of the textbook, see the topic and literally say everything relevant to it. You can even write it down.

__________________

Hope This Helps :)

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adventuresasmrsfindley · 1 year ago

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TGIF! What a week it's been. This may be a TMI post but we're all friends here right? 😅

I went in for the colposcopy (reminder, this is for the cervix, not a colonoscopy) on Wednesday. My PCP said this was precautionary but I was still pretty nervous for the procedure. Imagine my shock when the OBGYN was talking to me before and said the cells they found were more on the side of concerning and this was an "absolutely need to do further testing" scenario. Not just "let's be extra cautious". I completely broke down in that poor woman's exam room. After coming off the breast scare, her throwing around the word cancer again was too much for me. I cried for a good 10 mins while she talked me through everything. I explained what had been going on recently and apologized for being such a mess. She totally understood and was great considering this was the first time we met lol. Anyways, she said that she definitely wanted to do biopsies which I was hoping wouldn't be needed but I trusted her judgement and let her proceed with the procedure. She took 3 total, and it was definitely not a pleasant experience. The last one sucked the worst. I took ibuprofen before the appointment just in case and I'm glad I did. Luckily it was over pretty quick but I had quite a bit of bleeding (duh - she basically hole punched my cervix 3 times) so she had to use extra of the solution that is supposed to stop the bleeding and lemme tell you. It's gross. It looks like coffee grounds coming out and I'm still dealing with it 2 days later. I was pretty sore the night of but haven't had much pain after that. It's more just annoying. It's also annoying because she said the results take about a week. If they come back a level 1 or lower we will just continue to monitor with yearly paps, but if they are higher than that she is going to recommend a LEEP. You can Google that if you want to know what I'm in for 🙃 all the research I did before said most places do it in the office but she said they are not equipped for that and it would be done in an outpatient surgery room and I would be put under general anesthesia. I am hoping soooo hard that my results come back good but a week is a long time to wait!!! I am so over this year.

On top of that, I found out I'm going to be traveling to CA multiple times this summer for work. I knew one trip was very likely but was not prepared for probably having to go once a month. It's going to be a great career opportunity so I'm not going to pass it up but I am not stoked about being away from my guys so much. I'm not in a great place with my MIL either right now and she's the best equipped to help us out while I'm gone because she's retired. So we will see how that plays out...

It's a lot going on right now. I just really need some good news back from the doctor and then I feel like I can fully focus on getting our summer planned and setting us up for success since things are going to get pretty crazy I'm sure.

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my-castles-crumbling · 6 days ago

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Anon Advice Asks -

addicted to tumblr anon (new), breached shields anon, stomach problem anon (new), mirrorball anon, doing better to be a good person anon (new)

addicted to tumblr anon

hi Cas how are you im bored also possibly a little addicted to tumblr basically i have some exams and deadlines coming up and i need to study prepare sign up complete forms etc and it just makes my head kinda hurt so now i pretend it doesnt exist and just scroll through tumblr and idk how to stop bc i know what to do but i dont want to do it is the thing, like do i need motivation or just knuckle down or just stop making it bigger than it actually is in my head? and how would you go around that, like do i create a list or schedule ive never created one of those in my life surely its a waste of time

Hi!

Honestly, what works for me is to make a list and then to give myself a reward (tumblr or whatever) after completing a few things on the list. So like, check one thing off the list, ten minutes on tumblr. Set a timer so you know you're not going over. I really don't think it's a waste of time to make a list because it keeps you focused and on track!!

I hope this helps! __

Breached shields anon

Breached Shields Anon here again

Took some time but I ended up making a few new posters for my walls and changing the ones I already had around.

It's not a lot but it doesn't feel quite as icky, and I finished some of the projects I had lying around when he was here.

I'm still looking forward to moving out, but for now it's alright.

Hi!

I'm so glad you were able to make it a little better. It's so important to have a space of your own that feels safe <3

stomach problem anon

so I have this little stomach problem and it's getting worse honestly even if I've had it my whole life. (redacted)

Hi! Yeah, that's definitely something that needs to be figured out. Whether it's like...a food allergy or something else, that's both not good for you AND not fun to deal with at all!

Are you able to get a doctor appointment? Maybe talk to a nutritionist? If your parents aren't taking it seriously, then maybe hearing it from a doctor will make them take it more seriously. And if they won't take you to the doctor, you could always exaggerate to get them to take you there. I know it's bad to lie, but when it comes to getting healthcare, sometimes you have to do what you have to do, you know?

If you're in school you might also be able to talk to your school nurse, and ask her to talk to your parents. Parents tend to listen to adults more than kids.

I'm sending you love, this sounds awful </3

___

mirrorball anon

Hi <3

Feeling validated by people seeing what happened isn't stupid at all. a lot of times, when people go through things like that, they question themselves a lot. they wonder if they're crazy, or if they're reading into things the wrong way. When other people acknowledge what happened, it makes you realize you ARENT crazy, and your feelings are SO valid.

You're welcome to talk to me anytime you need to <3 And I'm so sorry that happened to you.

___

doing better to be a good person anon

Hi cas

I just wanted to say that a few years ago I used to be incredibly hateful...like homophobic, transphobic, and Islamaphobic in a way as well as a kind of red pill somewhat republican. But I kid you not gay fanfic got me to realize how I was like the terrible people who were the bad guys like deatheaters in the fics. It was weird because at first I was like hating someone and killing them just because they have muggle blood? Or because they just happen to not be the exact same as you??and I slowly realized I was just denying people rights and you know fanfic slapped me in the face and has healed me although I'm going to therapy to undo what I kind of hardcored believed in. As well as your microfics they taught me a lot about acceptance and love so I just also wanted to say thank you.I cut everyone who was in my life that encouraged this and attended my first pride parade recently in june to just support people and I'm also kinda realizing I might. Have some things about me too that me different and I felt accomplished and I just wanted to say it to someone who didn't know me before and y'know just wanted to make me remember my accomplishments and how I'm doing better as a human being

- a doing better to be a good person (Anon if you'd like never been one before)

Wow, I'm really proud of you for taking all of these steps to learn and grow! That's definitely a huge journey and it takes a good, humble person to admit they have that relearning to do. If you ever have any questions about anything, I'm always happy to help!

#addicted to tumblr anon #breached shields anon #stomach problem anon #mirrorball anon #doing better to be a good person anon #asks #ask #ask cas

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sofijatesanovic · 4 months ago

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DSD-Medienkompetenzprojekt

Activity title: participating in the DSD-Medienkompetenzprojekt

Activity duration: 4 days 17th to 21nd February

Activity type: creativity, activity, servise

Activity description:

DSD-Medienskompetenzprojekt brought together high school students from six different high schools in Bosnia and Herzegovina with the aim of creating a DSD website, improving knowledge and use of the German language, and improving the skills of young people preparing for the DSD exam. This event’s main idea was to establish a functioning website for all current and future DSD students through various different workshops in which we were divided into, but no matter whether we were in the Inspiration. Glückspiel, DSD-Projekte, Materialen or the Medienteam, we all had the opportunity to develop our skills in those various fields, our German language skills and by doing it we contributed to the establishment of the Bosnian DSD webpage. As hosts, we also had the role of tour guides, showing our peers around the city and helping them navigate it.

Learning outcomes:

Identify your own strengths and develop areas for personal growth.

Demonstrate that challenges have been undertaken, developing new skills in the process.

Demonstrate how to initiate and plan a CAS experience;

Show commitment to and perseverance in CAS experience;

Demonstrate engagement with issues of global significance;

Demonstrate the skills and recognize the benefits of working collaboratively.

Reflection:

Participating in this project helped us immensely, whether in improving our German language skills, developing new ones in various fields, and it also helped us be more prepared for the test itself. We gained so many new amazing memories and experiences, we made many new friends with the same interest in the German language and we helped organize and create an amazing experience for all of the participants of the Medienskompetenzprojekt.

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grazieschillivera · 1 year ago

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Changing the plans

Authors note: instead of finally watching Narcos I'm just writing and reading about it so maybe its a bit inaccurate ?! I'm suppossed to prepare for my exams y'all this series will destroy me

Summary: You get hurt on a mission, Javier takes care of you and you both finally see that keeping your evolving relationship a secret is a stupid idea; first fluff with some angst than smut !

Warning: making out, smut!; fingering, kind of public sex? Mentions of blood, dirty talk, Javier being soft/domish

Word count: ca. 2.9 K

With a deep groan, you landed on the slippery concrete. It all happened so fast. The screams, the shots and your blood that now wouldn't stop painting the puddles red underneath you.

Between the heavy raindrops you could only make two dark figures out nearing you, like the dead himself. Usually, Javier’s plans worked out but this time you were unlucky. In fact everyone was now, since it was your job to keep their backs safe and now you laid on the ground almost defeated.

The entire time from the shot to the falling on the ground your hand had never lost a grip on your gun, knowing damn well what you had to do. A weak whimper slipped its way out of your lips when you fought yourself back in an position to defend yourself. The blood still gushing out of your side with every movement.

You only remember one shot coming from your gun and the picture of one of the two men falling on the ground, before your entire vision got covered by red shirt, you recognized him. His warmth, his smell. You've realized his voice calling your name. Then you heard some shots, before your vision started to blur into blackness, that dared to draw you into unconsciousness.

Your hands gripped for his vest, your lips tried to form an apology, but all you could form were painfilled chokes, only telling him how you fought for your life now. This was so bad, you had no intention to be a burden for him, nor to risk revealing your still developing relationship to everyone.

,,Fuck! Fuck this- Its okay Y/N. Just breath for me, breath’’, Javier said, alternating between looking down on you and above to see if everything was clear now. You whined weakly, nodding, when his strong arms pushed you up into his warm chest to carry you away.

For a brief moment you could feel his lips on your ear, a shy kiss to comfort you. All you could perceive was how the rain washed your blood covered arms cleaner and his eyes down on you filled with heaviness, as if he wanted to say more just like you intended, but wasn't able to.

It had only been a couple of weeks since you both started dating. To slow things down and take the pressure from both of you, you had decided to hide all of to your colleges. Today Javier’s plan has it been to stay near you and let the others go forward. But once people started to question their decision, he immediately turned it down. And now he cursed himself for it, for giving so quickly up just to hide his feelings for you once again. Fuck, he wanted you- to be his and especially to be safe with him.

You could read every accusation from his gaze when he carried you back into the team’s car and placed you carefully on a bank.

Steve wanted to calm him down, told him about the success to reinsure him and to encourage him to drive you immediately to a hospital. All those words didn’t seem to reach Javier, he was busy patching you up, by taking his jacket from a seat and bound it around your wound to stop the bleeding. Ready to block everything out that wasn’t about you now. But he suppressed the urge to tell Steve to shut up and instead told him to start the damn car already.

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,,Its alright Y/N. Shhh don’t move, please’’, you heard Javier say and one moment later you saw him crouching down next to you on the ground a hand on your shoulder, stroking you gently. The touch reminding you how sore your body felt, how it tried to find warmness by twitching around.

,,Javier its so cold. I’m sorry its just that-’’, you said through your teeth, shaking visible in your wet clothes.

He hushed you softly.

Javier knew you were tough, it needed months of persuasion to have a date with you. But now you were so fragile. Not just, because of the pain- you longed for love or at least comfort, you needed it now the most.

You felt how he once again pulled your body up to have you lay on his lap this time. His warm chest gave against your cheek, every muscles that could touch Javiers body relaxed slowly. Still your breaths were shallow and strained, your vision blackspotted and painful to use, so you kept your eyes close, focusing on Javiers breath, deep but quick enough to not fall asleep.

Javier told to keep your eyes open but you wouldn’t listen and he saw that you struggled. So instead, he laid his hand on your chest to always check your breathing. This gesture stayed hidden from Steve, not that he cared anymore. Occasionally you would feel how his thumb crossed over your collarbones skin and how his lips brushed around your ear whenever he asked whether you were still with him, reminding you to breathe deeply.

You heard Steve curse those bastards that shot you and praised your ability to still shot one down with that kind of wound. You weakly smiled and hummed a ‘thank you’ , while Javier tugged a hair strand behind your ear.

,,Yes Y/N can be a true beast from time to time’’, Javi added, his teasing undertone only for you to make out, earning him a weak chuckle. With a smile Steve reminded you both how you all got to know each other, you being way too busy to explain a thing to Steve while fighting with Javier for the next saying in the upcoming mission.

The rain drops crushed softly against the windows and mixed with the colorful reflected lights on it. The air was thick and cold. Then you drifted into a strange state of being not quite asleep nor awake.

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When you woke up you laid on a hospital bed not in your dirt covered clothes anymore. Your gaze immediately met with Javier sitting on the bed next to you, his hand reaching for yours out once he saw your eyes opening up, giving you a reliefed smile.

Over the next couple of hours almost everyone from your team paid you a visit. Some decided to chat a little longer with you while the others just brought you some lovely flowers, someone even your favorite candy. The entire time, Steve and Javier stayed at your side. Since the first day here, you and your two guys had formed an unofficial alliance, so it was natural for your three to stick together even here.

Only when the guy who had the task to let you all know when some of those bastards decided to try to surprise you came into the room Javier stood up and confronted him. He stood up close at him, every accusation beating directly in his face, while not letting him near you. With the help of Steve he calmed down.

,,Its Y/N! Fucking look out next time!’’; Javier told the guy after he had taken a breath out, his chest and neck still stiff from all the pressure he felt.

,, Calm down, Y/N will be alright. It’s a wonder you were so quickly by Y/N’’, Steve admitted to him. Javier glanced over at you only now realizing how visibly uncomfortable you were.

,,Yes! Because I’m doing my job properly’’, he said sternly, but his eyes brows were scrunched together in doubt.

Even though you were thankful for every visit you got, you just felt relieve after the last visits, the sky started to turn dark blue. You needed rest and even more you needed true comfort and Javier could sense that, pressing your hand gently.

Javier who had kept the entire noon the chair right next to your bed, declined Steve’s offer to give him a ride home . Then it slowly dawned on Steve, seeing you now in a different light. He gave you both a broad smug but didn't say a thing and went home.

The first moment you both spent alone, after the door had fallen shut gently, was just peaceful silence. Javier still had your hand in his hand.

,,Y/N’’, he said, this time in a way only a partner called for his love. His voice heavy.

You just smiled at him in response your arms trying to reach out for him needily. That almost surprised him, more so did it relief him.

He stood up and hugged your upper body, gently rocking you, his thumbs massaging the back of your neck. His lips kissed every spot that his hands could bring to them, always so carefully. Your scalp, your temple your cheeks, your lips.

,,You fucking scarred me back there Hermosa. I’m so sorry, I should have never allowed some other guy to watch out for you, all of that just because we thought keeping this lowkey was a good idea. But no one can look out for you as I can,as I should. I’m sorry- I should have never backed up with my plan’’, Javier couldn’t stop beating himself up, so you did it for him reassuring him softly.

But then you started to apologize, for being so uncareful, to have risked revealing your relationship to the others. Javier realized that this plan has been the worst.

,,Nonsense, you didn’t do a thing wrong. I want to take care of you. Quite this hiding finally, I don’t want to pretend I don’t care for you more than I do actually’’, said Javier bringing your hand to his lips, kissing you knuckles taking in your sent to calm him down.

Maybe it was due to the painkillers, but you didn't feel the risk of an unrequited love any more. You told him that you loved him, finally and for the first time. It just happened. He answered it with a long slow kiss, before admitting the same feelings.

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You spent the entire night in Javier’s arms. Even though the warm blankets hugged you tightly and the painkillers did their job, Javiers embrace gave you the most comfort. You wanted to turn around and face him, but it was still too painful and you had the order to stay still. So Javier made you - he held you close and kissed every spot of your body he could reach.

By midnight your blanket was covered in opened up magazines and empty candy papers. The TV hummed softly his late-night program while you two rested a bit, always waking a from a shallow sleep and then cuddled up closer again on this small mattress. Your back leaned closely against Javier’s chest, that raised peacefully up and down. Only when your infusion got empty, you couldn't drift back to slumber anymore. Javier noticed it and got a nurse who helped you with that.

You still felt warm and cozy, but the painkillers needed some time to have its effect. The old pain rose up again and made your legs twitch up to your chest to get some relief out of your body.

Javiers hand held you close to comfort you, humming reassuring words, that the painkillers would work soon and that you needed rest.

But maybe you also needed something else, He figured.

To test the waters his hand slowly glided over the stiff fabric of your hospital clothes, watching how your body pressed against his palm to meet his touch. Your face still turned away from him, a needy sound reached his ear and that was all he needed.

His hand slipped down to your panties to push them slowly aside, you were so hot against his fingers when he barely brushed against your folds. Your back arched weakly up, bringing your hips further against his crotch and your pussy further against his hand, that he cupped now entirely. A deep hum brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

,,Javi- what if someone walks in?’’ you asked insecure yet so touched by the fact that he still wanted you when you laid so beaten up before him.

,,I’m sure they will find their way out by themselves then’’ Javi said his lips starting to kiss behind your ear, to brush away your doubts or wishes to not be impolite. But fuck, he couldn’t care less. He had cared about that for long enough and had seen the prize it came with. No, only you mattered now.

,,Isn’t this inappropriate? In a hospital? I’m in pain, you know’’ you asked but already enjoying his touches. His other hand had come around your middle, pressing it further against his chest. You were more than warm by now.

,,Forget about all of them. Let me do this for you Hermosa – besides a little pain always seemed to have helped you fall over the edge, so…’’ he said teasingly before his tongue dragged down your neck, sealing his decision with it. His hand slipped under your gown cupping your left breast, before pinching its nipple softly.

At first you intended to let him hear your surprised chuckle, but instead a long moan slipped past your lips. Your face burning red in shame. Only Javier didn’t care.

,,There she is’’ Javiers eyes flew down to your exposed curves, admiring how they moved in the artificially turquoise light to meet his touch more.

,,That’s right baby. Let me here you. You focus in me, while I focus on you – gosh you feel so good’’, his voice turned darker, playing with your stiff nipple.

His fingers vanished further behind your panties and rubbed slow circles over your clit bringing it to arch in slow, burning hot weaves until his fingers were fully covered in your juices.

,,Good job Y/N. Just let go for me, I’m right here’’, he said, his words sending shivers down your spine. Javier knew how to use his voice and body since your first date and even before that, but this was different. This was so dominating yet so soft, almost lovingly.

You had no intention to hold back anymore, your fingers opened the bow in your neck and pulled your white gown from your body, getting rid of this annoying thing, before turning carefully around, revealing your body to Javier.

Your gaze met his wide blown brown eyes gliding down. There it was again this look of doubt and guilt, when he met your patched up wound.

To shut his dark thoughts off you immediately kissed him, sealing your lips against his, warmly and smoothly, humming soothing words against them after every kiss, before he didn’t need to hear more and his lips remained on yours. He took a deep breath through his nose while his tongue slipped between your lips, your scent and taste letting him focus on his task again – this was about you.

Just like your neck your eyes rolled back with a shaking moan, when Javis fingers pushed past your folds, filling you up.

,,That good? Right there?’’, Javi asked as if he didn’t know better, raising an eyebrow up while enjoying the view he had.

You nodded eagerly, strained ‘yes’s coming from you, to fuel him. He knew damn well you were in a hospital, everything reminded him of that, but you looked so tempting. He couldn’t help himself he had to taste you, so his lips closed around one of your nipples sucking on it to send you further into your bliss.

By now his broad hand pressed with every push against your clit and the spongy spot inside you, stilling for a moment, dragging the feeling out how your walls clenched around him, becoming tighter with every trust. He was taking his time with you.

,,Fuck Javi, please make me cum. This is better than every painkiller’’, you admitted eagerly, chuckling weakly at your last part. That was exactly what Javier wanted, making him smile proudly down on you.

,,I can see that- look at you baby, so pretty. But let me drag this out some more for you, let me do this good’’, Javis lips were so close against your ear, before he started to kiss your neck again, shoving your head into the soft pillow with every kiss.

At first you wanted to dissent but Javi wouldn’t let you, hushing you by pushing his tongue past your lips, his free hand pulling your hair softly, while he swallowed every moan that he fucked out of you. He knew how much you liked to put up a fight, but he needed to restrain himself now, even though he was rock hard.

After some time, when you were near the line of being overstimulated, his fingers pumped stronger inside you, the pace steadily even though your hips tried to provoke him to just fuck you senseless.

,,Y/N! Behave. I’m busy here’’, Javier almost growled, his fingers rubbing your clit one time harshly to underline his warning.

You only giggled shyly, but obviously having fun.

,,And you’re doing this so good, but I don’t mind some more’’, you said, your voice starting to become worn out.

,,I know baby. But I meant to look out for you. Can’t have you get hurt again. This fingers can fuck you as much as you want but I decide the pace. If you behave and once you are fine again, I can fuck you as hard as you ask me to, nicely of course’’, Javier say.

His words have their effect on you. His mouth couldn’t swallow every of your sounds when you started to reach your orgasm. So instead, he pulled away, watching you fall apart for him. For him even though he couldn’t have protected you in the first place. And yet you trusted him so fully, letting him stay so close to you.

,,You like that? Me taking care of you? I do. I fucking do, letting everyone know who you belong to, who cares for you, who can make you sound so filthy’’, he said listening to your hot sounds.

You were so close, so lost in your pleasure you didn’t notice how much you moved your body, practically riding his fingers, chasing your orgasm and risking to harm yourself again. Javier was quick to notice.

Just before you could cum, he pushed himself up and buried you underneath him, his thighs pressing yours into the mattress to keep you still. His fingers keeping his slow and hard pressing way on you, sending you very slow to the edge.

,,Eyes on me Hermosa. Good, we need to work on that patience though, don’t we?’’ Javier asked teasingly. ,,Good girl’’, he added when you opened your eyes, pulling at your hair softly, but never stopping his movements.

Your pupils were dark and shiny, your brows scrunched together. You shared a long gaze with Javier, who seemed to enjoy this just as much, his gaze and moans mirroring yours. And then you came all over his fingers, the weaves of pleasure gushing slowly through your body. It took you every last bit of energy to cost this strong feeling fully out.

,,Thank you’’, you said almost inaudibly against his neck when your breathed started to even out, while he still rode your orgasm lazily out.

Javier kissed your chin lovingly as an answer, again and again until you both had caught your breath. Within some moments you felt into a long peaceful sleep.

Two days later when you were allowed to leave the hospital Javier insisted to have you stay at his apartment. He insisted to take care of you, needless to say you took his offer filled with a good feeling, telling you that this with Javier could in fact become something serious.

#javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena fluff #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #narcos smut #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut

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caexamblog · 8 months ago

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CA Final Result and Exam Pattern: A Comprehensive Guide

The Chartered Accountancy (CA) course is one of the most prestigious and challenging qualifications in the field of finance and accounting. Among its stages, the CA Final examination stands out as the ultimate test of a candidate’s knowledge and determination. In this blog, we will explore the CA Final result and the CA exam pattern, offering insights and tips for aspirants. Let’s delve deeper into what makes this examination crucial and how to navigate it successfully.

Overview of the CA Final Examination

The CA Final is the concluding stage in the Chartered Accountancy course conducted by the Institute of Chartered Accountants of India (ICAI). Clearing this examination is a prerequisite for becoming a certified Chartered Accountant. The CA Final examination consists of two groups, each with four papers, covering a broad range of topics essential for professional expertise.

Understanding the CA exam pattern is vital for effective preparation. Here’s an outline:

Group I Papers:

Financial Reporting

Strategic Financial Management

Advanced Auditing and Professional Ethics

Corporate and Economic Laws

Group II Papers: 5. Strategic Cost Management and Performance Evaluation 6. Elective Paper (e.g., Risk Management, Financial Services, International Taxation) 7. Direct Tax Laws and International Taxation 8. Indirect Tax Laws

Each paper carries 100 marks, and the total duration of the exam is 3 hours per paper. The CA exam pattern also includes a mix of objective and descriptive questions, testing both conceptual clarity and practical application.

How to Check the CA Final Result

The CA Final result is eagerly awaited by candidates as it determines their eligibility to become Chartered Accountants. Here’s how you can check your result:

Visit the Official ICAI Website: Navigate to the results section on the ICAI portal.

Enter Your Details: Provide your roll number, registration number, or PIN.

Submit and View Result: Click on the 'Submit' button to access your result.

Download and Print: Save the result for future reference.

Candidates can also receive their results via SMS or email by registering their details in advance on the ICAI website.

Decoding the CA Final Result

The CA Final result provides key details such as:

Candidate Information: Name, roll number, and registration details.

Subject-Wise Marks: Marks obtained in each paper.

Group Status: Whether Group I, Group II, or both have been cleared.

Overall Pass Percentage: Candidates must secure a minimum of 40% in each paper and 50% aggregate in a group to pass.

A merit list is also published for candidates achieving exceptional performance, listing the top 50 rank holders nationwide.

Importance of the CA Final Result

The CA Final result plays a pivotal role in shaping a candidate’s career in accounting and finance. Here’s why it matters:

Professional Certification: Passing the CA Final examination qualifies you for ICAI membership, enabling you to use the prestigious ‘CA’ prefix.

Career Advancement: The result opens doors to diverse roles in audit, taxation, finance, and consultancy.

Recognition: It reflects years of dedication and hard work, earning respect within the industry.

Detailed Insights into the CA Exam Pattern

A thorough understanding of the CA exam pattern can significantly enhance your preparation. Let’s look at some critical aspects:

Types of Questions:

Objective questions assess basic understanding and application skills.

Descriptive questions test in-depth knowledge and analytical abilities.

Marking Scheme:

Each paper has a maximum of 100 marks.

Candidates must achieve at least 40% in individual papers and an aggregate of 50% in a group.

Elective Paper Flexibility:

Group II includes an elective paper, allowing candidates to choose a subject aligned with their interests or career goals.

Negative Marking:

No negative marking applies to objective questions, encouraging candidates to attempt all questions.

Pass Percentage Trends in CA Final Results

The CA Final exam is known for its challenging nature, reflected in the pass percentages:

May 2023 Attempt:

Group I: 12.42%

Group II: 15.23%

November 2022 Attempt:

Group I: 11.09%

Group II: 14.67%

These figures highlight the dedication required to succeed in the CA Final exam but also emphasize the prestige associated with clearing it.

Preparing for the CA Final Examination

Effective preparation is key to succeeding in the CA Final exam. Here are some tips:

Understand the Exam Pattern: Familiarize yourself with the CA exam pattern to strategize your studies.

Create a Study Plan: Allocate time for each subject based on its weightage and your comfort level.

Practice Mock Tests: Solve past papers and mock tests to build confidence and improve time management.

Join Study Groups: Collaborative learning can provide diverse perspectives and keep you motivated.

What to Do After Receiving the CA Final Result

The next steps after the CA Final result depend on your performance. Here’s a guide:

If You Passed:

Explore Career Options: Choose between industry roles, independent practice, or further studies.

Upskill: Consider additional certifications like CFA, CPA, or advanced courses in taxation and finance.

If You Did Not Clear:

Analyze Your Marks: Identify areas for improvement based on your result.

Seek Guidance: Join coaching or seek mentorship to strengthen weak subjects.

Reattempt Strategically: Use the insights from your previous attempt to prepare effectively.

Debunking Myths About CA Final Results and Exam Pattern

"The Number of Attempts Matters": While clearing in fewer attempts is ideal, your professional growth depends on skills and experience.

"Only Top Rankers Succeed": Success in the CA profession is driven by continuous learning and adaptability.

"Low Scores Mean Poor Career Prospects": Many accomplished Chartered Accountants have modest scores but excelled in their fields.

Inspiring Stories of Resilience

Several successful Chartered Accountants have overcome challenges during their CA journey. Their stories remind us that perseverance, not just the CA Final result, defines success.

Conclusion

The CA Final result and the CA exam pattern are integral to the journey of becoming a Chartered Accountant. While the result marks a milestone, understanding the exam pattern can help candidates prepare better and achieve their goals. Remember, success in the CA field is not solely about passing exams but also about continuous growth and learning.

Best wishes to all aspiring Chartered Accountants on their journey to excellence!

#CA Exam Pattern #Chartered Accountancy Exam #ICAI CA Final #CA Final Pass Percentage #How to Check CA Final Result #CA Final Preparation Tips #CA Exam Marking Scheme #CA Final Group I and II #Chartered Accountant Career #CA Final Merit List #CA Result Analysis #Tips for CA Aspirants #CA Exam Strategy #Understanding CA Exam Pattern

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burningvillage · 16 days ago

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THE QUEEN OF SORROWS

Ⅶ

SUMMARY: The dispatch returns; a scheme is put in place, the tide shifts.

CW: good old gossip;

TW: Mentions of canon-compliant violence;

WC: 5.6k

a/n: omg hiii. its been a while. exam season is done, at least until september. baby's first time skip bc we're getting in the thick of it. next chapter will be fire, from then on everything gets much more active. Not much to say except that I'm excited for the story to truly mount. I have no idea how gossip columns work(*/ω＼*) As always, sorry for any mistype.

yours,

Witch xx

His hair had grown a considerable amount in the span of two months.

Black curls tickled his nape, and his fringe touched his cheeks.

Yura had forced him to sit in front of a mirror in his office, though he lacked the usual light in his demeanor.

Azriel had let himself be dragged.

Yura and Dumas had made it back only two weeks ago, with their morale busted: they’d found nothing but death and gore at Salts, a mess that had took quite a long while to clean up and with no clear culprit.

The entire matter had drained Yura of his confidence, and Dumas of his presence; while one insisted on being present for the sake of his workload, the other had been directly dismissed, with Rheia’s trusted medic, Misha, suggesting his rest was fundamental.

Rheia hadn’t hesitated in calling Dumas’ second in command.

She’d made sure he was assigned a room in the residence (while going on and on about how dangerous it would have been leaving him alone in his house, isolated somewhere far), then she made the preparations for his stay and everything he would need.

Ever efficient, Rheia had almost done the same thing for Yura, with the only exception that he’d refused and had been so firm in his decision, no one had raised objections.

Even if Rheia had wanted to, she’d respected his decision.

Azriel thought he’d witness a discussion of some kind, but the matter had been dropped ultimately before it could even cause a true problem.

But nothing had happened, and now he was getting a haircut from Yura, who was too caught up in whatever he’d seen to work properly.

It was not the strangest thing he’d witnessed in two months.

A lot had happened, and a lot of it involved Rheia, unsurprisingly.

They became friends.

Or a more awkward, accidental version of it.

It was not an organic path, but one that was somewhat forced upon him due to the circumstances.

It appeared to Azriel that anywhere he went, the queen would never be too far. He went out for a walk to clear his head, and she was standing next to the fountain, reading a poem -always the same one- to no one but herself.

He’d want to burrow his head in a book, in that nook he’d seen once, and she’d be there, with a warm mug of her loved elderberry tea, too engrossed in her read to notice his presence.

When he went for a flight, she’d be horseback riding that damned Arcadic mare.

It was increasingly obvious that ignoring her would be impossible.

So, he let it happen, the first time, when she was reading, because he’d recognized the book.

“I didn’t like the ending.”

The second time, it happened when she had taken Edith to a gallop, and he pranced on a tree.

“She’s swift for her kind.”

The third time it happened, she fell into the fountain, because he hadn’t thought of taking steps she would hear.

And where he’d expected a pissed off response, she’d laughed.

Laughed. The fucking Queen of Hybern, austere and serious…had heaved a laugh that had come directly from her chest, almost to the point of tears. It had stunned him.

And as he helped her out, she pushed him into the water.

Everything from then had come naturally.

Not naturally for him, he’d taken considerable time to warm up to Rhys and Cas, with much push given to the fact they lived together, slept together, ate together.

If asked, Azriel would go as far to say that his relationship with his chosen brothers had been a blend of necessity, survival and only when he’d understood they weren’t going to harm him –that, absurdly, they’d even grown a protective streak in his favor— he’d warmed up.

This was, however, a different story.

Because Rheia was an unpredictable force of nature he still hadn’t fully grasped yet; he could not predict what her next moves would be, or where he would find her.

She was inexplicably volatile, a ghost that appeared in front of him when he wasn’t searching for her.

Being on amicable terms with her was a good thing: he learned she liked the quiet, so conversations were cut short, and a comfortable silence would reign supreme; she seemed to have an uncovered dislike for sharp and sudden noises and liked taking a snack tray with her when she was reading.

All in all, the Queen of Hybern was not so different from the average person and simply stuck to her serious persona because it made everything much more manageable.

She was a good teacher, and Elain looked more than simply satisfied, both with the subject matter and method.

As for him, well…the impossible had happened.

Azriel hadn’t imagined it, but this change of scenery was not as awful as he forced himself to believe it was.

Sure, Hybern was no Court of Dreams and couldn’t possibly hold a candle to Velaris, but it was beautiful in its own way.

Though, if anyone back home asked him, he’d probably deny it.

It would have been easier than explaining how unusually at ease he felt.

Yura placed his scissors down on the desk, circling back until he was in front of Azriel, just on the other side.

He looked at him expectantly, like a kid waiting on a word of praise.

Azriel tilted the mirror a little, eyebrows raised in appreciation.

He hadn’t cut too much, and his hand had been precise and neat.

“Well?” the Storm Summoner insisted, wiggling his eyebrows. “How does it look?”

Azriel got up; his shadows swooped at the little mountain of hair strands sparse on the floor. He touched the ends of his fringe, “it’s…nice.”

Yura absorbed the notion with a blink, then clapped.

“You know what? I’ll take nice. I haven’t had this much fun with someone’s head in a while.”

By all means, if he’d ever need it again, Azriel would not mind another haircut free of charge.

He cleaned up nicely.

His shadows disappeared in a little vortex, taking the remnants of dark hair with them.

Azriel's presence had been so habitual in Yura’s study he’d made it his mission to reorganize everything he felt he could handle. He knew, though, that order was not going to last long: in fact, Yura had brought back with him books and documents that were already slotted in every free corner of the room. It was a losing battle: Yura’s brain needed chaos, in the same way Azriel’s mind worked to its best only when he was in absolute peace.

Even if he’d refused resting, Yura was deliberately avoiding the heavy topics; he’d reported back to Rheia in bits and pieces, and fell uncharacteristically quiet in random moments, staring into nothingness.

When he eventually came back to reality, he pretended everything was fine.

Of course, it wasn’t. One of Rheia’s men was bedridden, and the other wasn’t mentally there most of the time.

Salts had wounded Dumas’ body as much as it had messed up Yura’s mental strength.

It reminded Azriel of a long time ago, when a mess had broken out in the Steppes and Rhysand’s father had thought it appropriate to send a freshly geared Cassian to fix it.

It had ended with Cassian deep in the snow, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

He’d never told Azriel what happened.

Rhys hadn’t pried, and instead they’d helped him wash that grime and gore off and had gone for a flight that same night.

He wouldn’t say he knew Yura well, but he wasn’t completely clueless to the faint darkness under his eyes, or the little twitch of his hand anytime he picked up a pen.

He could smell his anxiety like a hound could scent game.

Yura flexed his hands and cracked his knuckles.

He was eager to get out and left the door open.

Azriel took it as an invitation enough to follow after him, though the walk was cut short just as they reached the end of the hall, Seele sprinting in front of them, stopping short of slamming against Yura.

She took a step back, black hair loose and her attire formal, unusually so.

Unnerved eyes darted across Yura and Azriel, relief softening her stance.

“Good, you’re both here,” she said.

Yura tilted his head, “Where else would we be?”

Seele glowered, but didn’t linger too much on it. She had other things to worry about.

“We have a problem.”

Azriel did not imagine Yura’s disgruntled grumble.

“I dream of the day you seek me out to tell me everything’s peachy.”

Rheia was wearing a lovely dress.

Teal satin, that contrasted beautifully with the shade of her hair, a belt made out of bronze rings at her middle.

Azriel realized he’d never seen her rooms in daylight setting.

The balcony door was open, the breeze moving the flimsy curtains with ease.

Elain sat in front of an open journal, various sticks and rune-embedded gems in front of her.

She raised her eyes to meet Azriel in a timeless stare, and he knew she was not there.

Rheia moved from the painting she was peering at —an old oak that bled into canvas— and turned to meet them, clutching something in her hand.

Seele had closed the door behind her, awkwardly joining Yura’s side.

“I brought them like you asked, my Queen.”

Rheia nodded, “Thank you.”

Her expression was tight. She motioned further in the large space, towards the living area, the couch and armchairs, then all but shoved a pamphlet in Yura’s hands, a stack of even more pamphlets sitting undisturbed on the coffee table.

“Read this. Aloud.”

Azriel peered at the printed paper from his spot beside the couch, a small, inked portrait of Rheia’s profile at the top of the page.

Then Yura began reading.

HER LADY THE QUEEN AND HER POSSIBLE LOVER? COULD THE GUESTS BE ONLY A WAY TO DIVERT ATTENTION? Hold onto your seat, dear reader. It comes to us as no surprise: our Queen has definitely found herself a lover. If you've followed earlier issues, you'll know for a fact the Queen has never denied herself a good time, and who are we to blame her? With looks like hers, having to choose who to spend the night with becomes nothing more than a fickle afterthought. Alas! It seems this time, she’s not been as cautious as she should have been. Our true Queen of Sorrows, smiling, can you imagine? Not even artists have been able to paint such a utopistic sight. Our intel tells us something is definitely happening. The Queen had been acting in an unfathomably cheerful manner; numerous witnesses testimony a fullness in her eyes we haven't seen since the birth of our Prince. As we all know, negotiations with Prythian have been in the works, and seem to be a step forward inn public relations. In such a chaotic moment, all our attention is focused on the crown, and the guests she’s so gracefully keeping around. It is without doubt not a coincidence that Her Majesty agreed to host her birthday party, that just so casually coincides with Nynsar, to introduce this mysterious lover to us! It cannot be otherwise. A source close to the Queen herself has kindly delivered us details we cannot wait to share…

Irrelevant, fictitious claims were made under that.

The room went deadly still. Yura scrambled to peruse the other pamphlets, handing the one he was holding to Azriel as he scavenged every single one of them, all with articles pertaining to the same matter, in different aspects.

Rheia sat in her chair, unmoving even if her eyes betrayed a storm.

Every single gossip column had fed into this rumor, and the issues had spanned during the last month, and if these many people had written, one could only imagine how many civilians they had reached, how many nobles had read these falsehoods and spread them.

“Sylpha sent these to me. I do not receive mail from unofficial organizations, but it seems I should start, considering they know of a lover I don’t ever remembering welcoming in my bed.”

Sinking in her seat, Rheia looked defeated. Clearly, it had not been the first time something like this had happened. It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

Yura was baffled. He looked speechless, only utter confusion in his eyes before he spoke.

“When the fuck would you even have the time for a lover?”

Seele folded the pamphlet in her hand, tilting her head in mild consternation.

“In this political climate, too? Like you would spend your money on a male of all people.”

Rheia rubbed her face, a subtle blush on her cheeks.

“It is true, that I’ve never hidden a lover. This, though…this is calculated.”

For the first time since he arrived Azriel spoke.

“Why would the people you drag in your bed pose a problem?”

It sounded ridiculous to him.

The thought itself was insane, and all the people in the room knew that. If people wanted to question Rheia’s power, there were other, more efficient ways. Lasting ones.

Though, thinking about it…if people found out she did have a lover among her close circle, it would be a substantial scandal: to his knowledge —what he’d gathered overhearing servants and reports—, Yura was seen as the one who held the upper-hand in his relationship with the Queen, so much so that in his absence Rheia hadn’t been sought out much.

Everything the Queen needed passed through her advisor or didn’t pass at all.

He could see why that speculation had cemented. They were close, and that was not helping their case.

Yura placed the pamphlets back on the table in a messy manner, thinking aloud.

“They’re waiting for her to miss a step and fall. These columns are a good way to plant seeds of chaos.”

“We could always make these disappear…for the time being,” Seele suggested.

Rheia had fallen in a pensive silence, her back straight as she adjusted in her seat.

“Nonsense. I will not censor silly gossip zines for this. They’ve been sold information; it’s not their fault it’s a false claim. They’re harmless. Moreover…I should probably take the hint.”

Yura blinked, a concerned look on his face. “You mean…”

“I’ll indulge them. With this little story.”

Azriel watched all sorts of emotions flash before Yura’s eyes until they settled in slight disbelief. “Are you suggesting I find you a lover? In a week’s time?”

Rheia shook her head. “No. I’m suggesting you hand me the documents I need, and I’ll choose the candidate by myself.”

She said it so casually, almost like it was something she did every day. Almost like it didn’t matter.

Seele, beside Yura, seemed unsurprised by the turn of events. She got up and bowed, excusing herself.

“I’ll wait for more direct orders, then. I gotta sprint, Your Majesty. Dumas should be awake by now.”

Turning, she saluted Yura and Azriel and waved at Elain before she was off.

Yura was even more confused when Rheia clapped her hands, ushered them out.

“We’re done for now.”

“You’re kicking us out?” Azriel asked, more affronted than he meant.

He’d expected some drawn out explanation, that she would give him more to work with.

Instead, she simply stared at him, her eyes looking past his shoulders, where Elain was staring absently at little gems that spelled out the runic equivalent of an omen.

“I have…matters.”

Yura was thorough.

She knew he kept a list of eligible bachelors, for…reasons.

They’d never needed to hire a fool to play the role before, because as long as no one made stupid claims about Rheia’s private company, there wasn’t a need, but that hadn't mattered much.

Keeping her circle small had never been a problem: if many liked the idea of being friends with a queen on paper, next to no one approached Rheia in ways that mattered.

They were too scared, too fearful of what a connection like that could mean for them. Rheia had eyes on her at all times, and if the content of their gossip columns wasn’t confirmation enough, then she didn’t know what was.

She had somewhat of a suspicion on who could have spread such a rumor; it wasn’t unheard of maids gossiping, not to this extent anyway. Anyone could easily fabricate a story with the bits and pieces that bored handmaidens put together.

That didn’t make such false claims any better, though.

She needed to stop it. Things with Yura started a long time ago, and it had become a problem. Not because he was a bad person, but because she was. And aware of that, even when she’d started thinking this could not be appropriate, she hadn’t stopped.

Look where it got her.

Flipping through documentation on males she had no true interest over, if not to find if they could pretend to at least like her and be convincing.

This was her fault. Truly.

So, either she found her candidate tonight…or nothing.

She needed to select one before she went to bed, so she could finally sleep.

Just thinking about the rumors made her skin crawl.

She turned the page around to the fourth portrait of the evening, the face of a mature, ageless fae, the likes of which she might have crossed a thousand times in her life.

She sighed, reaching for something next to her that she didn’t grab, but was rather handed to her.

Another presence crowded that narrow, near claustrophobic space.

“He doesn’t seem impressive,” warmth pressed at her side; she focused on the rich tang of wine rather than the crowding presence that had brought a coldness with him.

Shadows picked curiously at the discarded pages, delivering them to their crouching master.

“They don’t need to be impressive; they need to be believable.”

Azriel hummed, the sound so close to her ear a shiver passed through her.

She snuck him a glance, but his attention was on the depicted face, the words he read perfectly even though the light was dimmed down.

“Is he not?” he asked.

Rheia shook her head, turning to another page on another strange, sycophantic lord. “We spoke a total of two times. Forced, too.”

“Him?”

She squinted, and reading a name was enough.

“He has wandering hands, and no charisma whatsoever.”

Azriel quietened down, assimilating the information slowly but carefully before turning the page for her.

She was…pleasantly surprised at the next candidate. She brushed her fingertips atop an inked aquiline nose.

“He wrote me a poem once. Said I would be ‘bendable as soft willow’.”

At the time, it was enough to raise countless eyebrows; Uthyr had dismissed the poor fool with no more than a warning, an action that had been very unlike him. He’d broken bones for less.

Rheia had chalked it down to the fact she was carrying his heir at the time, and he didn’t care to stake claim when the bump of her stomach was obvious to anyone who paid close attention. Plus, the poem itself had been a good distraction from the constant attention her stomach was getting.

“He’s not wrong, though. Willow has excellent bendability. It’s good for basket-making.”

A deep chuckle rumbled beside her, and she followed the sound with her eyes, breath catching at the casual closeness.

Full lips moved before her eyes, “Are you, though? Bendable, I mean.”

She cracked a smile faster than she realized, then began gathering the papers she’d discarded.

“Haha, very clever joke, Shadowsinger.”

Placing the mass of paper on her lap, she abandoned her empty mug down on the arm of the chair, careful not to elbow it to the point it fell.

Laying back in the seat, she looked up at Azriel in the dim light.

“I can’t imagine faking that kind of complicity. I’m not that good of a liar.”

He braced one arm behind the chair, watching her intently for several seconds before his response hit her eardrums.

“You were Hybern’s wife.”

She closed her eyes, like she’d been hit across the face. He was right, though.

“I had practice.”

Her father had coveted her purity exactly for that. He had trained her to be the perfect, malleable wife, a creature that could please any and all males.

“You could always ask someone else,” he said, and it brought a certain fury in her. Did he truly suggest she threw someone in a mess for her own gain? Was that how others viewed her nowadays?

She was not an opportunist, and she never would be. Not when that implied other people would pay for her actions.

She huffed, “I cannot ask Yura—” but he did not let her finish.

Serious as death, the Shadowsinger gripped the back of the chair, and bent his head so close she could count his eyelashes if she put her mind to it.

“I wasn’t talking about Yura.”

Feyre Archeron had everything she could ever want in life, and more. She had a beautiful baby boy, with her husband and mate, in their City of Starlight.

She lived in a beautiful house she loved, painting and taking care of her family and her people.

After years of not being able to afford food and clothes, of being unsure whether they would survive another winter, Feyre, High Lady and now mother, believed all her sacrifices and struggles were being paid back in full.

She had plenty of food, company and enough power to command someone with the flick of her wrist if she wanted.

From rags to riches, literally.

It had been a dream come true in every sense of the word, a victory against the horrid fate she’d met.

Feyre had been blessed with a new life, and she wasn’t going to hold back in savoring it to the fullest. Even – especially, when war was still on the horizon.

She’d spent the day at the Art Studio, welcomed back into the house by Nuala, Cerridwen taking care of a very fussy Nyx, his face red from strawberries he’d been squeezing in his hands.

His face lit up the moment he spotted his mother, arms stretching upwards.

A bubble bath later, he’d fallen asleep as soon as she’d lulled him, and the moon had come out, almost completely eaten away by darkness.

With Starfall nearing, Feyre could only imagine the spectacle the stars would be, with a moonless sky as the backdrop.

Speaking of…she had a lot to arrange, and not much time to get it done.

She slipped inside of Rhysand’s office with ease, like she had been doing countless times in preparation for Starfall; Rhysand hadn’t been around too much, leaving her to sort out the last documents required, as well as the fundings they’d have to hand out for the things that needed to be done just the days prior.

It hadn’t been a surprise to Feyre: Rhys trusted her enough and by now, she had gotten a hang of bureaucratic work.

It was the main reason why, when she finally got through all the documents she needed, she was put off by the ledger that had been hidden by the pile of paperwork. It seemed rather new, and she could see some document sticking out in What got to her was the label; a name she hadn’t heard in a long while.

A name she’d almost forgotten about.

Tamlin.

Her pulse quickened. Her body froze. Every nerve in her grew alert, panic gripping her heart in a vice. She turned around, and stared at the dark door before she examined the ledger again.

Why was this in Rhys’ office drawer?

And why, oh why did she have to stumble upon it now of all times?

She regained herself faster than she thought possible; this was her mate.

He would never do anything to harm her or put their family in a dangerous position. Plus, he’d always put it clearly that they needed Tamlin’s manpower, now more than ever. This couldn’t be anything dangerous for her, or Tamlin himself.

Right? Right. Logical.

Rhysand was the most powerful High Lord in history, and he wouldn’t harm another High Lord, no matter what conclusions her brain drew. No matter what grudge he held.

He wouldn't do something to put them against Hybern, against Rheia, who was being a gracious host despite everything.

He wouldn't steep so low...

He hadn’t harmed him when his family had been torn apart and there had been countless occasions to do so in the past, so there was no reason to do it now that Tamlin had only himself.

She thought this, and held onto it until the anxiety finally ate up her resolve. Her sister was in Hybern. One of her best friends- their best agent was there.

They were at risk, and she needed to know why.

She read through the ledger and stayed there for hours, until the house had gone silent and she could only hear the sound of paper turning.

Until every word she read echoed in her brain.

Until she heard steps and felt her mate’s confusion through the bond turn into guilt when he reached the threshold.

She spoke, with a voice she didn’t recognize as her own, the voice not of a disappointed wife, but an enraged High Lady, “We need to talk. Now.”

The Queen of Hybern liked picnics.

A sentence Azriel never believed he’d say.

Only five days separated them from the dreadful birthday gala, and, frankly, Azriel had expected there would be a little more panic.

Sure, caravans had arrived, carrying paintings and statues and clothes, the residence undergoing redecoration in such a hurry he almost got lost when he woke up that morning.

Nevertheless, when Rheia had found him and Elain, she was the picture of propriety. Serene and composed in a way that had him forget for a moment that in reality, she was hoping the weekend would never arrive.

There was nothing truthful about the smile plastered on her face.

That didn’t stop him from appreciating the view, though; finally, after weeks of bad weather, the sky had graced them with a sunny, cloudless day and Rheia’s wardrobe choice perfectly mirrored that.

A long-sleeved dress, with light fabric, and no stuffy collar.

And most importantly, loose hair.

Golden locks fell all around her, curls free and unbound unlike he’d ever seen.

The dress she wore was as light as it was colored, a creamy shade that almost blended in with the rosy of her skin.

With a basket in her hands, she would have looked like a girl ready for an outing, but that had been delegated in Yura’s hands, standing just behind her with the beginning of a smile, dressed in a button up and trekking pants.

They reached a beautiful meadow, just twenty minutes away from the Residence, a place so close to the shore that salty breeze tinged the air and seagull called from afar.

Yura laid down the basket, and Rheia got busy with positioning a blanket down just under a wisteria tree, the sun projecting light through violet petals.

It was a spectacular view, and Elain’s bewildered gasp was proof enough of that.

“This is…wow,” was all she voiced before skipping towards Rheia, just as she was emptying the basket of its contents. A few packed meals, a waterskin, fruit, bread, cheese, ham…wine, of course.

Rheia grinned knowingly. “Yeah. Thought you two could use the scenic view. The Residence gets boring after a while.”

Azriel didn’t miss the look she warded him with, not as he, too, neared the spot and sat down.

Elain and Rheia sat shoulder to shoulder, in a comforting picture of closeness.

He had worried about nothing.

Rheia had not taken Elain against her will. She’d given Elain attention in a way none of them could.

Because, Azriel realized, they’d been scared, and for all the wrong reasons.

Elain was given a power that needed nurturing and close study, something that was not possible with Amren as a teacher, as her attempts with Nesta had proven.

But Elain wasn’t a scared fawn.

She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need to be treated as one, to be sheltered…

And most importantly, she wasn’t a weapon.

Seeing was not even remotely close to Nesta’s silver flames; its entire nature relied on knowing the world, communicating with it.

How could they hope she would learn to use her powers if she didn’t know the world that her powers were connected to? How could they demand she got familiar with Seeing without knowing what laid just beneath the horizon?

It was an arrogant, unbelievable position to demand she learned immediately something that people spent decades learning.

That it took following her to Hybern to understand it made Azriel feel awful. He was her friend first and foremost, and in his infatuation he’d forgotten that friends needed to understand each other.

He watched their interactions in a new light, enjoying just for a moment how their colored dresses reflected the filtered sunlight.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Yura staring at him, mixing a deck of cards in his hands.

If he wanted to say something, he didn’t.

Elain was good at cards. Her hands were always scary good, and she always picked the best cards from their decks.

And Yura was a sore loser.

“Well, well…” Rheia picked another card from the spluttered desk, amused despite the fact she was blatantly losing. “I did tell you she was good.”

Elain hid a little blush behind her cards, fanning herself. “I’m just following a feeling.”

Yura rubbed his face, the small glass of wine he’d filled almost empty in his hand. He stared at his cards with a grimace, picking one and placing it down.

“Yeah, that feeling is called satisfaction, angel. You’re running me dry.”

Azriel tilted his head, “We’re not betting anything.”

“I’m speaking about my pride, boy.”

“Boy? How old do you think I am?”

And from then, a conversation on ages had started.

Of course, Elain being the youngest was obvious from the get-go. She had an air of youth around her and even if Azriel had not witnessed her Making, he would have easily detected how young she was.

Yet, it turned out that he and Yura were close in age by only a few decades, as Yura was only twenty years older. It made Azriel speculate on when and how the Storm Summoner had gotten into contact with the Queen of Hybern.

It must be an interesting story.

Rheia was the eldest, though when she said “711 years” it gave everyone pause.

Fae lived long lives, and seven centuries wasn’t even that long of a time in the grand scheme of things. By that paragon, Hybern had been significantly older than her when they wed.

It explained a lot about her poise.

“You’re sooo old,” Yura, inebriated, said, dropping his wrist down along with his glass, his sprawled position not looking comfortable one beat. He was flushed to his neck and did not look very prone to stop.

Rheia waved him off, taking the glass from his hand without missing a beat. “Enough with the wine. You’ll start spilling it everywhere and I actually enjoy this tablecloth.”

Yura was snoozing not even a moment later, Rheia sipping on the remnants of dark wine before she placed the glass back in the basket, standing up.

She looked skyward, past the branches of wisteria, then glanced down at Azriel and Elain, sun lit red eyes scoping them carefully.

“Would you two like to go for a walk?”

Elain started to rise, “We just leave Yura here?”

“He won’t get eaten by animals. There aren’t many nests here.”

Azriel got up himself, instructing a handful of shadows to guard the sleeping fool just in case.

He walked behind the two of them, following closely and taking a good look at his surroundings.

It was impressive how just a healthy dose of sunshine made what had looked like a haunted groove a few weeks ago into a heaven of colors. He did not know many of the trees that they encountered— they might have been a genome autochthone to Hybern alone with how crooked some of them were.

The land was flourishing with every step Rheia took upon it, and it showed in every leaf that turned in her direction, every gust of sweet wind that hit.

Her power was poignant and everlasting, seeping in everything around them.

Just being in her presence felt like Spring had come alive and wore skin.

It was a dance, like many things in life.

A small clearing, with tall grass blades that moved with her every step, a place where the sounds were muffled and time dilated; a small discovery Rheia had made a long time ago, when the property the Residence now stood in was nothing more than a disheveled camp and she was a girl running and running and running.

Rheia imagined the quiet space was doing enough to rouse Elain’s instincts, as the tension in her shoulders suggested.

“Breathe,” she said, and Elain just listened and acted, before turning.

“Good, good. Now close your eyes. Tune in to your senses.”

Under another pair of watchful eyes, Rheia moved with soundless steps just as soon as Elain’s lids closed, obscuring her view.

She skirted around her, and watched as Elain grabbed around for something, inching in Rheia’s opposite direction.

It was silent for a long while; Elain was focusing her consciousness on herself rather than the outside.

It wouldn't do.

She stopped and turned her head, the change in attitude tangible in the spasm behind her eyelids.

Rheia leaped to the other side of the clearing, “A Seer does not need eyes. They can sense things before they have a beginning,” she said, and coldness touched her just as she moved, fast and feathery.

Azriel did not need to know what was happening to understand it.

He simply needed to let it happen.

And to her surprise, he did.

He stayed on the edge of that circle of trees, overtaken by what Rheia could only assume was the weight of something greater than him.

Greater than all of them.

Elain had her back to Rheia, the distance feeling almost symbolic.

“Feel the blood in your veins. Do not be afraid of change. It’s a herald of rebirth.”

Words reverberated and hit their intended mark. When Elain faced her, it was with white cast eyes that saw her through the bones. Through her very essence.

For the first time in what had felt like ages, Rheia felt the taste of ancient terror and delight dancing on her tongue, bitter like medicine, perfect like destruction.

And even when a warm, solid presence materialized behind her, when Azriel interjected Elain’s hand just before it could truly touch Rheia—

Something clicked within her, louder than words.

When her heartbeat synced with another, her world shattered all over again, in many little fragments.

#acotar fanfiction #the queen of sorrows #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #tqos

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mittensmorgul · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas, Present

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Charlie/Gilda Words: 6102 Tags: Holiday fluff, college au, getting together, matchmaker charlie Rating: T

Summary:

Charlie just wants her best friend to be happy, and has been trying for four years to help Dean meet his perfect match. A last-ditch effort and a laid back holiday party in the woods could either help Dean find the Christmas spirit he'd been missing out on most of his life, or else backfire spectacularly. She could honestly use a Christmas miracle...

Read it now on Ao3, or the entire story below the cut :)

Two Weeks Before The Party

Charlie only ever wandered through the earth sciences department once a week on her way to class, but she was thrilled the day she actually managed to catch Benny hanging up a flier for the forestry department’s annual Christmas tree harvest blowout bash. Every year, it was the biggest unofficial holiday party on campus, and every year she tried to use it as an excuse to play matchmaker for Dean Winchester. It wasn’t the only time she tried to play matchmaker for him, obviously, but she always put in her best effort for that party.

Not only was it just sad to spend the holidays alone every year, the guy worked himself to the bone year round. And since Charlie had failed for three and a half years to convince him he needed an occasional excuse to let loose once in a while, even consider dating seriously and having a social life outside of their small group of friends, she was worried about him. Sure, he went on an occasional date, but nothing ever seemed to stick for long before he went right back to his old routines.

She’d been convinced that the only person who could succeed at the task of winning Dean’s heart was someone who magically didn’t seem to exist. She’d devoted an exceedingly large portion of her free time to trying to find that person anyway. And since they were seniors, she felt like she was running out of time to find Dean’s unicorn.

She sidestepped her way through the crowded hallway and zipped in right behind Benny.

“How’s the planning coming?”

Benny slowly looked over his shoulder, and then dropped his gaze down to her with a grin on his face.

“We got the last of this year’s harvest cleared out today. Brought in a tidy little profit, but tomorrow we start clearing the ground and preparing for spring planting of the new saplings. We got a ways to go before we can move into party planning mode yet,” he warned her. “Plus we got two weeks yet before the big night.”

She peered around his shoulder to read the flier. Every year it was essentially the same. The forestry majors decorated the clearing, set up a big tent and hauled out tables and chairs, but it was really the guests themselves who were expected to do most of the work. It was bring your own everything. Most folks showed up with their choice of alcohol— which was mostly the cheapest beer they could get their hands on, and the assortment of holiday-themed adult beverages like cider, egg nog and mulled wine— and a wide variety of takeout. One year, someone managed to haul out an entire living room set, including the fake fireplace with stockings nailed to it.

For a college party, it was practically sedate, and always felt more like a bunch of kids hiding in the forest pretending to be adults than a literal group of adults throwing a raucous party. Not that things didn’t get wild out there in their own way, but your typical frat party it was not.

The vibe could best be summed up as a decompression session between finishing exams and preparing to venture home and face the family for a few weeks. For an event that took place in an often snow-covered forest clearing, it was cozy. Sheltered from the wind by next year’s nearly grown Christmas trees decorated with random assorted lights and garlands, and a big bonfire with all the scraps trimmed from the most recent harvest of pine tree branches that crackled and popped as people drunkenly attempted to toast marshmallows over it. But it definitely fostered an atmosphere of getting cozy with your neighbor, and as such Charlie was borderline desperate to get Dean to connect with someone there. This was her last chance to spark that kind of magical holiday cheer and romance for Dean before they graduated and inevitably all went their separate ways.

Now she just had to convince him to show up.

Six Days Before The Party

“Charlie, for the last time I am not gonna hike out into the woods to freeze my ass off and make nicey nicey with a bunch of people I barely know,” Dean said a week and a half later.

She really was running out of time now. The party was in less than a week, exams were almost over, and while she knew Dean was staying on campus over the holiday break, he’d overextended himself again and was still struggling to put the finishing touches on all the portraits he was painting people as holiday gifts.

“It’s just a few hours, Dean,” she wheedled, lying on his bed and studying for her final exam while Dean painted at his desk. “And you know me and Gilda, and Benny, and Max and Alicia, and a bunch of our other friends will be there too. You deserve a break.”

Dean snorted, turning toward her with a little glob of blue paint smeared on his cheek. “Yeah, and I’m gonna get three whole weeks of break just as soon as everyone else clears out of here and leaves me with peace and quiet.”

Charlie frowned at him, getting up and crossing over to him to remove the blue streak from his face with her thumb, showing him the results of her efforts when he gave her an odd look. He batted her hand away and grumbled as he went back to his work.

“You need a social break,” she replied. “You know, where you talk to actual living people instead of just the portraits you paint of them.”

“I’m talking to you right now,” he replied without bothering to look up at her.

She dropped back on to the edge of the bed, crossing her arms and watching him for another moment.

“Why are you so grinchy about the holidays? Because it usually doesn’t take this much work to get you to at least be sociable for an hour or two. There’s gotta be something there…”

Dean stiffened, and took a deep breath. Charlie was worried for a second that she’d crossed a line, struck a too-painful nerve, but she just waited to see how Dean would react. At least he wasn’t yelling. Eventually he dropped his paintbrush in the cup of dirty paint water, clasped his hands, and spun his chair around to face her.

“Well aside from the fact I don’t enjoy freezing my ass off—”

“You know there is a bonfire, right? It’s plenty warm around the fire.”

Dean continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “I hate all that fake holiday magic shit. The cheesy music, the plastic decorations, it all just sucks and I get enough of that just walking through the grocery store this time of year. I don’t need to seek it out on purpose.”

Charlie frowned at him. “You do understand that we mostly sit around complaining about exams and professors, and all the stupid shit our families are gonna drag us to back home, or all the stupid shit they made us do as kids. Worst holiday memory story wins a case of beer,” she said, hoping that might entice his inner Scrooge.

“Yeah, well, my worst holiday memory was the year our house burned down and took my mom with it. Dad spent it in a bottle, and I spent it trying to keep my infant brother alive. I was five.”

He’d watched the look of horror spread across Charlie’s face as he ranted at her, and then looked contrite. In a much gentler voice, and with a sad smile, he continued.

“Look, that’s all in the distant past, but I really fucking hate dredging it up every year under the guise of celebrating something most people think is jolly fun, you know? I really ain’t good company this time of year.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I had no idea,” she said.

His smile turned more genuine as he reached out and patted her knee. “It’s okay, you couldn’t have known. Sometimes it’s just easier to just stay out of everyone else’s way rather than be a constant wet blanket about it. I’m not here to piss in anyone’s egg nog.”

She nodded slowly, and took a deep breath. “That’s why you make paintings for everyone every year,” she realized. “Giving people the piece of yourself you can, showing them they’re loved, without having to say it out loud.”

Dean frowned at her, but didn’t disagree. “Sounds dumb when you just say it like that, but yeah. I can’t really be part of it, but I’m still there with everyone in spirit, I guess.”

After a few quiet minutes, Charlie dared to speak again.

“Have you thought that maybe you just need to make some better memories to pin to the holidays? Not that you could ever erase the pain, but maybe it doesn’t have to control the rest of your life.”

Dean sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, I tried a few times back in high school. Took a job as an elf at the mall one year and earned enough to buy Sammy some decent presents for once, but that didn’t really do much to improve my opinion of the holidays in general.”

“Yeah, capitalism will do that to you,” she replied, commiserating. “The mall is not known for being an epicenter of the true spirit of Christmas.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, it definitely didn’t inspire the whole peace and goodwill shit, anyway.”

Charlie smiled at him. “Well, I promise I won’t push if you really don’t want to come, but if you do…”

Dean held up a hand like he was gonna protest again, but Charlie just talked louder at him.

“If you DO come, I also promise a chance to make some more pleasant holiday memories with a bunch of people who actually care about you. Worst case scenario, you get to hang out with me for an hour or two, and I’ll bring you home the second you decide you can’t take it anymore. I’ll even make you a thermos of that hot cinnamon cider you like that tastes like alcoholic apple pie.”

Dean actually let out a little laugh at that, and shook his head. “I appreciate that, Charlie, and I swear I’ll think about it, okay? But right now, I gotta get back to work here. And you probably do, too,” he reminded her, pointing at her open textbook and piles of notes.

Charlie knew she’d at least done the best she could. Now she just had to tackle the other side of her problem. Who to introduce Dean to at the party that had the power to not only un-grinchify him, but convince him the holiday spirit was more than just the ghosts of Christmas past.

Three Days Before The Party

“Hey, Cas,” Charlie said to the library clerk who helped her check out the last stack of books she needed to plow through before her final exam in the morning.

She and Dean had both known Cas for years, even if he was an even bigger enigma to her than Dean was. He was an art history major, and Charlie knew he shared a few classes with Dean every semester, but he’d been even more difficult to convince to let loose and have a good time than Dean. The only time she’d been able to convince him to join them for a game night had been using Dean himself as a lure, and then Dean had had the nerve to bail on them for a date that he ended up bailing on halfway through dinner when it was clear they really didn’t have anything in common. When Cas had shown up and learned Dean wouldn’t be there after all, he awkwardly tried to make the best of it, but ended up excusing himself after a single round of Cards Against Humanity. Charlie had tried to invite him again many times, but he always had some excuse at the ready.

She knew he worked hard, between his classes and long hours in the library, but she really didn’t know him well outside of that. Aside from what Dean had told her about him— since Dean spent a suspicious amount of time talking about him— she really didn’t know him at all. But maybe that was just the thing… maybe she’d been trying too hard to find the perfect person for Dean when he’d been right there all along. But if she wasn’t even sure Dean would drag his sorry ass out to the party, she couldn’t very well invite Cas based on the tenuous hope that Dean would be there, too. No, she realized standing there wearily pondering her options. This would require subterfuge. But like, mistletoe-festooned subterfuge. She was struck with a bolt of inspiration, and began laying the groundwork for a plan that was practically foolproof, even if these two idiots didn’t want to cooperate.

“Oh, hello, Charlie,” Cas said when he blearily scanned in her card and finally recognized her. “Still studying for your finals?”

“Yeah, four down, one to go. What about you? Are you finally free yet?”

Cas nodded, looking like he was about to pass out on the desk. “One more,” he replied, lifting up the open textbook from behind the counter to show her. “I’ve been cramming between helping desperate people find last minute study resources.”

“Sheesh, they don’t even cut you a break during finals week? You look like you need a coffee. Or maybe a nap.”

“I can sleep tomorrow at three o’clock, after I finish my last exam. I have it penciled in on my calendar.”

“Well, if you’re recovered by Saturday night, you should really come out to the forestry department’s Christmas party. It’s a nice, relaxing way to end out the semester.”

Cas squinted at her, confused. “I was unaware you studied forestry.”

Charlie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “I don’t, they just put on the best holiday do on campus. You met Benny at that game night, right? He’s the current mastermind behind the party planning.”

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember Benny.” He frowned then. “I see him with Dean a lot.”

Charlie knew she was losing him, and considering his current lack of focus it probably hadn’t been the best time to bring it up, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of time.

“Well, it’s totally worth delaying your plans to go home for a day or two for. If you need a little warmth and human kindness.”

“Those things all sound lovely, but I am home, so I suppose I won’t be going anywhere for winter break.”

Charlie blinked at him. “Wait, I thought you were from Boston or something? Or is it Chicago? How did I get that so wrong?”

Cas let out an ugly little laugh. “Well, I was from Boston until my parents decided that I was no longer welcome in their home.”

“Oh, oh Cas, I’m sorry…” Charlie said, and between stumbling across Dean’s childhood trauma and now faceplanting directly into Cas’s family drama in an effort to get them both in the same place at the same time, she was pretty convinced she’d failed completely.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Cas replied with a sad smile. “It’s better this way.”

“Well, then you have twice the reason to come out and share a little holiday cheer with friends,” she replied, smiling encouragingly at him and sliding one of the fliers with the party details across the counter to him when he handed back her books. “We’ll be glad to have you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Cas replied, taking the paper and setting it down on his textbook. “Good luck with your exam tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Cas, you too,” she replied, collecting her things and heading for home. She was pretty sure there was at least a 50-50 shot that either of them might show up. But at least she’d paved the way for part two of her dastardly plan.

Party Day

Charlie arrived at the clearing before dusk. She expected to pitch in with the setup, and had brought a massive collection of ornaments she’d pulled out of the trees after last year’s party. Benny and his crew were nearly done stringing up all the lights, the tent and dozens of tables and chairs had already been assembled and arranged, and the bonfire pit was nearly ready to set ablaze. The weather had been unexpectedly cooperative, and it was warmer than usual, if still technically cold. At least it wasn’t raining, Charlie thought as she set her tote bags down and began hanging sparkly plastic baubles on lit trees.

“We were wondering where all those went off to,” Benny said, grinning at her and making his way over with a large box of new ornaments to add to Charlie’s.

“Well, you guys usually end up chucking them out or losing them every year, so last year I decided to take matters into my own hands,” she said, hanging another bauble and then turning her own grin on Benny. “Reduce, reuse, recycle, right?”

“That’s much appreciated, Red. Shame you didn’t go into forestry.”

“Even the forestry service needs IT people,” Charlie replied. “It’s not too late to recruit me.”

Benny laughed. “Yeah, well, I tried recruiting Dean after he said something similar about architects and artists, and yet…” he waved his hands around at everyone busily working around the clearing. “He’s nowhere to be found.”

Charlie frowned. “Did he tell you he was coming?”

“I know better than to ask him, but when he dropped off me and Andrea’s Christmas presents last night, I mentioned we hoped to see him here. He was… noncommittal about it.”

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been nagging him since last weekend. I figure it would take a miracle to get him to show his pretty face, even for an hour or two.”

“The boy is set in his ways,” Benny replied. “He’s got his reasons, and I’m not gonna pry too hard into them.”

“Well, if you do see him tonight, just let him be, okay?” Charlie pleaded. “If he shows up, he’s got his reasons, and I don’t think it would help to tease him about it.”

Benny considered her for a moment, really thinking about what she was trying to tell him. “What sort of shenanigans do you have up those big pink puffy sleeves, Bradbury?” Benny asked with one suspiciously raised eyebrow.

“I’m just here to have a good time,” Charlie replied, a little more sing-songy than she’d intended.

“You just leave me out of any trouble you’re thinking of stirring up,” Benny replied. “The whole point of this shindig is to leave for the holidays on good feelings.”

“That’s the goal,” Charlie muttered under her breath, and then shot Benny a winning smile and patted his shoulder with her fuzzy mitten.

“Mmhmmm,” Benny replied, and then sighed, getting back to his work. “Just don’t let me hear you were causing problems, and we’re all good.”

Charlie waited until after dark, patiently keeping an eye out for Dean and Cas, hoping she wouldn’t have to activate her emergency protocol. She tried to enjoy the Thai takeout her girlfriend Gilda brought a few hours later, only having a couple of drinks and not really letting herself go too crazy, but of course Gilda noticed how distracted she seemed.

“Okay, so what’s really bothering you?” Gilda asked after watching Charlie anxiously pick at her food for half an hour. “You’re not worried about meeting my parents, are you? Because I told you they’re going to adore you.”

“What? No, absolutely not,” Charlie replied, turning a reassuring smile on her girlfriend. “I know we’re gonna have an amazing time with your family. I was just hoping to see Dean before we leave. I worry about him all alone here over break.”

Gilda smiled fondly at her. “This is why I love you. You care so much about all the people in your life. If he doesn’t show up by the time we leave, we can stop by his place on our way out tomorrow. Maybe take him out for lunch and call it our own little party.”

Charlie felt the tension melt from her shoulders. “See, this is why I love you, too. You get me. That I just don’t know how not to care so much.”

They finished their food, then moved over to the fire pit where Max was handing out little prepackaged kits to make s’mores and tending the flames. Alicia passed out mulled wine in little paper cups, ladled from a huge soup pot perched carefully on a large flat stone by the fire while conversation turned toward everyone’s plans for the long break. Charlie let herself relax for a little while, but when she checked her watch she knew it was now or never for her little plan. She sighed, leaned in and kissed Gilda’s cheek, and then stood up.

“You just wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Gilda nodded, only a little confused as Charlie pulled her phone out of her pocket and stepped away from the warmth of the fire. Her first call was to Cas, because if she couldn’t convince him to come, there was no point to making her second call. He was a good guy, though, and she only hoped he’d recovered from his post-exam exhaustion enough to actually be awake as she pulled up his contact info. It was still early, she convinced herself. At least, it wasn’t too late to ask a favor from a friend.

She took a deep breath and dialed the phone. If she swayed a little on her feet to help herself get into character, nobody else had to know.

“Hello, Charlie, how are you this evening?” Cas said when he answered.

“A little drunk,” she said, slurring her words just enough to be believable. “I’m so sorry, Cas, but I didn’t know who else to call. Everyone else I know has already left for break, and you’re a solid dude who might take pity on a drunk girl and help her get home safe.”

Cas sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “Where are you, I can come and get you.”

“At the forestry school party. I think someone spiked the cider, and things just got away from me after my third or fourth cup.”

Cas laughed outright at that. “Okay, I might need a few minutes to get ready. Will you be okay until I get there?”

“I’ll just stay by the bonfire. You won’t be able to miss me. I’m the one in a hot pink parka and a toboggan hat with pointy elf ears glued to the ear flaps.”

“Yes, your coat is rather memorable. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. You just stay put, and maybe don’t have any more cider.”

“Good advice,” Charlie replied. “Though it would’ve been better advice an hour ago.”

“See you soon,” Cas said.

“Thank you, Cas,” Charlie mumbled into her phone, and then hung up and quickly dialed Dean.

The drunk story wouldn’t work on him, she knew from long experience. Dean would just tell her to have Gilda or Benny drive her home. And without getting into a long back and forth, or lying and telling him she and Gilda broke up— which he would never believe anyway— it was easier to concoct an entirely different lie for Dean. One absolutely consistent trait of his was his reflexive impulse to help any of his friends out of a sticky situation. It overrode even his ingrained dislike of Christmas parties.

“What’s up, Charles. I thought you were supposed to be out partying tonight?” Dean asked when he answered.

“Well, I was having a lovely evening at this little soiree, but now my car won’t start and I’m kind of stranded here.”

Dean sighed, and she could hear him fumbling around already pulling his boots on to come out. “So you need a rescue? What’s the problem? Is it turning over at all or is your battery shot?”

“It just clicks and nothing,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, it’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the lights on?”

“I don’t think so,” Charlie replied.

“Well, I got jumper cables in the trunk, but worst case scenario, I’ll just bring you home and we can figure out what’s wrong with it tomorrow when we got some daylight to work with.”

“Thank you so much, Dean. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Where are you parked?”

“Right up close, not far from the bonfire pit. I’ll meet you there.”

“Stay warm, Charles. I’ll be there in less than ten,” he said, and Charle heard him juggle the phone to pull on his coat as he grabbed his keys and then hung up.

She stood there in the dark for a moment, eyes closed, and then took a deep, fortifying breath. This was all either going to go very, very well, or horribly, awfully wrong. There was no turning back now, though. She marched back to the fire pit and took Gilda’s hand.

“Would you care for a romantic stroll through the woods?” Charlie asked her.

“Only if you promise to tell me all the juicy details of whatever scheme you’ve been planning all night,” Gilda replied, getting to her feet with a knowing smile.

“Of course, now that we’ve crossed the Rubicon, I’ve been dying to tell someone for weeks, actually.”

“Well, then,” Gilda replied. “Lead the way.”

Before they ducked into the trees, Charlie made sure to tell Alicia, Max, and Benny they were going for a little walk. Now that her unwitting accomplices were all primed to play their parts, Charlie led her girlfriend through the softly glowing trees at the edge of the clearing. She led them a couple rows further into the dark, and then looped around under cover of the trees to the other side of the clearing to wait and watch.

While they walked, over the muffled sounds of talking and laughter coming from their friends a short way away through the trees, Charlie explained what she’d done.

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of them both being alone anymore,” she finished with, and Gilda touched a hand to her cheek.

“You are a good friend, Charlie,” she said. “Maybe a little overzealous, but your heart is in the right place.”

“So you don’t think they’re both gonna disown me for this?” Charlie asked, sounding genuinely nervous, because now that everything was out of her hands, she was.

Gilda shrugged. “Dean might not talk to you for a while, but he’ll have three grumpy, lonely weeks to get over it before you have to face him again. He’ll probably have forgiven you by then.”

Charlie let out a shuddering breath and gave a nervous laugh. “I hope so.”

Gilda peeked out through the trees when they heard the engine of Dean’s car pull up. Charlie snatched her arm and tugged her back into the shadows with a warning look. The plan would fall apart before they even had a chance for it to work if Dean caught them now, before Cas even showed up.

Charlie dared a glance, and saw Dean looking at her car briefly, and then wandering over toward the bonfire. He greeted Max, who tried to force a s’mores kit on him, and eventually Dean relented, taking the stick and the little bag of cookies, marshmallows, and chocolate bars from him before apparently asking where Charlie was. Max pointed off in the general direction of the tent, and Dean thanked him before heading over that way. A moment later, he found Benny, who gave him a big hug and offered him a drink that he declined. They talked for a few minutes before Dean remembered his mission, and Benny sent him off into the woods in the direction Charlie and Gilda had gone.

“It’s working perfectly,” Charlie muttered excitedly, as Cas arrived and wandered over to the bonfire moments later, and was also directed toward the tent after a short conversation with Alicia. A few seconds later, he disappeared into the woods, as well.

“So what do we do now?” Gilda asked, sounding as quietly excited and invested in their little game as Charlie was.

“Now, we wait. And if they don’t storm back out in the next few minutes and tear me a new one, we quietly slip away and let nature take its course,” Charlie replied.

In The Woods, Right Friggin’ Now

“Charlie?” Dean called out. “Where the fuck did you go?”

He stomped down the row of lighted trees bordering the clearing, and then pushed his way into the next row, muttering under his breath.

“So much for staying put where I could find you.”

It was only a few minutes before he heard a distinctly familiar voice call out nearby. He shuddered at the sound that had filled some of his most frustrated fantasies over the last few years since they’d become friends, and shoved all those unrequited feelings down when he realized what Cas was doing out there. Also, apparently, looking for Charlie. Well, that was a disheartening development. But at least he figured he could have some help, and possibly even a little company while he scoured the woods for his wayward friend.

Dean took a deep breath and called out for Charlie again. Not far away, Cas’s footsteps froze in their tracks. After an extremely awkward moment, Cas called out again, this time sounding a little confused.

“Dean? Is that you?”

Dean steeled himself, and headed toward Cas’s voice. “Yeah, it’s me. You looking for Charlie, too?”

Cas fought his way through a row of trees and appeared on the path just a few feet from him with a relieved sigh.

“Yes. It’s concerning that she apparently wandered off into the forest in her state.”

“Her state?” Dean asked, taking in the pine needles sticking out of Cas’s disheveled hair.

Cas nodded, brushing more needles from his coat. Dean couldn’t help but think he looked adorably festive.

“She called me asking for a ride home. She was quite inebriated, and she shouldn’t be wandering alone like that.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head, and realized exactly what Charlie had done. “She was deadass sober when she called me ten minutes ago because she was having car trouble.”

Cas’s eyes went wide, still not having fully understood what was going on, or why he was standing in a cold, dark forest. “Then why did she tell me she was drunk if she’s actually having difficulty with her car?”

Dean reached out without thinking and laid a hand on Cas’s shoulder, brushing some more pine needles away and grinning at him. “Dude, I don’t think she’s drunk or stranded. I’m pretty sure we’re being set up.”

“Set up?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side in that adorable way of his. “For what?”

Dean shrugged, letting his hand drop. He hated to pass up his chance, especially since Charlie had plotted and schemed to get them both out there for some reason. But he knew Cas wasn’t into him in that way, much as it had pained him to realize it years ago. When Cas had pointedly ignored all his flirting when they’d first met, Dean took the hint and had accepted that Cas wasn’t interested in anything other than his friendship. It had been a struggle, and those feelings had never really gone away, but Dean had endured. Cas was far too important to him to cut ties with, even if it broke his heart just a little bit every time Cas smiled at him.

“I think she was trying to get the two of us, out here, alone in the woods.”

Cas’s confusion was not alleviated by that information, so Dean pressed on with a heavy sigh.

“Dude, she was hoping we’d run into each other, laugh about it, and forget all about her as the magic of holiday romance swept us away.”

Cas squinted at him for a moment, before a look of recognition finally crossed his features. “Oh, is this supposed to be like one of those Hallmark Channel movies she talks about?”

Dean snorted, feeling relieved that Cas was finally catching on, but still disappointed that it wouldn’t change anything between them.

“Yeah, her heart’s in the right place, but sometimes her head ain’t quite screwed on all the way.”

Cas nodded, apparently understanding. “Because you’re not gay. I’m surprised she made that kind of mistake.”

Dean blinked at Cas, wondering if he actually heard that right. “What?” was all he could muster.

“She is one of your closest friends, it seems strange she would set you up for a holiday romance with me.” His eyes narrowed again. “Unless this is some sort of prank on us?”

“What?” Dean blurted again, and then shook himself off. Maybe it was the cold wind that had picked up freezing his frontal lobe, or maybe it was just the shock of Cas’s certain but entirely wrong declarations about his sexuality in general and his interest in Cas more specifically. After years of dutifully repressing all those tangled feelings, Dean was entirely unable to stop the flood of words that escaped his mouth next.

“Dude… she set us up because she probably knows I’ve been borderline lovesick over you since the day we met. And for the record, she’s fully aware that I’m bi, which she figured out when I spent the first six weeks of freshman year dating Max.”

“What?” Cas blurted out after staring openmouthed at Dean for a full thirty seconds.

“I thought you knew. I mean, after I spent the first few months after I met you putting all my best moves on you, I figured you just weren’t interested in me that way, and I let it go.”

“What?” Cas repeated, looking truly shocked now.

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then just broke down laughing. “Oh my god, you really didn’t know. You just… didn’t get that I was flirting with you, like at all.”

Cas slowly shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You know I’m not very good at picking up on that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize that pretty recently,” Dean said, feeling a giddy kindling of hope in his chest for the first time in years. Maybe Charlie hadn’t been as entirely off the mark as he’d thought. Or maybe she’d just finally accidentally stumbled into the mark. “At the time, I thought you were just trying to let me down easy.”

After a few moments, Cas quietly asked, almost like he was too afraid to hope for the answer he wanted to hear, “So does this mean you would still consider flirting with me now?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped right up into Cas’s personal space. “Does this mean you’d be interested if I was?”

Cas nodded slowly. “I have also been, as you say, borderline lovesick over you, so yes, I would.”

“Huh,” Dean replied as his heart threatened to beat through his ribs. “I guess I’m not about to pass up a Christmas miracle when it’s practically gift wrapped and handed to me.”

Cas didn’t even have time to ask what Dean meant before Dean leaned in and kissed him. A split second was all it took for Cas to recover from his shock and kiss Dean back.

Charlie, Gilda, and their car were long gone by the time Dean and Cas wandered back out of the woods. When he got back to his car, waiting to follow Cas back to his place for a warmer and more comfortable continuation of the evening’s events, Dean sent Charlie a message.

“You were right, I should’ve just agreed to come to the damn party.”

“Everything worked out, then? You’re not gonna hunt me for sport?”

Dean laughed, and replied. “Not for this. We probably owe you a better Christmas present now.”

Charlie just replied, “No more ghosts of Christmas past. You just go and make some happy new memories with Cas, and we’ll call it even.”

Dean sighed and started his engine. He waved to Cas as he got in his car and they headed out together. Yeah, maybe this was exactly the kind of holiday spirit he could live with.

Read it again (or just leave comments or kudos!) on ao3!

#spn fanfic #destiel #holiday fluff #things i have written

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