#battle lover scarlet

[magicalgirloftheday]

✧・ﾟ:Today’s magical boy of the morning is: Battle Lover Scarlet from Cute High Earth Defense Club LOVE!!✧・ﾟ:

[majokkoradio]

"1, 2, 3 de Love & Joy!!" - Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE! - Yumoto Hakone Image Song

Birthday: January 26

[beautifulsunny]

Battle lover scarlet ❤️

[chucapybara]

so being the achievement hunter that i am (aka desperate for mimos to get arle's weapon but we don't talk about that) one of the new achievements in 4.6 is to hit the knave in her second phase (one wing!) with a ranged attack until she deflects it right at you. she uses her wing to do this and i just—

loudly thinking about arlecchino draping her wing around you. how it must feel so warm, maybe almost hot even, especially during the colder days; to keep her beloved safe in her embrace, as another layer of security around you. (she couldn't ever dream of seeing you hurt; she'd tear apart flesh and bone for you.)

battling alongside arlecchino, i imagine—perhaps you had gone out to stretch your legs, maybe do a commission, and she had offered to accompany you just to ensure your wellbeing (you accept, of course; it's a chance to spend time with your lover!)—a wayward projectile you don't manage to notice, but she does. arlecchino dashing in a blink of swift wind, and all you see is a flash of feathery scarlet covering your blindside. arlecchino is there, standing by you, and she shoots you a sideward glance, concern in those harsh yet quickly softening x's of hers.

"are you alright?" she asks, in a quiet hushed tone. when you assure her that yes, you very much are (thanks to her!), arle gives a firm nod.

ohhh, and the way she looks so sharply at the poor crossbowman who tried to shoot you in the back... you see the way he shivers in his boots just at arle's terrifying gaze. (he's not surviving for what he tried to do to the knave's beloved.)

when all the enemies are dispatched, and arlecchino's pale skin and gray coat are splattered with red (fortunately not hers), you draw her gently into a kiss and wipe her cheek clean of the red with your thumb.

"thank you," you whisper against her lips. her arms wind around your waist, protective, almost possessive of you—no one could dare to lay a hand on you, not while she can do anything about it.

"always," she breathes, her wing dispersing. and you know, if nothing else, that you'll always be safe with your beloved arlecchino.

[eyebagshawty]

Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

-

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

[fandomnerd9602]

Friendly Rivalry

Gamer!Wanda x Gamer!Reader

The Scarlet Witch, that was the gamer tag you knew her by. The Iron Knight, that was the tag she knew you by. Wanda lived for the thrill of the battle when she saw your gamer tag.

It was a couple friendly matches in Fortnite. A collaborative build world in Minecraft. Without even realizing it, you felt your heart beat like a drum every time you got the notification of an invite from your online frenemy.

And then you began talking on Discord. You loved the sound of her voice. You tuned into her Twitch streams when you weren’t playing yourself. Wanda didn’t want you cheating and use her screen to see where she was.

And then came the fateful day at your favorite cafe. You just settled in to begin a bit of programming homework for your ol lege class when you heard a familiar voice ordering something.

“One unicorn frappe please. Extra espresso shot.” Her slight Sokovian accent made you smile.

“Scarlet Witch?” You turned around and so did Wanda.

“Yeah? Wait!” Her eyes went wide, “Iron Knight?!”

Originally it was just supposed to be a stop and go order for her, but Wanda couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sit down and talk with her frenemy.

That one opportunity became multiple little dates. Which turned into hangouts at her place or yours. Eventually one night on her couch she got the courage to kiss you.

“You’re gonna look at me like a schoolgirl who has a crush but…I like you (Y/N)” she admitted with a blush and a giggle.

“I like you…my little witch” you tried out a little nickname for her. She loved it instantly.

The two frenemies became the most amazing pair of lovers. You still have friendly rivalries on each others twitch streams. No one’s really aware of the fact that the two most playful rivals on Twitch are actually dating.

But it has led to some blush inducing fanfics which Wanda’s brother Pietro forwards to you and her just to see your flustered reactions. What he doesn’t know is that you read them to Wanda in the evening hours. She finds it so romantic.

Wanda Maximoff, the gamer girl who stole your heart…and your high score on Tetris.

Tags: @lifespectator @ma1egamer @konstantin609 @holiday-house-of-m @scarletquake-n7 @supercorpdanbeau @louxbloom and @moonpheus

[fairykazu]

LOVERS' OATH FT. XIAO ! cws: established relationship, in every universe, i'd find you, soulmates. notes: yes, ive been playing love and deepspace and yes, it is inspired by that. princess is used as a gender-neutral term but feel free to replace it with your preferred word, also i might write a part two idk yet masterlist + taglist: @aethion

an oath between two lovers who were forever bound by the soul bond, xiao was always destined to find you but it never meant that you two were guaranteed to fall in love with each other. it was the hundredth year that he was reincarnated into a new world. alas, he was tired. he knew it might take years to find you again but when xiao rested on top of a roof, admiring the moon. 

he smiled. 

it was the same moon that he had seen when he first met you where you helped him from forever being a royal pet to freedom. unlike the human form you’ve witnessed him in different universes. when you two first met, he was a beautiful bird that was bothersome to catch but heavily admired among the kingdoms. the vermillion bird was only caught once with the dragon lord but never again seen. 

until he was captured again by a human who pursued and used the dragon for his own personal gain. xiao was a gift from one of your suitors in your kingdom, you were such a naive princess but yet, he was the one who fell for you first. when the duke, childe, was telling you how he caught the vermillion bird.

the cruel retelling of the story made you wince, knowing what you would do next. after your birthday party had passed, it was midnight and the moon dawned before you. you visited the feathered animal, trapped in the ornate gilded cage with delicate details, already in your room. 

however, when you arrived, the vermillion bird was no longer a bird but instead avian. he was beautiful. admiring his porcelain / tanned skin bore scars that he had fought in countless battles and won; he was an affinity to the moon. but his wings? it completely contrasted the pale complexion he had. his peacock-like feathers, each one shone like rubies, reflecting the vibrant hues of the sunset. the deep emerald, green centerpiece of each quill took a resemblance to an eye. 

you crooned to him, not sure of what to call him,“hello, mr. vermillion?” 

despite being in awe of the sight, your trepidation of what would happen next worries you a little bit. he wasn’t looking at you but instead, he avoided your gaze like it would pierce his skin, leaving the golden cage bloodied with scarlet. “i’m so sorry about what duke childe had done to get you here.” 

you were like a vulture, you circled around the cage. he kept himself to one corner and moved to the next when you were near. frowning, you noticed a small pool of crimson on the marble floor, staining a macabre tapestry. “are you hurt?” 

he didn't want to be a prey to a foolish princess no less to be their pet. as much as xiao wanted to scoff, he stayed quiet, hoping your never-ending questions would fall to silence.

no reply.

you weren’t sure if the bird was able to speak the local language. “can i see your wound? i promise i won’t hurt you…” it was obvious in the avian’s eyes that he didn’t trust you. in every speckle of gold in his amber eyes, there was a speck of distrust.

you nodded, walking away from the cage and to the door. it's clear that he wouldn't trust me if i had guards protecting me if he did attack me.

cracking it open, you asked the guards if they could leave for thirty minutes. they were hesitated at first but after a couple pleas they left without saying another word. “i’ve called off the guards so you won’t be in danger. let me treat that injury and i’ll let you free. don’t you look at me like that?” 

he sheepishly looked away, guilty. sounding a little offended, “i’m not a cruel princess that the rumors say i am.” taking a box under your bed, a safety kit, you brought it to the cage.

before sitting on the marble floor, you were inspecting the injury, you sighed in relief, “thankfully, he didn’t injure you badly. this might hurt.” you took the tweezers and gently nabbed the cut with a cotton swab. thankfully, it wasn’t a deep one. 

he winced a little, his wings flinching with him. he tried to keep a calm demeanor but slowly relaxed in your embrace. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it would be done after–” you cleaned it once more. “–there you go!” you notice his gaze on you while you take the spool of bandages with the scissors. you paused before asking “can i?”, referring to his wings. 

he let out a hum. as you wrapped the wing, you made sure it was tight but not too tight in case he might have been uncomfortable. “are you okay?”

he only nodded. as promised, you led him to the balcony, the midnight skies were glimmering with stars. you glanced at him once more. when he stood on the railing, you noticed his bandages had fallen off and the wound had healed as quick as the wind seemed to hum around you two. just before he changed his form, he turned to you, “xiao.” 

“what?” 

“xiao’s my name. call me if you need me.” do birds like to return favors? that’s something you had to search up later with the librarians. as the bird took flight, it seemed to weave through the air with an almost ethereal grace, leaving a trail of crimson light in its wake. even though you had set him free, you knew that he’d be back. 

you were right. but you didn’t know how often he had come back to see you, you barely see him in the day but he found solace in your bedroom at night. as the line between dream and reality had blurred, your bond with xiao grew stronger. regardless of the amount of suitors that would line up all around the kingdom’s borders, they were rejected.

xiao recalled the night, the night you had embedded a little bit of him within your soul. it’s his favorite memory to revisit and he could paint every moment with vivid detail. the kingdom sooner or later accepted the princess’s oddity of rejecting princes and princesses, even princess ayaka or uniting a good alliance with the abyss, prince aether. all because of a bird that never leaves their side. 

as midnight drew near, he soared across the skies, noticing how the stars were no longer rivaling the bright beauty of yours. perched on the balcony, he chirped, a sound he would never have believed he’d make before. he heard your giggles and opened your double doors, the white curtains billowing from the breeze. “hello, xiao.” 

the moment he was in your embrace, he transformed from his bird form. as you played with his hair, braiding it a little. he rested on the nape of your neck. “princess, are you afraid of us ever ceasing from existence?” he asked, his words buzzing against your skin. his wings were folded in, tensed because this was a question he wanted to ask moons ago.

it was a likely fate. he was immortal, you weren’t. it was bound to happen. but you paused, your fingers stilled from his hair, he was afraid since he couldn’t even hear you breathe. it was strange. he could hear the pin drop of a townsperson sewing but not you. “... i fear it. i used to believe that i could find an elixir to live forever, to be with you forevermore. but i know that’s just naive to think.” 

he lifted his head away from you, “princess,” 

“you can call me by my name, xiao.” somehow, xiao never was able to get over the formalities in your relationship with him. maybe, blame the man who raised him.

“...name, it could be possible.” you chuckled, tracing his scars on his hands. 

“don’t humor me, xiao. i had grown up from the princess you knew.” 

“not humoring if it’s true. when i was growing up, i’ve heard from my siblings that an avian could bind their soul to someone to be reunited in every lifetime.” you interrupted, 

“that’s not being immortal, xiao.” 

“but you will be with me in every lifetime. isn’t that better?” xiao replied, knowing already that you accepted the idea. or maybe he was desperate to keep you in his life, he wasn’t sure how he was able to live without you. before, it was easy, your paths never condiverged. he hated to thank that stupid ginger but if he had to be bruised until he couldn’t breathe just to be by your side, he’d take it. 

“if you promise to find me.” 

“always.” he replied, stretching out his wings. there was one quill that was different from the others, it was glowing with a dewy golden color. he opened one of your hands, placing the plume into your palm; it pulsed with a luminous intensity. xiao gestured to you to hold it over your heart as you did what he instructed, the feather felt as if it reached out and touched the tips of your soul just before it became one with you. 

he kept his promise with you no matter what. even if the universe had it against him, making the relationship imbalance or never letting you within his embrace that crossed romance. despite the challenges and the obstacles he had faced, he managed to be intertwined in your fate. 

this time, he won’t lose you again. 

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧! [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Blade x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing, just cute fluff~

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 音阙诗听, 赵方婧, 昆玉 - 端午节

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Sometimes it's nice to remember that Blade can be very caring and sweet, even if you don't think of him that way right away. I hope this warm and cozy evening with him will bring you joy and New Year's mood (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Tiny splashes settle on the skin of your hand when you lazily tear the peel of a tangerine, filling the room with a characteristic sour smell. So calm and peaceful that you almost fall asleep, sprawled on the table with the soft sound of the TV on, just like your sullen lover with his arms crossed over his chest. Heavy eyelids cover the man's scarlet eyes every now and then, but he continues to sit steadfastly on the chair straight while you carefully peel the tangerine slices from excess white veins before handing one to Blade. He doesn't even bother to pick it up, instead just opening his lips and letting you put the citrus slice on his tongue. You rest your head on your palm, watching the man's eyes close as he pops a juicy piece of tangerine in his mouth, silently enjoying the sweet and sour taste before slowly chewing and swallowing.

You like such quiet and cozy evenings. Blade doesn't come home as often as you would like, so you especially appreciate even the time spent like this, in peace and quiet, satisfied only with his presence next to you. To tell you the truth, you wouldn't mind just taking one of the softest blankets you can find in your house, draping it over your shoulders and taking a little nap, basking in the warmth created by your and Blade's bodies pressed against each other. And it would have been the perfect end to the evening, if not for one "but".

— Blade, — you mumble softly, spreading out even more on your own palm, catching the mumble of a man barely distinguishable from the noise of the TV, it seems, gradually losing the battle with sleep. — Let's take a walk.

— Why?

— Well… the New Year is coming soon after all. Although I like our gatherings at home, but who knows when you'll have to leave again.

Blade mumbles something unintelligible again, reluctantly opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on your sleepy face.

— And where do you want to go?

— I don't even know, — you throw your head back thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. — We can just go wherever we want!

— That still doesn't answer my question.

A heavy sigh.

— Don't be such a bore! It's just a walk, it doesn't have to have any purpose.

Blade lets out a short sigh, looking at your pouty face as you pop a slice of tangerine into your mouth. Even if he always looks sullen, often stubborn and boring you with his taciturnity or, on the contrary, excessive meticulousness, it's really hard for him to deny you what you want.

— Okay. Just for a little while, I'd still like to take a nap.

You instantly perk up, bursting out of your seat and moving closer to Blade, breaking into a satisfied smile.

— Seriously?!

The man can barely contain either another sigh, or a laugh caused by your funny reaction.

— Seriously.

✧ ✧ ✧

The spicy smell of baking and tea is in the slightly frosty night air, and the lively noise of festive bustle can be heard from the streets. Such a bright contrast compared to that quiet evening, which you both refused, but you are even more inspired by that, running your eyes over each elegant Christmas tree, sparkling lights in the windows and small shops, from where the mouth-watering smells of New Year's treats come.

— Tch, where were you in such a hurry? — Blade grumbles in displeasure, obscuring your delightful view with his tall figure.

You barely had time to open your mouth to scold the man, when suddenly your own soft scarf was pressed to your lips, which Blade carefully wrapped tighter around your neck. You wince and sneeze when the lint tickles your nose, giving your lover a pouty look.

— I wasn't cold.

— Your cheeks are red, — Blade raises an eyebrow, loosely tying the ends of the scarf on your chest before stepping aside again.

— A light frost hasn't harmed anyone yet, — you mumble dissatisfactionedly into your scarf, grabbing Blade's hand again and continuing your leisurely walk.

It didn't take you long to find a new reason to be excited when a shop with caramel apples caught your curious eyes, just as Blade didn't need words to fatally proceed to it, leaving you on a bench nearby. Then hot tea with spices, cute Christmas decorations, near which you hung around for several minutes, desperately fighting a verbal battle with Blade for the fact that you just need them.

Although it might seem that you were being followed by someone who looked more like a gloomy stalker dressed in a black cloak, a scarf covering half of your face, and a hat than your boyfriend, when you rushed forward, finding a new object of genuine interest for yourself, the concern of others receded when Blade over and over again, he caught you by the hand, then pulling you away from another food store, lamenting that later you would complain of abdominal pain, then humbly buying what you liked.

Time flew by so quickly. You haven't felt this childish carelessness for so long that you just gave yourself up to this fleeting feeling, ignoring how tired your legs were, and not paying attention to how there were almost no people around you two. Blade just listened to your endless chatter in silence, allowing himself, even if only for one evening, to relax, succumbing to your infectious carelessness.

— Y/N, it's time for us to get back.

You turn around when you feel Blade stop, still holding your petite hand tightly in his.

— Oh, already? — you sigh in disappointment, burying your nose deeper into your cozy scarf. There's not a soul around you. The noise of conversations and footsteps disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the distant sounds of stalls closing and lights fading. — Yes, you're right.… Shall we go home then?

You smile softly with a slight note of sadness in your voice, already about to go in the opposite direction, but you feel Blade's hand still holding you in place, forcing you to turn around, puzzled.

— Is something wrong? — you return to your seat across from Blade, looking questioningly into his scarlet eyes peeking out from under a soft black scarf.

The man just continues to stare at you in silence for a while, which should have seemed scary and strange to you if you didn't know Blade, but you just keep looking back at him, slightly narrowing your eyes, until he finally bends over. The fingertips of his free hand lower the scarf from your face, gently cupping your jaw. You barely have time to figure out what's going on, just about to open your mouth to start talking, but the words just stick in your throat when Blade's slightly cool but soft lips are pressed against yours.

Just for a few seconds, but you manage to feel his warm breath on the skin of your face, the light spicy aroma that permeated his clothes and hair, and the sweet taste of caramel. Blade so rarely takes the initiative in physical intimacy that you just freeze, allowing him to leave this short but tremulous kiss on your lips before he silently pulls away, for a moment lingering on your flushed face, either from frost or embarrassment.

— Wh-what are you doing all of a sudden?.. — you blink in confusion, squeezing his big hand tighter.

— I thought I'd better do it myself before you make me.

You follow Blade's gaze as he looks up, noticing a sprig of mistletoe hanging over both of you. Slowly, but still, the realization of what happened comes to you, and you gasp loudly, returning your gaze to Blade, whose face is already buried in a voluminous scarf again.

— Have you been deliberately lulling my vigilance all this time so that I forget that I want to kiss you first?!

You pout, pretending to look offended. It's even good that his face is now covered with a scarf, and you don't see how the corners of Blade's lips lifted in a smile just looking at how your eyebrows are slightly frowning, but your eyes are still sparkling with genuine joy.

— Yes, that's right.

— This is terribly mean! — you keep grumbling even as you both turn around to walk back home as slowly as you came to this cozy place. — Next time I'll take you right under the mistletoe and do it first, you'll see!

Blade nods softly, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours.

— I'll be waiting.

[ceruleancattail]

For your horror au, may I request self aware Lilia Vanrouge (or Cater Diamond) reacting to us choosing him (taking his hand)?

I'm unsure about your character limit (I read your rules, but perhaps missed that).

About Lilia(or Cater), his reaction and maybe what he would do if possible 👀

If u don't wanna do it it's okay!

Thank you!💗✨️

Sentience presents:

Hand

Self aware Lilia, Cater x reader

Tw: yandere

Plunging your hand in that mirror took a great deal of courage on your part.

Ebony swirls around within the confines of your screen, twisting and turning like a serpent uncoiling itself from its nest. Its scales shimmering, light catching and dancing on those shards of dark obsidian. Even as you peered into the depths, there was nothing there.

Only the faint reflection of your eyes wide open, staring back at you. What lies beyond the screen? Despite your uncertainty, the curiosity got the better of you. You’ll never know for sure unless you take the plunge.

Lilia

The first thing you feel was the bite of someone’s nails. As sharp as well honed blades, gently grazing the back of your palm. Fingertips roughened with callouses press against your palm, scratching and yanking at the plush of your hand. The hand of a seasoned warrior, one who isn’t shy to the horrors of battle.

Glancing upwards, you meet a pair of eyes. Pupils wide open, coloured with the deep, dark crimson of wine. They had the same richness as well. A certain intoxicating quality that only drew you closer and closer. An odd quality that just kept you wanting more.

Lilia Vanrouge.

The character whose hand you opted to take at the start.

He tilts his head ever so slightly, a sneaky grin dancing on his lips. Lilia’s fingers creep in between yours, intertwining them with a sickeningly sweet tenderness. The kind of fondness one would only show their true lover.

Flipping your hand over, he sinks onto his knee. Gently coaxing the back of your palm towards his lips. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel his breath waft over your bare skin.

A burning warmth, lingering for just a brief moment. Before you could even savour the sensation, it vanishes. Disappearing into thin air. You could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk flicker on Lilia’s lips, the smug smile of a victor.

A sharp sting struck your palm. Pain jolting through your skin, before fading into a dull throb. Glancing down revealed nothing but red. Beads of blood dripping down small wounds on your hand. Puncture wounds.

Lilia looks up once more, lips dyed scarlet.

He knew you’ll take his hand.

It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Darling.

Cater

Warmth engulfs your palm. Long, slender fingers coaxing yours apart, before they slip within the gaps. Holding your hand, palm to palm. Close enough for you to feel a pulse beating into your skin. An erratic beat, thumping with all the passion of a fiery salsa.

You’re unceremoniously yanked forward, body slamming into someone’s chest. A weight presses into your waist, an arm snaking around you. Clutching you as tightly as it humanly could, as if you were the last thing it would ever hold.

Half-lidded eyes meet yours, your features reflected within those emerald green pupils. A red diamond was painted onto his cheek, yet even that was wrinkled ever so slightly.

A vague memory bubbled into your mind. The faces of the characters you scanned through through joining the game. This was the one you chose, wasn’t it?

A Cater… Diamond.

As your eyes light up with recognition, Cater lets out a bright laugh. It sounds a bit wrong, fractured on the edges… as if it was forced out. Moving forward, he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. Cater’s arms snake around your torso, giving you a quick squeeze.

A friendly hug of greeting, he claims.

Even then, you felt that his touch lingered a little longer then it really should. The feeling of his breath on the base of your neck… it made your skin crawl. Arms prickling with goosebumps, you couldn’t help the tension that crept into your shoulders.

Aww, why so on-guard? Cater’s not going to hurt you. Well, unless you give him a reason to.

He’s waited for this moment since forever!

So you better not ruin it, love.

[praisethesuuun]

Sooo... What about Arbel and Mihawk lifting their lover in their arms and making her do a twirl ♥️ and dancing with her in the sunset! ♥️♥️ Or in a field full of poppy flowers 💋

Enjoy my first OP request for you, my Invincible Sun! ☀️☀️☀️

ngl, this request was a comfort for me, especially now that i'm more than ever in the one piece fandom. thank you, my precious moon🤍🌙

MIHAWK

⚔️The best swordsman in the world has always sought a quiet life, far from the chaos of the other islands. It's no coincidence that he enjoys growing his own vegetables, while you help him and giggle at his farmer's hat. Mihawk must have been expecting your request to start planting flowers around the gloomy Kuraigana island as well, but he wasn't totally opposed to it.

⚔️However, the choice of flower would still have been significant, as your husband is the type of person who pays attention to details. After a long reflection - only on his part since you had already bought the seeds - you planted some red poppies in the warmest part of the island.

⚔️The dark and gloomy colors of his home, combined with the bright red of the poppies, created one of the most beautiful contrasts he had ever seen. Mihawk stops to look at them every now and then, picking one and bringing it to you as a sign of affection, knowing how simple roses are not enough to appreciate you.

⚔️A little habit that the swordsman has always had is to dance sweetly with his beloved in his arms, especially when you are sad about something. Even as dancing in his room to a graceful melody remains his favourite spot, Mihawk sees stars in your eyes whenever the smell of poppies accompanies you instead of the notes. And he can't help but please you, getting lost in your eyes.

KING

❤️‍🔥Let's face it, King the Wildfire is not someone who gets lost in certain things like romance or affection, preferring the smell of battle and the anger he carries inside. That's why, every now and then, you have to remind him. Loving the lunarian is a feat, but you know King holds a special place for you, he just has a hard time showing it every now and then.

❤️‍🔥One of your favorite pastimes - more yours than his - is being held in his arms as he takes flight with that beautiful black wings of his. The wind ruffles your hair every time you and King explore a new island, especially if it's quiet and colorful, very different from Onigashima.

❤️‍🔥The air crashes against your skin as King holds you with all the strength he has, his protectiveness taking over; he doesn't cover his face with the heavy mask and you are able to see his features. King's scarlet eyes, matching the beautiful poppy field you are flying over, while your fingers caress the petals.

❤️‍🔥King is a very observant person, paying attention to your movements, studying you incessantly. He can't help but land among the flowers; the force produced by its wings enough to spread them out, creating a small, leveled space for you. You have to take the initiative, taking King's hands in yours and starting to move gently, swaying through the field and making him see some good in the world.

[is-the-19thcentury-man-okay]

hello! i’m looking into adopted yet another 19th century man. i’ve owned several others, and am looking for something unique. are there any unique and peculiar breeds you recommend?

Sure! These heritage and unique 19th century men may not be for everyone, but I want them to get more love.

French soldier left behind on the field of battle during the 1870 Franco-Prussian War.

Poor sweetheart!! True story: the model for this 1872 painting, real French soldier Théodore Larran, met the artist Émile Betsellère many times because Betsellère was so touched by his story. Absolutely the type of 19th century man you want to rescue and love.

A jolly flatboatman.

From The Jolly Flatboatmen by artist George Caleb Bingham, 1846.

A good 19th century man doesn't have to be wealthy or formal, as these charming working class fellows attest. Perfect for the aficionado of lively, active 19th century men.

British Army 41st Regiment of Foot Soldier, c. 1800-1815.

Who doesn't have "a passion for a scarlet coat," as Jonathan Swift phrased it! Your soldier needs a lot of exercise and structure, but he's not picky about his food or bedding. Comes with his own blanket and water bottle! He's a lover, he's a fighter, I recommend delousing him before you bring him into your home.

Cossack Trowsers King.

Strutting his stuff in 1827, he has an insouciant attitude and a bold, fashion-forward look. You may want to address the fact that he's also a major source of air pollution.

[draguta]

.a court of fate and fortune | thirty-seven.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: canon level violence, death

chapter word count: 2318

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please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy this series - it is always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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BATTLE OF VELARIS

Rita’s eyes slid to you as you hurtled toward the four soldiers surrounding her, but it wasn’t fear that you felt in that moment, as reflected in Rita’s eyes. Rather, it was surety that ran through your veins, determination that pumped throughout your body as if it was always meant to have been there. You had fought before - fought for your life, fought to train, to become stronger - but it was nothing like that moment. In that moment, it was almost as if you were born to do this, to be the defender of those more innocent than you, those who had never committed the sins that you yourself had.

Your feet skidded on the blood-slick stones as you brought the knife in your right hand up, slicing through the right lumbar of the soldier closest to you, the small size of the knife making it easy to slip up under his armour to cut through his skin. The soldier cried out in pain as your knife came back wet and red with his blood. Your hair, damp with sweat, flicked across your face as your head turned just in time to see the blade aimed right for your throat; it wasn’t difficult to dodge it, a move that you and Silas had practised countless times.

The movements you made were slick and smooth, carefully executed strikes and blows with such precision that it would make both your old and new tutors proud. There was a soldier on all sides of you, from left to right, in front and behind. You were surrounded, encircled by enemies that wanted nothing more than your head on the end of their sword as a prize to return to their vicious king.

Each and every blow struck against your knives, sparks flying from the metal as they clanged together. You ducked and dodged every attempt made by the four soldiers, slicing endless jabs at each of them as they circled you, a dance where the leader was outnumbered, but knew every step by heart. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, one of maniacal clarity; this was everything you had been waiting for, a chance to prove yourself.

“I never would have expected such flawless swordsmanship from the Spring Court sister.” The voice was rough and gravelly, enough to pull you momentarily away from the fight you had found yourself in, quick enough that you didn’t miss the sword aimed for your abdomen, deflected with graceful ease, but with enough counted seconds to catch glimpse of what was taking place behind you.

Rita’s eyes were resolutely wide, determined but fogged with panic and fear. The old dented metal of an ancient-looking dagger was pointed into the soft flesh below her jaw, enough to draw a drop of blood from the column of her throat.

“Is this what they were teaching you in the fields, hmm?” The soldier holding the dagger spoke, his grip on Rita’s arm pinching her tighter, to the point that the skin surrounding his fingers was turning a ghostly white. His yellowing grin seemed to glow eerily from amongst his thin lips, coated in a sheen of scarlet blood as he cocked his head to one side, eyes trained on you. “Did your little trainer never teach you that it’s usually those you’re trying to protect that become your greatest weakness.”

No, Silas had never taught you that. But Azriel had. Time and time again he had drilled into you that your first priority should be making sure any innocents made it to safety - you cursed yourself for forgetting what he had taught you.

“Just let her go,” you said, attempting to sound stern, commanding, but failing as the bile in your throat made your voice croaky and weak. You flinched as that dagger pressed closer to Rita’s throat, masking the slight movement with a flick of the knife in your hand as you jilted your head toward the bar owner. “You don’t need her. Your fight isn’t with her, it’s with me. Let her go-” you spread your arms wide as an invitation to finish what you had both started, “and we can finish this here and now.”

It was then, as the soldier grinned in an almost unearthly manner, pushing Rita from his side as he took the first strides toward you, that you felt the pain; sharp and unyielding and unbearable right in your side, just below the final rib. A scream ripped from your throat, your bones cracking as you fell to your knees beside Rita, barely able to see the figure of the two soldiers - the one who had held Rita and the one who had snuck up behind you and pierced you with their blade - looming above you through your tears.

Your eyes slowly slid to Rita, even as the cobblestones surrounding the bar keep’s knees grew sticky with your own blood. Her eyes were wide, her skin so pale it almost seemed translucent. But that wasn’t important, not when those soldiers were still lingering so near, when the city itself was under siege, when your friends were out there on the streets fighting for their lives. No, what mattered was that female before you, your friend, an innocent.

“Run!” A pained croak that seemed to echo across the river. And as the two Hybern soldiers behind you muttered something about letting the Attor finish you off, the last thing you saw was Rita’s boots as they slammed against the cobblestones in the opposite direction.

A gnawing ache, just below his last rib. It only seemed to grow with every second that Lucien paced the bare stone floor of his rooms. At first, he had thought that it was perhaps his worry manifesting itself into physical pain - anxiety and panic ruminating in his body, only swelling with each second that passed on the clock. Each second that passed without him knowing if she was safe. If he had - in his loyalty to Tamlin - sentenced her to death.

It was his fault.

His fault.

His fault.

It was heinous.

The words seemed to echo through those empty, silent streets, carried on a phantom breeze straight to the House of Wind standing tall in the golden hues of the morning, across every rippled of the Sidra, across each and every blood-soaked cobblestone.

A putrid smell hung in the air like a heavy blanket on Velaris, that once beautiful city now turned to ruin. The place where so many had lost their lives that day. Amongst them you lay, unsure if you were dead or alive; unsure of which you’d rather be. Something warm and heavy lay upon you, crushing your body under its weight. The Hybern soldier, now dead it would seem.

You drew in a deep staggered breath, ignoring the sharp-shooting pain that ran through your stomach at the movement. If you could just keep breathing, keep inhaling and exhaling, perhaps you could make it through this. If it was even worth trying to survive at all.

No, of course it was.

Minutes, or even hours passed, you weren’t sure. The buzzing of flies spun around you, and you could hear the far-off caws of the crows, likely coming to claim their victims, the bodies of the soldiers that surrounded you, littering the streets of the city.

You dared a glance to your left, your neck tight and stiff. You almost wished you had never done it; the glassy stare of a young fae on the front steps of a building you presumed had once been a store gazed back at you, unblinking, mouth agape and tongue hanging out to lick at the ashes of the building that had fallen around you. A fly crawled across her eye, but the fae did not move. You looked up, eyes trailing over the body toward the sky, an attempt to dissipate the vision from your mind, but froze. A sword was embedded in the back of the fae’s skull. She looked no older than a girl - older than you were, but young for her limitless years. You wondered what the girl’s name had been, if she had lived in Velaris for long, if you had ever stepped foot into the store she now lay dead outside. This fae’s death was on your hands, her blood staining your palms. You knew that, just as well as you knew that the girl’s soul was now no more than dust in the air that you were inhaling. You could have saved her, if you hadn’t failed.

Was it truly fair for you to survive - to walk away from that battlefield when you had caused her death? That fae’s ghost would no doubt haunt that riverside for centuries to come, for longer than you were sure your years would grant you even if you did make it out of there alive. Perhaps you should join her, should go down with those you had damned to that fate, who had died defending their homes - defending Velaris.

Once again, as if she were still the mortal that wandered those frozen woodlands so long ago, death seemed somewhat welcoming in those moments of solitude, the heat of the body across you seeming almost like a swaddle, the type that would lull a child to sleep. Perhaps that was your fate, after everything, to die like a stray dog, forgotten and alone, with only those crows and the rising sun as your unwavering companions until your last breath. Your name would become yet another scrawled on the list of fatalities that this battle had already stolen from this realm.

Slowly, as if the very weight of the world you were trying to protect was upon him, you allowed your eyes to open once more, the sunlight near blinding as it continued its descent over the looming mountains that surrounded the city. A great groan ripped from your dry and aching throat as you pushed the body of the Hybern soldier above you, the resounding thud of the body slumping to the ground rippling through the eerie silence. You didn’t know how he had died, who had delivered the killing blow, and perhaps you never would. You inclined your head; there were no sounds of Hybern soldiers coming to collect their dead and rid themselves of any of their enemy that were still breathing, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be there soon enough. If you were going to live, you would have to move. Now.

Every bone and muscle in your body seemed to scream at you to stop as you rolled himself over onto your stomach, pushing yourself onto your knees. Your chest heaved with the effort, rising and falling with every sullen breath, every breath that you breath whilst those around you would not. One glance across your surroundings told you that the House of Wind was to your North, across the sea of the dead. It was illuminated by the setting sun behind it as if Mother Nature herself were guiding you. And so you moved.

You barely paid any heed to the bodies of the dead as you passed by as fast as your shaking legs would allow you. You crawled over their outstretched limbs, black from dirt and dried, coagulated blood. You ignored their glassy stares and tried to block out that smell, tried to avoid the gags that were pushing your way up your throat. That smell seemed to cling to the inside of your nostrils. The smell of death.

There would be time to mourn their losses later, to take in the faces of each and every fae that died in that battle, whether on your side or the enemy, when you reached safety. Your eyes slammed shut as you desperately dragged yourself away, willing your feet to move, to run as far as you could from that place, as far as you could from the faces that would no doubt haunt you.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, unknown to you despite having walked the route a thousand times before. It looked different now, no longer an ethereal paradise but rather only the setting of the bloody massacre that you had fought through. You moved faster, although you were more than acutely aware that should any of Hybern’s soldiers still be lurking down any of the side streets, they would likely be on his trail in no time, seeking out your body amongst the dead on the streets. Crimson blood stained the hand that you used to clutch the wound in your side, your own mingling with the blood that had been smeared on your hands from the bodies you crawled over, marring your skin, enemy and kin combining in the rivets of your palms after death.

But your vision was growing darker, blurrier, and your foot caught on something below; an outstretched arm hidden by your watering eyes. You groaned in pain as you hit the ground, not even trying to hide the sound from any enemy soldiers nearby. If they killed you, then they killed you. At least it would put you out of your misery. Your hands reached out to cushion your fall, leaving scratches and grazes along the heels of your palms.

That was when you caught sight of the figure that loomed above you. Freshly polished boots scuffed with blood and dirt planted on the stones mere centimetres from the tips of your fingers, reflecting your own bloodied and battered impression back to you, just one more amongst the other broken corpses that lay surrounding you. A squint, a hint of what you were sure was auburn hair silhouetted by the sun, and then a voice.

“Come now,” the voice said, smooth and warm and velvety. “This is no place to die.”

Your lips twisted into a pained smile as they curled around the word. “Lucien.”

And then everything went dark once more.

Taglist

Complete: | @loveshineslikethesky | @elleclairez | @lostpirateinwonderland | @judig92 | @old-enough-to-know-better73 | @atrashsith | @chanaaaannel |

Lucien Vanserra: | @luna-foxglove | @lumos-barnes | @cumuluscranium | @dreamlandreader | @enrichmenttimeinmyenclosure |

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- none in this chapter, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 1 - the ferrari firecracker

The Monaco air crackled with a tension sharper than any Pirelli slick. The first Grand Prix of the season hung heavy in the humid night, and its whispers all swirled around one name: Y/N L/N.

Y/N, the Ferrari firecracker, the girl who'd rewritten headlines and defied history by snagging a seat at the Prancing Horse. The girl who, in her debut race, had dared to breathe down Max Verstappen's neck, crossing the finish line a tantalizing 0.09 seconds behind him.

Max, the Dutch demon, the reigning champion with an ice-pick stare and a lead foot. He tolerated this new intrusion - her audacity, her talent, her unwavering smile - as much as he tolerated a pit stop with a loose wheel nut. Their encounters were barbed exchanges, icy glares traded across the track like bullets.

"Just a lucky rookie," Max had sneered after that first race, his eyes glinting with something that might have been grudging respect or simmering fury.

"Verstappen, i'm just getting warmed up," Y/N had retorted, her grin wide and unapologetic, the taste of champagne still sweet on her tongue.

Tonight, in Monaco, the tension was about to explode. The narrow, unforgiving streets were a crucible, their unforgiving turns a test of both skill and nerve. Y/N thrived in this chaos. Her Ferrari seemed an extension of her, dancing through the labyrinth, her instincts razor-sharp.

Behind her, Max lurked, a predator biding his time. Every lap he closed the gap, a menacing orange shadow chasing a scarlet spark. Their radios crackled with a tense interplay of strategies, engineers sweating over every millisecond.

Then, chaos. A misjudged corner, a tangled mess of metal and carbon fiber. The safety car came out, a yellow dragon swallowing the race whole. In the pit lane, the atmosphere was electric. Ferrari, smelling blood, gambled on an aggressive undercut. Y/N emerged ahead, the first time all race Max didn't hold the lead.

The final laps were a masterclass in controlled aggression. Y/N held her line, refusing to give Max an inch. Every corner was a chess game, every straight a duel of wills. The crowd roared, their partisan cheers a cacophony in the night.

As they crossed the line, it was Max again, by the slimmest of margins. But this time, there was no sneer, no dismissive shrug. This time, Max met Y/N's eyes, a flicker of grudging admiration mingling with the fire in his own.

Y/N grinned, a shark's smile in the fading light. The message was clear: next time, it wouldn't be so close.

This was just the beginning. The girl who had rewritten history was far from done writing her own. The grid may have embraced her youthful spirit, but Max Verstappen had finally acknowledged her as a worthy adversary. And that, for Y/N, was a victory in itself.

The Monaco night held its breath, a promise of fierce battles to come, a dance of fire and ice between a Ferrari phoenix and a Dutch lion. The season had just begun, and the world was watching, eyes wide with anticipation. Because on this grid, under the unforgiving spotlight, Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen were about to ignite a rivalry that would scorch the very tarmac of Formula One.

grab some popcorn lovelies ^^

[littlejuicebox]

Mindwinter Carol 5 / The Repeat

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.1K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

Astarion was at the bar, absolutely seething as he downed drink after drink. By the time he caught a whiff of Eirianwen’s blood in the air, he must’ve been on intoxicant number four or five. 

He’d lost count. 

The Ascendant thinks he’s imagining the smell. It wouldn’t be the first time the memory of that particular bouquet haunted him. But then the coppery, sweet, all too familiar scent of both his dreams and nightmares becomes overwhelming. 

The immortal’s heart stops.

It’s a strange sensation, feeling your heart stop in fear. One the Vampire Lord had never known until now. 

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / OOC Ascended Astarion because it follows my epilogue / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore

A/N: Ouch. Fun fact, Delilah is a reference to biblical Delilah and Samson.

-----

“Ani, help me do this. For us. Please.” 

Eirianwen is bleeding out, but she can barely feel it under the waves of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Astarion is clutching Rhapsody in his hand. He looks so lost and worried. He’s panting heavily. He’s drenched in splatters of crimson. 

She wants to reach out and comfort him.

But she can’t think. 

She’s lost a lot of blood. 

Everything is moving too quickly.

“Ani…” He says again, this time more urgently, begging her with his big, round, world-endingly beautiful scarlet eyes, “Please, my love..” 

She thinks this really may be the end for her. 

Her only thought is that she loves him. She loves him so much that it hurts more than the wound in her side. She wants to give him what he wants, even if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Suddenly, she’s using the tadpole to show Astarion the scars on his own back.

She loves him so much she’s ignoring the sickening sounds that arise as the beautiful hands of her lover, the very hands that have brought her impossible moments of pleasure and comfort, gouge giant symbols of a hellish contract into Cazador’s skin.

One moment of weakness from her.

The sickening screams of seven thousand souls.

And then everything goes black.

Astarion had been distracted by the scent of so much blood in the dungeons, the sickly-sweet, coppery, rotten smell overpowered his senses.

He’d nearly died after one misstep in battle, too distracted by the vile memories of this place to operate at his best. 

His weakness would’ve left Ani and his friends alone to face Cazador’s wrath. He’d almost been bested by the bastard that held him captive for two hundred years. 

And that bastard almost got to his Ani.

That bastard did get to his Ani before she blasted him away with ice.

Suddenly, he’s carving infernal into the bastard’s back; ripping into Cazador the way he himself had been torn into over and over again.

Cazador is getting off easy, in comparison – Astarion doesn’t need to make any revisions.

He completes the ritual. The feeling of so much power is overwhelming, at first, just like the coppery scent of this dungeon reminding him of everything he wanted to escape. 

Surely the new power will right all the wrongs, make him forget all the terrors of his past.

Seven thousand screams had been a truly horrifying sound, but it’s no matter, he did what he had to do. He did what he had to do to protect himself. To protect Ani.

After a moment completely engrossed in the feeling of so much raw power, he turns to face his lover, to celebrate.

And the first thing he sees as his new, all-powerful self is the sorceress collapsed on the ground before his eyes, Shadowheart at her side. 

How ironic, that the moment he gained power, he felt instantly powerless again.

Shadowheart was out of spells. They had one measly healing potion left between them, and that had been just enough to keep his little love toeing the line between life and death. 

The rest of the evening was a blur. He’d carried the elven woman back to the Elfsong; Shadowheart and Halsin did everything they could. 

His little love looked so fragile. 

He’d been so consumed by his push for power that he hadn’t even noticed the smell of Ani’s blood seeping out of her abdominal wound, drenching the layers of her robes in crimson. 

He hadn’t even noticed as she began to fade, pushing herself to give him what he asked for.

If she survived this, he would kill seven thousand more souls to keep her safe.

He would be consumed by nothing but her.

He would sacrifice his own soul if he had to.

He owed her that much… after everything. 

-----

Eirianwen doesn’t feel the blade insert itself cleanly between her ribs. But she feels it dragging between two rib bones as Edmund carves a searing arc through her flesh. And then the pain is gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

She tries to move, to cast a spell, but it’s too late. Paralytic oil surges through her bloodstream. Her hands are rigid; her thin fingers, well-made for both playing the piano and spellcasting, are stuck in a curled position. 

Useless.

Defenseless. 

Astarion was at the bar, absolutely seething as he downed drink after drink. By the time he caught a whiff of Eirianwen’s blood in the air, he must’ve been on intoxicant number four or five. 

He’d lost count. 

The Ascendant thinks he’s imagining the smell. It wouldn’t be the first time the memory of that particular bouquet haunted him. But then the coppery, sweet, all too familiar scent of both his dreams and nightmares becomes overwhelming. 

The immortal’s heart stops.

It’s a strange sensation, feeling your heart stop in fear. One the Vampire Lord had never known until now. 

In an instant, Astarion is sprinting toward the dance floor and throwing himself into the throng, searching for Eirianwen. All sense of decorum has left him as he shoves aside more than one dancing couple while looking for the sorceress.

By the time Ani sees the Vampire Lord, she is trapped against Edmund’s wide torso. The cold edge of the dagger presses flush against her neck; she feels a gush of warmth run down her side. Something like this is supposed to hurt, but the paralytics have already numbed around the incision. She vaguely recalls the last time she received a gaping wound to her side.

People are still dancing; no one besides Astarion has caught onto the threat. 

Just as the Ascendant is about to make the last dash toward Edmund and Ani, the sorceress hears someone behind them command “halt” in an airy, bored tone. 

Whispers of magic brush past Eirianwen and she watches Astarion pause on the tips of his toes, mid sprint, before his foot flattens to the ground. He is shaking with the effort to disobey the command; the look of absolute blinding wrath on his face was undeniable.

The damn alcohol had made him slow to react. Idiot.

A sudden gust of wind slams the crowd back, clearing a wide perimeter around Astarion and Ani. Several patrons in the crowd scream as they finally recognize the threat. 

Ani cannot see the woman, but she can hear the seductive purr that naturally rolls out of her voice as she speaks, her tone both cool and menacing, “Apologies for the interruption. But would everyone beside Lord Ancunin and his date depart the dance floor? No need for this to get… messier.” 

Delilah.

Eirianwen uses every last ounce of her strength in an attempt to blast this woman and her henchman with some kind of magic, but to her dismay she cannot move her limbs at all. She’s barely able to hold herself up; Edmund is bearing most of her weight. 

A strangled cry of frustration escapes her throat as chaos erupts and the crowd breaks away from the scene, running desperately from the building.

A bunch of rich cowards. Maybe she shouldn’t have saved them all those years ago.

Astarion is glaring daggers at the half-elven woman. Fucking Delilah. He knew the bitch was dangerous, but in his arrogance he truly never imagined she would dare to turn on him.

Delilah sends another wave of magic from her hands with a second simple, bored command.

“Kneel.”

Eirianwen watches in horror as the previously invincible Ascendant crashes to his knees, forced to obey the command by pink tendrils of malignant magic coiling around his limbs. It was terrifying to see the most powerful elf she knew crumble mere feet from her, outdone by a simple spell he’d unfailingly evaded as a mere vampire spawn. 

Her heart thuds in her chest, quickening the spread of the paralytics.

The reality is that Astarion feels the second compulsion, but this command doesn’t truly take. In a split second decision, he willingly dropped to his knees and let Delilah believe she had the upper hand. Anything to keep the focus on him and off of Ani. The smell of her blood was burning his nostrils at this point. 

The Ascendant suddenly thinks this all feels too terribly familiar. Has he become the predator, kneeling in front of his prey? 

Astarion’s eyes flicker to Eirianwen. And there, in the look on his face, the sorceress realizes that kneeling had been a choice. Ascendent or not, were the male elf truly trapped and forced to kneel before anyone, he would be unable to conceal the terror caused by his lack of control. She is certain of this.

But instead, the Vampire Lord’s face only contains rage mixed with the subtle flickers of the gears turning within his mind. 

Delilah reaches her hand toward Astarion and tightly grips his chin, forcing him to tear his eyes away from Ani and acknowledge the half-elf. She flashes him a sickening, arrogant smile as she stares down at the kneeling Ascendant, obviously quite pleased with herself. 

The woman murmurs, her voice deceptively sweet, “Hmm… I do believe this is the first time you have ever been on your knees for me. You’re so pretty like this, little Star. Shame it will be the only time I ever get to see it.”

She offers a condescending tut and a dramatic pout before lifting the hem of her dress and withdrawing a petite dirk that had been sheathed at her side. She grins as she flashes the blade at Astarion; she’s loving this. 

The knife comes to his face, The Vampire Lord feels a faint sting as she traces a thin line upon his cheek with the point, stopping to let blood drip on the blade as she holds the Ascendant’s gaze. Astarion’s jaw tightens and his nostrils flare as he chooses to allow the woman to move forward with her show. His hand balls into a tight fist.

“Hmm…” She hums as she examines the blood, and then her hands find purchase in his hair and she yanks sharply at the curls behind his ears, causing Astarion to grit his teeth in pain, “And for good measure.”

She uses the blade to cut a strip of the Vampire Lord’s curls. 

A yowl rips through the venue, and Edmund releases the blade that had been pressed against Ani’s neck; it falls to the ground with a sharp clatter. 

Umber has lodged herself on the man’s back, sharp claws digging into the nape of his neck as she uses her teeth to rip at his ear. He is forced to release his hold on Ani as the cat continues to voraciously defend the sorceress.

Astarion takes the opportunity and launches himself forward, knocking into Delilah on his way to Eirianwen. He barely manages to catch her crumpling form just as the doors to the venue burst open.

Wyll, Jaheira, and a Flaming Fist rush toward the altercation. Someone shouts a stun spell at Edmund, causing him to freeze and fall mid-scuffle, but by the time anyone turns to focus their attention on Delilah, she is gone. 

“Astarion–” Ani manages to choke out before her tongue stills within her mouth. Another strangled sound comes from her vocal cords as she tries again. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes as the Ascendant shushes her, quickly swiping at her cheeks to catch the falling droplets.

And then he forces himself to tear his gaze away from the sorceress’s face and fall into commander mode, clinging to every shred of his control and stifling his fear. 

But gods, he’s terrified. He hasn’t felt like this since–

No time for that now. 

“We don’t have much time,” Astarion starts as the others gather around him, “Jaheira, the rings I won at the auction, I need them. Quickly!”

Jaheira simply turns and sprints back behind the stage without another word. The Flaming Fist focuses on Edmund, working to restrain his passed-out form.

Wyll is glaring at Astarion, “I’m sure this is your fault you–”

“We don’t have time to place blame, Wyll!” The Ascendant snaps, “Delilah’s paralytics aren’t like others you’ve seen. If we don’t move quickly–” 

He stops. Eirianwen’s heart is slowing, he can hear it. 

His scarlet eyes, filled with the weight of a thousand things he’s never said, pierce into her golden ones. Blood trickles in thin streams down Astarion’s cheek but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“I’ve got you, little love.” The Ascendant promises, gripping tightly onto the elven woman. 

If she survives this, he will do anything she wants of him.

He will find his own soul again if she wants him to.

He owes her that much… after everything.

Ani suddenly thinks this all feels too terribly familiar. Can someone cheat death twice? 

The anguish Eirianwen feels because she cannot say anything is incomparable; she searches for an ounce of comfort in the beautiful eyes that haunt her dreams and nightmares. She is going to die, and Astarion will never know she found his mother. And his brother.

Her last thought as she’s gazing into Astarion’s all too familiar scarlet orbs is that perhaps this isn’t the worst way to die. Let her last vision in this life be of the rubies she willingly gave up and yet longed for every day thereafter. 

She will find them again in the next life.

Everything goes black just as Jaheira appears from behind the stage and runs toward them with the velvet box in hand.

-----

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[randomshyperson]

This Love - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter One

Summary: The Blip took away your most important person, but when Wanda returns, you need time to heal from the loss of other Avengers. You do that in space, and when you come back, it's the Scarlet Witch who welcomes you.

Warnings: (+16) mild angst with happy ending, mutual pining, friends to lovers, mentions of past abusive relationships, some make-out and kissing, with fluff confessions, reader being a little shit who teases Wanda for fun, hurt/comfort, general fluff | Words: 7.707k

A/N-> Instead of getting a decent amount of sleep, I wrote this until two in the morning. The story has the same vibe as the powerpoint one, it's just me trying to fix the canon and give Wanda some love. I hope you like my attempts at humor as well. I may have also written a smut during a work meeting, but it's really short so I don't know if anyone would like to read it. Good luck with this one for now.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

No matter how many times you took a deep breath and tried the knot again, your fingers were still shaky and you kept failing. 

With a frustrated sigh of resignation, your tie fell open against your chest and you stared at your reflection. 

The vivid flashes of the battle popped into your head in the same second, and you sighed again, lowering your face for a moment. 

Wanda knocked on the half-open door. 

"Hey, are you ready?" her voice was weak and tired but gentle. No matter how tired she was,  Wanda was always gentle with you. This was one of the things you loved most about her. "No, I'm fighting with my tie." You mumble annoyed like a child. Wanda smiles, however,  moving away from the door to approach you. 

You both know that she could charm the knot with a simple movement, and yet, neither of you steps aside. 

"It's a nice suit." Wanda comments and you blink away from counting her freckles, shifting the weight of your feet and smiling at the way she gives a warning tug on your tie.

"It was Tony's." You confess in a whisper, and her touch hesitates, her eyes returning to yours in search of any discomfort. You swallow dryly and lower your head. "All my things were in the compound.  I wanted to wear something special, and Tony was the only one who had a house..." 

"I understand." Wanda interrupts you gently because she realizes that you are about to cry. She offers you a tender smile and pats the knot. "There you go. It suits you." 

You give her a weak smile, nodding softly. 

"Come on, Wands. It wouldn't be polite to be late for a wake." You joke, getting a small chuckle out of her that is enough to keep you going for the rest of the ceremony. 

It's all so heartbreaking. Thanos took everything from you, even if the Avengers won this time. When the memorial was over, you saw Wanda talking with Clint from a distance, but you didn't join them. You were finishing the final arrangements with a certain Nordic god. Wanda came to meet you sometime later in the kitchen when the house was almost completely empty and Happy had taken Morgan out for hamburgers. And Tony's body had already turned to ashes. 

Her presence in the room pushes your thoughts away from that. 

"Hey, stranger." She greets you with a humorous nickname. It makes you smile. You return a frame to the shelf - the photo of the Stak Expo you showed Peter before he left, so the boy would have some idea of how much Tony really cared about him - before looking at the approaching redhead. 

"Hey, magic fingers, are you hungry?" You ask and get a weak laugh at her nickname.  You bypass Wanda to walk to the kitchen and she turns around, leaning on the counter to watch you. 

"I'm not sure." She says truthfully. "I'm not in the mood for food, but I think the last time I ate anything was dry crackers on the Quinjet on the way to Wakanda. That was about..." 

"Five years ago." You complete with a chuckle that makes Wanda sigh. 

"Yeah. Five years." She agrees sadly. You stare at her for a full moment before clearing your throat and starting to move. 

"I will prepare your favorite then." You say and politely ignore her comments that you don't  have to until Wanda smiles in appreciation. 

It is strange to have her back. You both know that this moment is fragile and superficial.  There are wounds in your relationship that started before Thanos but got worse after him. 

"Something's bothering you." Wanda declares into the silence that has settled after several minutes of small talk and light jokes, as you step aside to wash the dishes of the delicious dinner you have prepared for the two of you. Wanda returns to her original position, her back resting on the counter as you lather up the sponge with your back to her. 

"I have to tell you something, but I don't know how to say it." That's how you respond,  sincere though not so direct. There was no reason to deny to your telepathic best friend that you were anxious. She could literally feel it. 

Wanda lets out a small laugh, "Just say it at once." She suggests. "Like ripping off a band-aid." 

Her joke gets a short laugh out of you. Both plates are cleared before you sigh and say. "Thor is leaving and he invited me to go with him again. This time I said yes." 

There is a big pause. You both let it stretch out as long as it can, each waiting for the other's reaction.  The dishes are cleared and you wipe your fingers on the dishcloth before turning away. Wanda has not moved from her seat but is looking at a point on the wall, twirling the rings on her fingers with a distant expression. 

You swallow dryly and decide to explain why, imitating her position of leaning her back on a surface, in your case on the sink behind you. 

"Wands, I know for you it's like no time has passed. But for me, a lot of shit has happened in  those five years." You start trying to keep the emotion under control, although you could already feel your eyes burning. "I lost you. And Sam, and Bucky, and Peter. I was devastated. I know we didn't have time to talk about it, but it was bad Wands. I just...lost myself on some levels. You must have heard the whispers about Clint, or I don't know, you  may have even been able to read what people were thinking and you know what he did as  Ronin was bad and I guarantee you that I did infinitely worse things." 

"I don't mind-" Wanda tries but you deny it with your head, your eyes full of tears. 

"But I mind." You interrupt with a tearful laugh. "We both know what it's like to lose control.  To have a force that can overwhelm you, until the anger is all you see and Wanda I was furious.  And I wasn't the only one. There was no shortage of people to encourage me in what I was doing, asking me to burn the world all to the ground and I was listening. I just... Really  missed you." You confess and Wanda sniffles softly but doesn't interrupt. "When I went too far, I regretted it. Natasha found me and accepted me back into the compound despite everything. She wanted to do the same for Clint, but he disappeared. And well, she was there for me and I wanted to return the favor. At some point, Nat and I happened again." The confession took Wanda by surprise. It shouldn't have, she knew about your history and saw the way you were shaken up, or how you took care of everything and went to Ohio for a few days with someone named Yelena. Something hot burned in Wanda's stomach at the confirmation, however.

You didn't notice anything in her micro-expressions, busy playing with the loose threads of your clothes. 

"Natasha was all I had in this empty world that Thanos left behind. She loved me and forgave me despite everything I did. And now I've lost her too." You pause with the last sentence to keep from starting to cry, sniffling a little and that's the breaking point for Wanda to come closer and take her hands to yours, caressing your skin. 

"I'm so sorry, detka. I really am." She says and you nod tearfully. 

"I know, Wands, so do I. For Vis." You say, and the name makes the redhead hesitate a little.  She hasn't been talking about it. 

You take a deep breath, releasing one hand from her to wipe your face. "I just need to get out of this place Wanda." You continue as calmly as you can. "I keep losing people and losing control with it. I don't want that. Thor can help me, even if Asgard doesn't exist anymore, he knows his magic. I just need a  little time out there." 

Wanda nods in understanding, holding your hand tightly. "It's okay, I get it." She says but you know her well enough to hesitate. 

Your hands squeeze hers back. 

"I need to, but if you ask me to stay, I'll stay without a second thought." You retort seriously,  looking at her without hesitation. Wanda's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "Tell me it's too much, that you can't be alone now after losing Vision and god, after losing Natasha too. Or tell me whatever you want, that you simply don't want to have turned to dust for five years and now have to watch me leave too. I will stay. I'll bury those doubts down, never do magic  again and stay with you." 

Your offer only proved to Wanda how much she needed to let go. That was the way you used to love Natasha too - Overwhelmingly and without limits - You loved Natasha until it hurt you. Even if it was too much, even if it wasn't healthy. Endless sacrifices until your relationship broke like glass, as fragile as your health. 

Part of  Wanda envied the dedication, another hated Nat for not freeing you at once. And that is why Wanda insisted that you leave. She didn't want to love you the possessive way Nat did. She didn't want to hurt you. So she let you go. And you loved her infinitely more for it. 

"It will be quick, I promise. I'll be back before you can miss me." Those were your words on the day of your departure. Wanda bit her tongue to avoid saying that she was already missing you now. 

Since the compound no longer existed, you and Wanda were staying at Pepper's house. Little  Morgan was the most adorable and crafty child in the world, but she was causing some unfinished business to scratch in the back of Wanda's mind, a thing she was ignoring to spend your last days on earth with you. 

She smiled at your words, retorting with a teasing "And who says I'm going to miss you?" to get your adorable pout and to keep herself from begging you not to go anywhere. 

You hugged her tight for a moment that, though long, didn't seem long enough.  And then you left. 

And Wanda realized how alone she really was. 

She has tried to ignore the old deed they recovered from the rubble but a few days after your departure, she thinks she has run away too much.

-//- 

You return to earth on a Monday. It is raining very hard and all your clothes are soaked. After mentally cursing Thor for the storm, you make your way leisurely through the yard to the house. 

"Y/N? Oh my god, you're here!" Happy welcomes you with great enthusiasm, and although you are glad to see him again, you are more eager to see someone else. Morgan has grown up and is becoming as sarcastic and intelligent as her parents. Pepper is working and asks you to visit her at Stark Industries. 

You don't waste time in doing it of course, but every second you are more annoyed by the lack of response about what really interests you. 

Where is Wanda? 

This is why you interrupt Pepper about the news. She hesitates and sighs before moving to the phone. 

A moment later, they bring you a tablet. 

"A lot has happened around here since you left, Y/N. From giant beings sprouting in the middle  of the ocean to mind-controlling gods of Egypt." Pepper narrated completely surprising you.  The tablet was placed in your hands, and it was open to a file with an icon of a sword, and the title was Anomaly Maximoff. "About the last one, our friend made some mistakes.  Recovering that information from SWORD was a billion-dollar courtesy, Y/N. And I'm  already warning you, it's even weirder than it sounds." 

As soon as the Westview recordings started happening you felt an immense pain settle in your chest. The files had barely finished and you were already getting up. 

"I need to find Wanda." That's what you said to  Pepper, who didn't try to be too insistent, figuring this would be your reaction. 

But it took you long enough to irritate yourself to make any progress. Until you realized that if your magic was failing, it was because Wanda was running away from you. 

So you showed up at the one place with other mages that she might not be able to avoid.  "Sorry, am I interrupting...?" You announced clumsily as you arrived at a scene that looked like the preparation for a battle. 

Stephen Strange was the only one there that you knew, and he, as soon as he recognized you, widened his eyes and raised his finger in your direction. 

"She's our answer, Wong! She is the solution!" Declared the sorcerer, to which you and the others raised confused eyebrows. 

"Is it some kind of riddle, Strange?" The Wong fellow asked. The doctor denied with his head, approaching you and gently pushing you by the shoulders into the center of the room.  "Kamar Taj, meet Miss L/N, former Avengers and Half-Argardian Sorceress, also, our last hope to stop the Scarlet Witch without a fight." 

You frowned.  "Sorry, I don't know any Scarlet Witch." 

Stephen laughed, patting you on the back. "You have a lot of catching up to do, space girl. Let's start with  New Jersey...." 

- 

Wanda was not having a good day. 

The voices were impatient. And mocking her for failing to fool Strange. A very low part was glad that she had failed, a hope of the plan not working and the child being safe.  But the other voices silenced that very quickly.

She was being reasonable, they said. Offer them the chance to surrender. If they don't, it's their fault if she hurt them. 

She just wants the boys back. 

The Kamar Taj was strangely peaceful when she arrived, however. Wanda was not stupid,  she expected at least a position of defense. 

However, she arrived to magicians reading and teaching, and polite smiles from those who met her gaze. 

Without any resistance, she can walk through the front door. 

"Miss Maximoff, welcome to the Kamar Taj." Greeted an Asian man that Wanda quickly recognized as the Sorcerer Supreme. 

Doctor Strange approached beside him. "Wanda, welcome." He said gently, and the scene was very odd to her. Wanda expected the hostility from before, but she recovered quickly and raised her chin. 

"Thank you. But I'm here for- 

"America, yes." Strange completed with a fake smile. "She's inside, I believe you are  merciful enough to let her have one last meal, yes?" 

Wanda clenched her jaw. Whatever this passive-aggressive pretense was, it was getting on her nerves, but she played along. It wasn't as if anyone there had the power to stop her. 

She followed the magicians inside and was led into a study room. Before she could ask where the child was, a voice was speaking. 

"The Scarlet Witch can also be given the title Queen of Chaos." Your voice made Wanda shudder from head to toe. Something hot burned in her chest, and she felt her eyes fill with tears. But she dug her nails into her palms and held them in. Strange and Wong used her shock to sneak out of the room. 

You swiveled the chair you were sitting in, and seeing you again was almost as overwhelming as hearing you. The sentence you said was clearly from the book in your lap,  and you raised your eyes from the page to Wanda, a smile playing on your lips. "And to  think I was right all this time to call you a princess, Wands." 

She wanted to laugh. God, Wanda wanted to cry. To hold you and relieve the yearning in her chest for your presence. But something fought for control. 

"I'm not here for you." That's what she said between her teeth, trying to keep her tears in place and her emotions under control. 

You paid no attention to her aggressiveness, closing the book and returning it to the table before rolling across the top to cross the room quickly. 

"I'm not here for you, jeez, someone is in the emo phase again." You scoffed as you did an imitation of her serious voice and accent and Wanda locked her jaw, her eyes reddening. You just chucked at her reaction. "Don't do that, Wands. A vast galaxy and I have failed to find  green eyes as beautiful as yours. Bring them back, I've missed it." Wanda choked, failing to contain the redness in her cheeks. 

You were different, it was evident. That was flirtatious, brazen and charming. But you were not the only one who had changed. 

"They think you can stop me?" She deduces then, her brain screaming at her to find a way to escape your presence and do what she came to do at once. You laugh short and Wanda is twiddling her fingers as you continue to move closer. 

"I don't care what they think or want. I am here for you." That's what you say to her and  Wanda finds it amazing that she’s not crying. It must be because you are close enough to touch her and this possibility makes her completely still. You look at her with a tenderness that Wanda feels she doesn't deserve and asks in a tone way too gentle to deal with someone who had plans to tear this place to the ground. "I really missed you and I would like to hug my friend. Is it okay if I do that?" Wanda feels her cheeks wet and lowers her face at the same time, hoping to hide the tears you've already seen. She closes her eyes and nods, and the next second your arms wrap around her. 

She only realizes how much she has missed human contact when she has it again. Her breath catches in her throat and the soft caresses you do on her back don't help the sighs that want to come out to fade away. Wanda feels warm and ashamed, but you just keep holding her. 

"Can you pause your evil wizard vibe for five minutes, Wands? I wanted to take you out like we used to." You ask lowly. 

Your invitation makes her hesitate, and that makes you let go. Wanda almost asks you to do more than a hug when she finds your gentle eyes so close, but she swallows dryly and retorts: "I'm busy, Y/N. And it's important. I have to-" 

"Steal the girl's powers, yeah, the mages told me the story." You interrupted, and despite the severity of the facts, you kept smiling at Wanda and looking at her as if she deserved the world. "Can't you eat something before you break the multiverse?" This time your joke gets a  breathless chuckle from her and it's enough to make your smile even wider. You give a little jump of excitement, your eyes insistently searching Wanda's until she sighs and agrees and you let out another exclamation of celebration. 

Your hand glides into hers with naturalness and Wanda has to dig her nails into the other one so as not to melt with a single touch. 

"This place is huge, witchy, but I've already learned almost all the secret passages." You confide in her as if no time has passed, and you are on a fun ride. 

On the way out, you wave to Strange and Wong, who seem tense to see how things were going, and Wanda has to push the voices telling her to finish the job away, and it's not hard with your warm hand in hers. 

You take her through the busy streets as if you were at home. 

"Can you believe I've never been to Nepal? To think Natasha made me go all around Asia, but never here." You commented casually and Wanda almost shudders at the sudden mention of  Nat. She hasn't heard that name in a long time, and hearing you speak so calmly makes her realize that your time away has helped you with your grief. And that's exactly what she says to you, to which you let out another light laugh. "Well not everyone can create a sitcom life." Your response is not a provocation or repression, but Wanda is so shocked that she stops walking at once and pulls her hand hard against her own chest. 

Regret fills your face in the same second, but it is she who speaks first. "How did you...?" "The first thing I did when I came back was to look for you." You begin to explain before she even completes the question. "SWORD recorded the whole thing, and Potts recovered the files. An exchange of favors I imagine. That's not relevant. What is relevant..." you say,  approaching her and making Wanda hold her breath. Your gaze is serious and intense, and one of your hands meets her cheek. “Wands. You swore you were fine, that I could go. Do you realize how guilty I am feeling for leaving you alone?" 

Wanda closes her eyes for a moment, letting the tears fall as she takes a deep breath. "I am not your responsibility, Y/N." 

You hesitate, frowning slightly. "No, you are my best friend." You retort still without sounding angry, and Wanda shudders when your other hand reaches for her cheek. "Most of the time, you are more." 

"God, I can't  do this right now." Wanda breaks the moment at once, her voice husky and affected as she pulls away with wet eyes. You let your hands fall to the side of your body, biting your lip as you watch her. "I asked you to leave because it was the right thing to do. I kept fighting because it was the right thing to do! I killed Vision because it was the right thing!" She begins to blurt out. "And I freed Westview, I lost my family, my boys-" Wanda broke into a sob, needing to pause for a deep breath. "I am all alone. And I  just want my children back." 

But you sighed impatiently, and the reaction surprised her completely.  "Children who don't exist." 

Wanda locked her jaw and raised it in defiance. "They exist, in every other universe."

"They are not your children then." You reason without hesitation, and Wanda stares at you indignantly. But you are moving, and because you keep talking, she has no choice but to follow you. "Think about it, princess, just as you are not the Wandas from another universes, Billy and Tommy are not your twins. By the way, I love the choice of name, which of the two is  your favorite?" 

Wanda babbles in astonishment, trying to absorb your words, and you take advantage of her reflexive shock to buy food. 

You reappear at her side with delicious snacks and guide her to a bridge.  Wanda accepts neither the food nor your arguments. 

"I will leave this world and live in one where I can be with my children." She declares and you chew leisurely. 

"I thought you quit that whole fake life thing." You sneer and she huffs in offense, her eyes glittering. You bite back a smile, raising your hand to touch the tip of her nose playfully.  "Just messing with you, grumpy witch. Bring back the lovely green." Wanda grunts in embarrassment, but the color returns to her eyes along with a pink to her cheeks. 

"It's not fake. I'll make things right." She tries but you giggle again. 

"You will steal someone else's life, lie and manipulate everything and everyone to continue in a universe that is not yours, in a family that is not yours. It feels like a lie to me." 

Wanda swallows dryly but does not hesitate. 

"They are my children, Y/N." She insists and you swallow your food before asking:

"Speaking of them, that part wasn't clear to me with the three hundred edits your  subconscious made to the Westview transmission, but, are you some kind of virgin Mary?" Wanda choked in shame at the realization, stepping forward to slap you on the arm that only made you laugh. "Hey, hey, I have a point okay, as far as I know, RoboCop doesn't have a  dick and, you know how babies are made right, little witch?" 

Wanda grunted in shame, sinking her face into her hands for a moment. "God, I had forgotten how terrible you are." She muttered to herself before looking back at you, a smile threatening to break her serious posture. "For your information, not that it is any of your business, I am not a virgin. Vision could change into a  human form and that means-”

"Oh my god, I'm gonna puke!" You interrupt with a forced frown and are so childish that  Wanda can't help but giggle. "Fuck, the mental images I've gotten now. Not yours of  course, you are adorable, but he... urgh, I'm going to have nightmares."

 "Shut up." Wanda laughed shaking her head in disbelief at your reaction. You just kept up with her, and you were so pleased to have made her laugh that it wasn't long before you were looking at her in that way that makes her legs wobbly, so Wanda had to clear her throat. "The kids are mine, Y/N. Having a family was part of the fantasy but the pregnancy happened. My boys are real and I want them back." 

You nod in understanding, and look out over the landscape, wiping your hands on a napkin now that you have finished eating. The market is full a few streets behind you but the bridge it was almost completely empty, and you could see the pier clearly, and it was beautiful. Not as much as the woman next to you. 

"I like the crown. It suits you." You tell her suddenly and Wanda feels she’s blushing, one hand instinctively going to adjust the icon on her head. Before she can say thank you, you straighten up again and one hand holds her wrist. "The containment spell is here, isn't it? I  can feel it. I imagine it's for carrying that evil book of yours anywhere you want." Wanda swallows dryly. Your touch is so soft and doesn't match your firm tone. Part of her wants to pull your hand back, another part wants you to never let go.  "I think Westview is my fault." You state next and Wanda sighs. 

"It wasn't." She says taking a step forward. "I can answer for my actions, detka. I've made mistakes, and people got hurt. But you have nothing to do-" 

"I bought the land, Wanda." You interrupt by lowering your face and releasing her wrist.  Wanda blinks in surprise and confusion. 

"W-what? No. Vision bought..." 

You cut her off with a laugh. "Wanda, get real for the love of God. Vision was a machine. He didn't even have any papers, let alone money. He wasn't even a human being for a job. But I  don't know, you cared about him and because I loved you, I took care of both of you." You blurt out. "Do you think I couldn't see how tired you were getting from having to run from one hotel to another with him? Damn, I couldn't even blame him for not noticing, the guy didn’t understand human needs like sleeping in a bed, or having decent meals. And I knew you.  Your desire for a normal and peaceful life. I bought the land, and I told the microwave to give it to you as a place to grow old because you would, and he wouldn't. And I never said anything because you refused to see it, Wanda. It was a life with no future for you two, but you would rather pretend you could spend  years in the suburbs with an electric oven than think about the possibility of moving to space with me." 

Wanda is in shock at the confession, but only for a few seconds. 

"Vis never told me that." She says and you give a short laugh, turning your body toward the bridge again. 

"Of course not, things weren't supposed to be that way." You mutter mysteriously and Wanda frowns. 

"What do you mean?" She asks but at your lack of response, she grunts impatiently, poking you in the ribs. "Y/N, what do you mean?" She insists and you sigh loudly.

"Damn it, Wanda, what do you think?" You blast back. "I thought we had a chance! I  thought... I don't know. I bought you a house so you could have a real home. I turned down  Thor's first invitation to stay here with you, even though you and Vision were just starting to try. The whole team knew how I felt, except you. And he was the last to notice, Vis understood when I handed over the keys. He didn't want to accept it, thinking it wasn't right, but I insisted that he keep the house. All those years and you never looked at me the same way, but I just wanted you to be happy, even with someone else. That's what I told him, and he kept the story to  himself as I asked." 

Wanda's heart broke in her chest. She choked softly, and you looked away again. "B-but you and Nat-" She tries to argue, but you just give another sad laugh. 

"We didn’t work out. It never worked out." You say shrugging. "We started out bad and we ended worse. And when I lost you, we held onto ghosts of our relationship for some comfort, and don't get me wrong, I would love Natasha forever, just not in the same way as the first time. The only person I love like that is you." 

Wanda needs to sit down. But she thinks the whereabouts of the bridge are support enough for the moment. 

You sigh sadly, twisting your fingers together. "I'm sorry I didn't say all of this sooner. I was scared and insecure. You know how I am, and all the things that have been fucked up in my  past." You continue to speak, looking at the landscape. "And you were my best friend. You were easily the most important person in my life, and I was afraid of messing that up and being alone. So I chickened out and hid what I was feeling, how much I was falling in love.  When everyone on the team knew, I thought about confessing. Steve tried to convince me,  he was always great at speeches.” You recall with a sad laugh without meeting the eyes of the shocked Wanda next to you, who listens to the story without interrupting. "Even Natasha told me to move on. She had just found Yelena again and talked about lost time. And I almost did, Wanda, I swear I did. So many times. And all those times I lost my nerve, listening to my insecurities instead of my friends. Until the blip happened and you were just gone out of my life at once." 

The redhead swallows dryly, reaching up to take your hand on the ledge. You look at her with contact, and your eyes are moist like hers. 

"Can you forgive me?" You ask so small that Wanda sighs. 

"Detka, I have nothing to forgive." She says affectionately. "You always put everyone's feelings before your own, ever since I met you. I understand why you did that, I wish you  would have told me but I understand because I did the same thing." She confesses and you widen  your eyes in surprise, receiving only a tearful smile. Wanda brings her free hand to your cheek, "How can you think I don't love you back? After all we've been through together,  what we've done for each other. I wanted you the second I saw you. You were the only person who could make me laugh after I lost Pietro, and I loved your company even though it took me a while to let you know it. I wanted to kiss you so many times, detka. In my room watching TV or cooking together. But you weren't mine. I knew that whatever existed between you and Nat was important and hurtful, but it was still there. And your friendship was all I had and I couldn't risk that. So I kept silent, and I was selfless. I let you free and I  let you go, every time." Wanda lets out a short breath, releasing her hand to hold your face with both now. "And all this time you loved me back?"

You nod, ready to break the distance, your face tilting instinctively. Wanda's eyes almost close as your lips brush hers, but despite shuddering, she pulls her face back gently. You almost apologize, but she speaks before you can. "I could have had you all this time if I had been selfish for once. I keep losing all that’s mine, detka. I'm tired of it. No one is going to  take anything from me again, ever." 

You frown slightly, trying to think of what to say next, but all words fail you when Wanda's soft lips reach yours. She kisses you gently, but only for the first moment. As soon as you sigh, Wanda pulls away only to dive in hard, her hands firmly on your cheeks. It's hot. And fucking sexy. Her tongue asks permission on your lip, but she barely waits for confirmation to slide inside, hungrily devouring and exploring every inch of your mouth,  making you shiver. Wanda controls the kiss with ease and mastery, and your legs go wobbly,  so you hold her waist tightly, both for support and to feel her against you. She smiles into your lips, sighing in satisfaction at the new closeness. 

When air is needed, Wanda pulls away with a long sigh, and you are equally breathless, your mind half clouded with attraction. She gives you a few long kisses before opening her eyes,  but it takes you another whole moment to do so, blushing a little as you find her gaze shining with mischief as she watches you. 

"Come with me." She whispers close to you, against your lips. You blink in confusion, and she swallows dryly as she clarifies. "I want you with me. Leave this reality by my side."

 It's your turn to swallow dry and to remain unresponsive. You open your mouth, but can't think of what to say, and your hesitation makes something sparkle in her eyes. "Wanda, I can't..." You started but she firmed the grip on your face. 

"You said you loved me." She recalls with a fury shining in her green irises and you almost shudder. You bite your tongue to keep from giving away how affected you are now, it wasn't fair that Wanda was so beautiful. "Prove it." 

You grunted softly, moving one hand to her forearm and stroking the skin until she sighed and released the grip, letting her hands fall away from your face. 

You don't let her go completely, holding one of them against your chest. 

"I love you." You assure looking into her eyes, watching the anger fade from her irises and her serious expression falter. "With all my heart, Wanda. Always and forever. You know that, I'm sure you can search every corner of my mind and find the evidence. I will follow you anywhere and support you in your decisions. I would if destroying worlds was your heart's  desire, but I know it's not." 

Wanda frowns, trying to pull her hand back but you don't let go. "Maybe you don't know me  well enough." She challenges but you just give a sad smile. 

"I know you too well even." You retort. "Much better than the demons in your head, I assure you. The mages told how it works, the whole corruption thing. It shows your children to use the pain as a trigger. I bet they told you to burn Kamar Taj to the ground for the girl." 

"I need her powers to reach the boys-" 

"Do you really?" You interrupt in the same challenging tone. "Or is that all the voices told you? Because I don't know if you've heard, but there are plenty of spells that take you to another universe. Strange himself was playing around with that sort of thing a few months ago, and he's not even the supreme. And you are the Scarlet Witch, my dear. Don't you find it the least bit suspicious that the demons want to limit you to a child's portals?" 

Wanda hesitates, confused and indignant. You're right, but the voices are screaming at her not to listen to you, and it's hard to ignore them. 

"I-I..." She tries but you interrupt her by licking your lips. 

"They told you to destroy this place and kill a child. You, Wanda. The girl who would fall asleep on my shoulder when we stayed up late watching Bewitched in the tower or always put extra syrup on her waffles. And does a terrible mimic of all the Simpsons characters and  can name all the members of the countless bands she listens to." You listed tenderly,  making Wanda blush. Your face turns sad. "Before you arrived, they explained everything to me and gave me the books and I asked them not to fight. Of course, they would have no chance of winning, but besides, I didn't recognize the person they were talking about. This terrifying Witch of legend. God, Wanda, they told me to be careful. With you! My best friend. 'Don't mention Westview', 'don't be aggressive, don't challenge her. Rules and  protocols, and all I could remember was the girl i kept hugging while she cried for two whole days after Lagos." Wanda chokes, looking away with tear-filled eyes but you pull her back to you, a hand on her cheek. 

"I'm not that person anymore, Y/N. You have no idea..." She began with emotion. "There is something in my chest. A fury, and a pain. And I feel like it has completely consumed me. I  don't want to hurt anyone. But I will. I'm tired of losing everything." 

"I know what it's like, Wanda." You insist, squeezing her hands. "I wanted to burn the whole world when Thanos took you from me. And I was going to. Until I crossed the line and hurt innocent people. It was rock bottom for me. I was becoming worse than the people who hurt  me in Hydra. I was becoming someone that you wouldn't know how to recognize. And even without you, I came home and tried to continue being the same person you loved, because there was still hope in my heart that you would come back to me. At worst, I would die helping  what was left of the Avengers and find you in Valhala." 

Wanda wrinkles her nose tenderly at the mention of the Nordic paradise, knowing that this was Thor's influence in your life, but doesn't interrupt. You smile at her, sighing deeply before  continuing to speak: 

"You don't have to hit rock bottom too, I'm here for you. And I don't want you to go back to that place where you hated yourself. I can't let you keep hurting." 

Wanda hesitates, studying your face for a moment. "You can’t stop me." It's her last resort, the dark hold influence forcing the last argument with the clear loss of control of the witch's mind. You just give a sad smile. 

"Would you hurt me, Maximoff?" It's a challenge in jest, but just the possibility makes Wanda shiver. Still, she raises her chin. 

"I could if I wanted to." 

You hum, narrowing your eyes before tilting your head, your lips finding her jaw and kissing their way to her neck. Wanda melts at once, completely losing her serious posture and having to steady one of her hands on your biceps. 

"What a mean little witch you have become..." You sneer, teeth scratching at her skin, and  Wanda wants to push you away, overwhelmed with affection and attraction, but all she does is dig her nails into your skin, tilting her neck and giving you even more access. "Kind of  kinky this pain thing, but I can learn to like it."

"Can’t you..." She tries, choking on her own breath as your lips firm and start sucking hard enough to bruise, sending a straight heat wave to her belly. "Take anything seriously...for five...ah-minutes?" The delicious sound that escapes in the middle of her sentence makes you tighten your grip on her waist, and  Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. 

"I'm sorry, baby, but you're too beautiful for me to think of anything else but kissing you  every time I look at you." That's what you say, pulling your lips away to look at her so lovingly that her heart races just as fast as when you touch her. "And when you've seen  someone in slippers or singing the opening of looney tunes, it's hard to give credence to  their villainous era." 

Wanda forms an annoyed pout, and this only adds to your smile. She tries to break your embrance, but you kiss her again and she sighs before giving in to the sensation. It is calmer than before but just as intense. When her body heats up again, the feeling of your tongue on hers bringing butterflies to her stomach, you pull away, licking your lips with dark eyes, which sends a strong wave of arousal all through her body and leaves her speechless for a second. 

"I can't believe we wasted so much time not doing that." You confess in an affected whisper,  rubbing your nose against hers and making her smile. "Can I kiss you until you forget about  the multiverse?" The suggestion makes Wanda let out a short laugh, shaking her head and trying to bring some reason to herself. 

"Tempting, really, but I need to find my children." She manages to say, nudging your shoulder for you to release her. 

"We can make new ones." You joke receiving a sigh of indignation and a pinch in the rib that makes you pull away as you laugh softly. 

"Idiot." Wanda mutters in fake annoyance. She turns and walks back toward the Kamar Taj and you sigh before following her. 

"I would not dream of interrupting your determined march, your majesty of Chaos, but may I  suggest a proposal other than the murder of a child and the destruction of worlds?" Your causal tone makes Wanda laugh faintly despite the seriousness of her words. She was going to say that she wasn't going to hurt anyone, but she didn't correct you because the conflict in her mind was making her nauseous.  At her nod, you continued, "How about we burn the evil book, order some pizza, and hang out with the warlocks and the portal girl? She's pretty cool, you know? She's a little bit inquisitive, and she asks some funny questions. She also speaks Spanish..." 

"You're trying to make me like her so I'll give up stealing her powers." Wanda interrupts with a puzzled expression, and you let out a soft sigh, shrugging in confirmation as you continue to follow her. She also sighs. "What do you suggest as a way to travel through the  multiverse if not her powers?" 

The question makes you make a thoughtful expression. "Well, from what I've read about you,  being the Scarlet Witch is a pretty big deal. You can alter reality at will, right? Super cool, by the way. Can't you, I don't know, create a machine that has her abilities?" Wanda frowns slightly. "Humm... I don't know." 

"You didn't even try, did you?" you retort with a chuckle. "That's what I'm saying, Wanda.  These voices in your head are using your fears to manipulate you. I've been here for five minutes, and I've already brought an alternative solution. You don't have to hurt anyone to get your family back. You can find another way, and I will be here to help you." 

Wanda stops walking, holding her wrist with some hesitation. Her eyes scan your face for any sign that you are trying to trick her, as the voices say you are, but she only finds sincerity. 

"If we're going to do that, I can't stay here." She says looking at the entrance gate for a  moment. "America's presence might tempt me. I'm not... trustworthy. Not when I can still  hear them." 

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Wanda looked away, so you brought your hand to her cheek. 

"We need to fix this first then, Wanda. You wouldn't want to bring those demons to your children,  would you?" It's a rhetorical question, but one that Wanda answers in the negative with an immediate nod, a bitter feeling on the edge of her stomach. You stroke her cheek. "Don’t you know anyone who has dealt with that sort of thing? The only witches I've met are a  couple of galaxies away and I don't have a spaceship..." 

Wanda laughed softly, leaning into your touch for a moment before letting out a soft exclamation, remembering. "Actually I do know someone. The woman I got the darkhold  from. She was an experienced witch, hundreds of years old. She didn't seem the least bit  affected by use." 

"Let's go to her then." You said, kissing the tip of her nose, which made her smile,  before walking away. Wanda was about to complain about the lack of closeness, but you intertwined your arms and gestured into the air. "Go on, do your Wiggly Woo and teleport us,  scarlet witch." You scoffed in jest, managing a small laugh. 

Wanda conjured a portal, and realized, by the way, you were holding her, that you would not leave her alone again. And she was infinitely grateful for that.

--//--

Part Two | Series Masterlist

[pochipop]

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — PRINCE AU/FORBIDDEN LOVE DRABBLES.

#. synopsis! — drabbles featuring tighnari, diluc, & ayato as princes who’ve fallen for a commoner reader .

#. characters! — tighnari, diluc, ayato .

#. warnings! — mentions of genre typical hierarchical discrimination .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ TIGHNARI !! ♡

Curious Prince Tighnari who sends you love letters tied round the neck of stout pigeons; their beaks tip-tapping ever so gently against the sunlit window you sit beneath, a novel page tucked between your fingers. It’s been little more than a few days since you last saw him in the castle garden, your skin awash in comforting moonlight, but he writes to you nonetheless in delicate, melancholic cursive. He tells you of the longing you leave deep within his chest; —of the many times his mind has drifted far away to a place you reside alongside him as he flips through books in the castle library.

You imagine he sat down to pen this in the early hours of the morning light, rolling it gently, tying it ever so gracefully with a bright red ribbon that sealed his deepest desires inside. He tells you of the nights he’s spent tossing and turning atop his silken sheets, restless and fitful as he yearns for your sobering warmth. To have you in my arms, he writes, is the sweetest dream of all. And it’s one that he can’t often have, —one that goes by much too fast when it comes around under a blue moon.

Ah, —but those nights are none too average. The flowers in his personally-maintained garden seem to glimmer in the moonlight and sway like graceful dancers in the breeze. He holds you close amongst the flora, under a sky dusted with glittering stars; ones he swears shimmer just for you. The fur of his ears, a tall, proud symbol of his nobility, tickles your cheek when you rest your chin on the crown of his head. Sometimes, you find yourself wondering if you deserve a lover with such a lavish lifestyle; —if all the discontent you fear from both sides of the tracks have valid points laced within their venom.

Your lover soothes your worries down like a cat licking at the staticy fur of its kitten. His angelic touch alights your skin as he whispers words of love and devotion into your ear until the fire inside you has been stoked to heights once thought impossible for your demeanor. 

Tighnari slips a de-thorned, ruby red rose just beneath the scarlet ribbon, sending it off to find you.

I vow to you, my darling blossom, that we will meet again before the final petal of this rose has fallen from the stem.

＃ DILUC !! ♡

Pensive Prince Diluc who knows too much and is none too thrilled about stepping into the position of King in less than a year’s time. He was once the prize of his family, the gem of his nation, —a young man everyone thought would make the perfect ruler one day. However, now that the day is fast approaching, it seems like Diluc is in a constant battle with his thoughts and often daydreams about waking up a different person; someone simpler and much less renowned.

When he lies next to you like this, Diluc feels perfectly ordinary. He’s not the soon-to-be King, nor the preppy young Prince of his glory days; —he’s simply yours. And you don’t ask of him things he cannot provide. Your lips feel like sundrops sent from heaven against his neck, peppering along the column of his throat until you capture his mouth in an ardent kiss. He hums ever so softly, a sound that resonates like royal instruments from the back of his throat.

“Y/n,” he breathes when you slowly pull away, your forehead coming down to rest against his own.

Somehow, you know the next words falling from his tongue will be apologies for things you’ve seldom concerned yourself with. His propensity for shouldering the blame of generations that came long before him is much too great a burden to bear, even for a young man of his valiant strength. Thus, you’ve vowed (in silence, of course) to shoulder that burden with him, if only from the shadows.

You’re quite used to darkness, after all. . . It’s here that he meets with you under the humble moon, stealing kisses from your supple lips. 

“Don’t,” you say softly, in a voice just above a whisper, “—there’s nothing to say sorry for.”

Ah, but you’re so wrong. He knows he should apologize for the very state of affairs as they are, as he sneaks you around like you’re some sort of criminal who swept in from a nearby kingdom to swipe his heart away. He knows he should apologize for all the times he’s passed you by without a second glance, as if you were little more than a stranger when you’d woken up in his bed the very same morning.

Diluc swallows his apology, instead whispering to you something much more profound, something akin to miraculous for such a simple lifetime.

“I love you.” 

＃ AYATO !! ♡

Dutiful Prince Ayato who falls for you so deeply between lessons and hours-long studying sessions; seeking refuge in your embrace when his eyes go bleary from the stress. The weight of the kingdom rests heavy on his shoulders, but he braves the storm with a confident smile because he knows no other way. But when his head rests in your lap like this, you like to imagine that behind his sealed eyelids, he’s found some semblance of peace away from all the pressure.

He looks so ethereal, even when signs of exhaustion plague his handsome face. 

Your hand matches the curve of his cheek, his brilliant irises coming into view as his eyes peel open to stare up at you lazily. This is the first time in far too long that he’s felt so blissful and calm, as if sinking into you is all it takes to even him out and shelter him away from all the crushing responsibilities of royalty.

Here, with you, there are no expectations that he fears he can’t live up to. There’s nothing to plan for days in advance, careful thinking plaguing every little detail lest he make even the slightest of mistakes. Instead, there’s warmth and freedom, a chance to spread his wings and fly through the late evening sky.

“Love,” he says to you, voice dripping with milk and honey, “I’ll have to walk you to your quarters soon.”

You hum in acknowledgement having known the time for such was fast approaching, yet you make no move to hurry him along. Your fingers card through his hair, prodding softly at his sensitive scalp. It dawns on Ayato then that he much prefers the gentle brush of your fingertips to the frigid graze of any crown.

“You don’t have to come along,” you tell him. “It’s not like I’ll be getting lost.”

He appreciates the joke you make less so because it’s funny and more so because it makes you smile.

Ayato comes anyway, striding through the empty halls. They stretch on for what seems like miles in his lethargic state, suppressing yawns as his heels click against the glossy hardwood. Just inside your room, one of the small spaces offered to the help of the castle, the young prince matches the curve of your cheek to the plane of his hand. He brushes his lips past your own, diluting the urge to pull you in and kiss you with enough passion that it just might sync his heartbeat to your own. 

You’d do anything to have him stay the night, but the risk is much too great. It’s better if he returns to his room, —if he keeps his distance for now. You bite your tongue as he bids you goodnight, the taste of him lingering all the same.