#i think i have more? but might deviate a bit and come back to this again

[vagueeyes]

INSIDE NO. 9 | S6E2 "Simon Says" Costumes by Yves Barre

[hibernating-stag]

It's definitely more building on the events of my fic than anything that implied in canon, but I still really like the idea that Robo-Ky and Venom were living in a skeleton of an apartment while the bakery was taking off and it slowly gets filled with more furniture and personal effects as time goes on.

I think it might take a bit for it to properly sink in that the bakery someone else's home that they happen to live in. It's theirs and theirs to do what they want with it and that gets reflected in how it looks, yk (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) ?

[morganalatina21]

Too Sweet - OP81

When Lando tries to play matchmaker with his two friends, the negative response comes from someone he did not imagine

or

When Oscar wants to prove you wrong

warnings: English isn't my first language, not proofread, mentions of alcohol and weed, smut, unprotected sex, car sex. Smut have warning before it starts and after it ends! - MDNI!!!!

word count: around 2k

"What do you mean 'no'?" Lando looked at you as if you grown a second head. "Don't play nonchalant about this, that's his thing. I've heard you ramble about him before."

"Yep." You agreed, sipping your drink.

"So why the fuck not?" He crossed his arms. "You'd be bloody great together."

"Do you really think that, muppet?" You bit back, eyes still lifeless staring back at him. Lando nodded. "You don't understand man. I like him? Yes. Very much. So much is inebriating." You confessed, looking almost... tired?

"But I've come to the terms that we would never work." Your shoulders moved up and down. "We are so fucking different Lan, and you know that. He's like, kind and a ray of sunshine. I'm a mess, you should know this, I'm friends with you, that's telling."

"I'm gonna ignore this outrage statement because I'm on a bigger mission here." He continued, knowing you were deviating the conversation. "The fuck is that coming from?"

"When you like someone that much, you star to try and match your stuff with them." You shrugged, adjusting your hair on the mirror. "And as much as I want to, we just- don't. That's like you said, he is nonchalant, I'm way too chalant. He is so sweet, Im bitter. He is all composed and... I dunno... Like those fitness influencers who have insane wellness routines? You know. And I'm the entire opposite. He's sweet as a grape."

"Are you quoting Hozier's Too Sweet at me right now?" His green eyes looked at you in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

"Kinda."

"Okay I know you may be having doubts, but why not try? It's better than not try, right?"

"Okay now you're just quoting The Good Place at me." You mocked, hearing people bang on the door to the bathroom. "But you know that I'm way too down bad for him to just try and go along with it. I'm usually cool with this kinds of stuff, but... I know I'll just be delusional and want more with him."

"So make us both a favor and drop it, because I don't wanna have my heart broken, and you don't wanna hear me whining about it, sir Norris."

Oscar's eyes were trained on you the moment you left the bathroom with Lando at his house party. You and Lando knew each other since kids, and it was very obvious to everyone in that house, including him, that nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

You noticed his glance and just offered him a small smile before turning and starting a conversation with Max Fewtrell, yours and Lando's best friend.

"Thought you said that'd work." He commented when Lando came up to him. "I really shouldn't trust your matchmaking skills, remember the redhead you tried to hook me up with in Vegas?"

"Hey, she was hot! And liked koalas."

"She liked spiders."

"You grew up with both, mate, whatever." Oscar shooked his head with a smile on his face. "And she wants you, she's just worried you might not want her."

"What?"

"She didn't believe when I said you were down to meet her. She thinks I'm setting her up with someone who does not want her."

"Why would she think that? You did that before?"

"Not the case right now. She thinks that because she basically doesn't think she's good enough for you."

The softest "what" came out of Piastri's lips.

"Yeah, she even quoted Hozier at me."

"I... don't know what that means."

Later that day, when he was in bed, smeling a bit like alcohol and feeling his body light from the drinking, Lando's words came back to him. He was waiting to sober up more, although he was probably the most sober out of everyone in that party, including you, who at some point started trying to teach Pietra how to creepwalk, to which, you failed.

He kept watching you that night, from some distance, of course, to try and understand what you meant to Lando when you said "too different".

And to be honest, he kinda got that.

You weren't necessarily and extrovert, at least with those you didn't know, but with your friends, wow were you outgoing.

You and Max were doing shots at random moments of the night, a bet to see who would fall first. You'd drink whataver he drank, and he'd drink whatever you drank.

He smoked some weed, so you did too.

You took jello shots made purely out of the cheapest vodka you could find, so he did too.

Lando and Pietra were trying to keep up with the two of you, but it was in vain. You two were on fire.

And to be honest, Oscar liked that.

You probably didn't see it, but you were both bold, only on different aspects of life.

And he wanted to show you that.

So, phone in hand, he texted Lando, who was already on his own room, probably with some fling of his. The party had died down and only a few people were left, including you, who were downstairs probably playing truth or dare or never have I ever with the other survivors of the night, and him, who was in a guest room.

[What did u meant when you mentioned Hozier earlier?] seen 2:38a.m.

[she quoted his song to me]

[too sweet, look it up im busy] seen 2:40a.m.

[At least tell me the name of the song so i can search it, man] 2:40a.m.

[are youo actually stupid? the name of the song is TOO SWEET, im not compliemnting you mate.] seen 2:40a.m.

[i knew that] seen 2:41a.m.

[sure you did] seen 2:41 a.m.

Spotify open. He typed down those two words and sure enough, a song by an Irish man popped up. The beat was kinda animated, and he didn't though to bother searching up the internet to see what other thought of that song.

He took his own conclusion.

"If you can sit in a barrell, maybe I'll wait". In his slightly disturbed mind, that meant he still had a shot. He just needed to prove you two weren't so different.

And while drunk, he took an oath to do that.

.

For the 2024 season, Lando had hired you as his personal counselor, which was just an excuse for you to travel around the world with him.

The reason why? Oscar didn't knew, but he wasn't complaining.

That meant seeing you around the paddock a lot, even til the highest hours of the night after each race, post-debriefs and everything.

Today was one of those days.

It was after a session of FP1 and FP2 of the US Grand Prix, and the post-practice debrief had just ended, people moving around and starting to leave.

Oscar gathered his stuff and was ready to walk to his own car and leave.

That's when he spotted you.

On one of the halls from the McLaren hospitality, walking around in a jacket he did not recognize as any of the teams merch.

"Are you switching scuderias?" He asked, nodding the jacket direction, startling you.

You looked down, almost forgetting which clothes you were wearing. "Oh that's just from the next NASCAR winning team."

"You like NASCAR?"

"I was very frustrated when I realized Cars was about NASCAR and not F1, I might switch motorsports." You smiled.

"Good luck cheering for Joe Gibbs."

"Oh which one do you choose? Spire?"

"No, never. 23XI is way better."

You rolled your eyes at his statement, a small smile still on your lips, a huge one on his.

"I'll laugh to your face when Denny Hamlin ends Riley on track next cup, Piastri."

"It's on, Y/ln."

Two days later, after the Grand Prix, Oscar dropped the bomb on the interview.

"... Maybe we should just adopt NASCAR rules and end things on track." A knowing smile on his lips, looking at the camera.

He wanted you to know. He made sure of it, it wasn't just some comment, there was more.

"Mate, NASCAR rules? Are you insane?" Lando asked later, watching you perk up at that mention.

Oscar smiled and watched you, barely giving his teammate any recognition. You searched the internet, the key words you never thought would be put together: "Oscar Piastri + NASCAR".

And sure enough, there it was, the interview.

You looked up at him, slightly flabbergasted and changed your expression to a smile.

And God, did he love that smile.

.

"Disrespectfully, Fuck Papaya Rules."

Oscar phisically perked up when he heard that. He was strolling around the paddock and caught you talking with reserve McLaren driver, Pato O'Ward.

"Not only that's dumb, but honestly, fuck-ass name for a strategy."

He chuckled at that, hearing you from around the corner.

"Honestly I don't know if I'd follow that if I ever fill in for any of them." Pato admitted, shrugging. "I understand when it's for the Constructors Championship but Drivers? Fuck that."

"My favorite moment so far is when Oscar cut him right on the beginning, it was kind of a 'fuck your championship' moment, I live for that."

"Lando's gonna fire you if he hears you say that." Pato laughed. "Remember when you hit him because he didn't spray Oscar on the Hungary podium?"

"And I'd do it again."

"You hit Lando to defend me?" Oscar asked later that day, on the parking lot, as you were waiting for your friend.

You looked up at him and his smug smile.

That actually caught you unexpected. Oscar was coy, you knew that, but he was getting progressively bolder and more challenging.

It messed with your brain.

"You eavesdropping?"

"I just like to hear when people talk about me." He admitted. "Don't you?"

"No. I hate knowing what people think of me."

Oscar chuckled. That was kind of perfect, because he wasn't good with words.

"I promise I won't tell you what I think of you if I can give you a ride back to the hotel."

That was the main difference between you and Oscar: you were provocative, alluring, liked to get under people's skin, while he was straightforward, deadpan and liked to see people's reaction to brutal honesty.

"Sure."

.

It was the last race of a triple header, Brasil.

Five DNFs, the race and the quali delayed so many times, it was exhausting. Oscar finished P8, which, yes, was a bad position, but he was glad he at least finished the race, unlike five other drivers.

He was so tired, and it showed on his face.

No one even dared ask him or Lando how they were feeling because it was obvious, so he pratically slipped away from the mechanics and engineers.

And he found you. Sitting on the floor, back to the wall that separated his and Lando's driver room, texting rapidly.

He wanted so bad to have you to him, to talk to you before media duties, to have you on his driver room alone. But he and Lando weren't exactly on the best terms, so he couldn't just snatch away his friend.

Or couldn't he?

"Lando's gonna be late." He said, snatching your attention immediately. "If you want to come in."

"Yeah, in a sec." You went back to typing right away.

"You texting someone?" You nodded but answered back:

"Since when do you care?"

"I don't know, I just want your attention." There it was again, the honesty. "I mean, the person you might be texting can be cool and all but, do they drive at 300km/h for McLaren?"

You stopped, looking up at him, almost not believing those words actually came out of his mouth.

"He doesn't..." He smiled. "He actually drives for Mercedes and is a 7 time world champion."

"You're texting Lewis?" Oscar asked softly, smile vanishing. "Isn't he too old for you?"

"First of all, Lewis Hamilton could never be 'too old'. And second, It's not like you're thinking." You pushed yourself up, entering his room. "I'm just congratulating him on the Senna homage and asking what he wants to get me tickets for the next Kendrick Lamar concert."

"I don't know how many times I can offer to babysit Roscoe."

Oscar closed the door behind him, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He launched himself on the nearest armchair he could find and groaned, feeling his body ache, trying to stop the shakes on his body from being wet with the cold wind.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, voice dripping with concern.

"Yeah. My back's killing me, and I think I'm going to have a cold."

"Take a hot shower, I'll grab you some medicine." She instantly put the phone down, marching towards the door, but was interrupted when Oscar held her wrist.

"Stay." The word came out murmured, a gentle plea, his eyes closed. "Please."

It was weird seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so desirous, it made your heart fumble when he opened those soft brown eyes. So you nodded.

"But you're gonna lie down and get warm. I don't want you sick."

He obliged, draggin himself -and you on the processes, because he couldn't let go of you- towards the improvised bed he had on his driver room.

"But what if-" Oscar began, starting to lie down. "I get sick so I can escape from the media duties?"

"Can you do that?"

"It's worth a shot."

You smiled, pulling a chair to be close to him still, to which he thanked with a smile.

Surely after, Oscar fell asleep. You know it wasn't ideal, but you stood by and watched him peacfully sleeping. He was so soft, so cat-like, so pretty.

Your heart ached with how much you liked him.

And maybe, even though he didn't knew, he was showing you how you two could be a match.

When he woke up, half an hour later, you weren't there already, but he found the medicine you said he needed with a small note that said "You snore like a cat purrs (take care), Y/n."

He smiled ear to ear, almost all of the fatigue gone. He folded the note and tucked it in one of the pockets of his bag, leaving to the unfortunate meeting with the media.

Later that day, as Y/n was getting to her hotel room when she noticed something hanging from the doorknob.

It was a keychain in the shape of a cat, with a small note that read "To remember me".

Y/n rolled her eyes, but with a small smile on her face, that turned into a shock expression the moment she saw the things attached to it: two tickets for the Kendrick Lamar concert.

"Oscar Jack Piastri, you little devil."

.

"How was the concert?" Oscar asked, a knowing smile on his lips.

Y/n smiled widely. It has been a couple of months since Oscar Piastri started pursuing you; you ended up knowing what he was up to when Lando commented that he was determined.

And dear God, he was.

And it moved you.

You don't remember ever someone putting this much effort for you. That alone, warranted some points on his advantage.

"It was good, I actually ended up meeting Snoop Dogg also and we talked a lot about West Side." You rambled, watching his eyes get lost, trying to search his brain for any information about any of the words you just said. "I'm just messing with you. It really meant a lot to me so, thank you."

"Anytime."

"You need a ride to the hotel?" He offered. "Think Lando's not going back any time soon."

You looked back to the door for the party, the music still so loud, lights flashing in different colors and you could almos feel the smell of alcohol even from this distance.

Usually, you'd be inside going crazy too, celebrating that the team you work for had finally won the Constructor's Championship after so many years not knowing what that feels like.

But you were tired. So you took Oscar's offer.

His car smelt new, even though he had this car for quite some time now, his cologne, a strong woody scent mixed with the fresh odor of the seats.

"So, how does it feel, huh?" You asked right after he started driving. "Constructor's champions."

"It's amazing." He answered, and you could feel the tiredness and happiness from his tone. "It's exactly that, a reward for all the hard work."

"Driver's championship next?"

"For me I hope so."

"Next season's gonna be amazing." You smiled, hiding the sadness. "I mean, five rookies on the grid, Hamilton at Ferrari, hopefully Max's downfall?"

"May God hear you, Y/n."

"This sport was missing some emotion." Oscar stared at you from the side of his eyes as you entered the highway, which was completely desert due to high hours of the night. "I mean, to you guys there's always emotion but that's because you're driving, to us just watching cars go around and no overtakes, no fun business is kinda boring."

A mischiveous glint shone on Oscar's eyes as he pushed the throttle pedal further and further with each word you said.

"Osc, what are you doing?"

"Just thought you'd like a piece of the emotion like we have." He opened the windows, a huge smile on.

The adrenaline rushed through your muscles, eyes blown wide as the velocity increased, starting to grip the seat as you laughed. Oscar was so normal about it he was even driving with only one hand on the wheel.

"Fuck it, Imma act like a dog."

Oscar laughed genuinely as you loosened the seatbelt and propped your head out of the window, the wind forcing your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could barely breathe but that was a whole part of the fun.

"Oh my God this is amazing!"

"Emotion enough for you?"

"God, how are you guys so normal after every race?" You asked, sitting back down, heart beating so fast inside your chest. "I'd feel like I'm on the top of the world, honestly."

The song on the radio pushed your pulse to quicken even more. You opted for keeping your head inside to talk to Oscar, but one hand was out, dancing with the wind.

"God, I'm gonna miss this."

"What?!"

Shit.

He wasn't supposed to hear that, not yet.

You sighed, putting a hand on high thigh, feeling him tense up. "You can slow down now." He did, eyes constantly darting back to your hand, touching him. "The reason I was flying around with Lando and the team was because he wanted to give me new opportunities. And I got one in Italy, as a fashion designer. This is my last night working for McLaren."

Oscar couldn't believe what he was hearing, all his effort, all that he was dreaming for, to have you by his side every race just like this season but this time, as his partner.

He kind of thanked you for telling him to slow down, because his head was spinning.

"Italy is close to Monaco, no?"

"It's in Milan, a three hour drive." You answered, lightly caressing his thigh. "Lando already knew of that possibility, no one was supposed to get attached to me. I'm sorry, Osc."

He parked the car in front of the hotel, both hands now on the wheel as he was trying to calm down and grasp the reality of everything going on.

You were leaving.

He felt your hand lifting up from his pants and immediately grabbed it.

"I'm not giving you up."

"Osc-" "No."

"I didn't come this far just to lose you, not now."

"You're not losing me." He looked at you. "I'll just- I'll be in the country next door." You smiled tightly. "But it's okay if you don't want someone who can't accompany you, I get it."

"You'd wait for me?"

"What?"

Oscar blinked, his grip on your hand tightening, eyes intense as if he was begging.

"Wait for me, to be back from the races, wait for the breaks?"

"Osc that's thing long relationships go through, we don't know if it'd work and-"

He held your face. Gently, sweet, almost too sweet.

"We have until March. I want to try. I could never ask you to give up on something you want so bad, so that's why I'm asking you to not give up on us."

Us. That knocked all the air from your lungs.

"I can see it in your face. You want this just as badly as I do." Oscar's voice was low, sending shivers down your spine with the way he talked. "I already showed you how much of a match we can be, let me show you we can make this work."

You shouldn't, you really really shouldn't. If it all went south you didn't know if you could recover from him.

But it was hard to think when he was this close.

So you made a decision.

Even if it slipped away, it'd have claw marks from you. You were ready to try and keep him in your life with all your strength.

So you launched yourself forward, capturing his lips.

SMUT AHEAD - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

His kiss was desperate, hands full on launching themselves at your body and holding you tight, as if you'd start to slip away right this moment.

"Osc! On the car?" You laughed, breaking the kiss, to which he immediately bent his head down to kiss your neck.

"Just this once." He was almost begging, trying to get you free from the seatbelt and into his lap. "I've wanted you for so long, love, please."

Too sweet? No, just the right amount.

You clicked your seatbelt and pushed it away, hopping onto his seat, back meeting the steering wheel, chest to chest, knees barely on the seat from how big his legs were.

The impression was that Oscar was ravenous, like a hungry man, devouring every inch of your skin he could, levaing behind a trace of his saliva and maybe some hickies, but neither of you cared.

His breathing was uneven, hands roaming your body like it was the curves of a circuit he needed to remember and dominate.

"Osc-" You hummed, feeling his hard-on pressing against you, dry humping it, pulling moans from both of you. "Fuck!"

"Didn't peg you as a tits guy." You laughed upon noticing both his hands lodged around your boobs, guiding you through them to ride his erection.

"I'm a Y/n guy, everything about you drives me insane." He confessed, moving his right hand to your ass, moving your body around his lap, feeling your thighs shake against his hips. "Love, please."

Your hands traveled down his chest, nails grazing his skin on top of the formal suit he had on. He looked like a prince, even though he was ready to fuck you like a soldier. Finally, your hands worked fast to take his belt off and open his pants.

His cock, finally freed from his underwear, was so hard already and leaking with pre-cum. You smeared it around as started playing with his tip, feeling his hips buck upwards.

You were looking at his face atently, seeing his expressions falter at your touch.

Oscar's eyes found your and they were dark like never before.

"You're such a fucking tease." He complained, stirring around, trying to feel more of your touch.

"Someone has to take the lead, huh?"

A spark flew past his eyes, hand moving up and grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking it harshly.

"Osc!" You whined, head thrown back as his grip didn't loosen even slightly, sending a heat wave down your body, allodging itself in your pulsating core.

"Someone has to take the lead, right love?" He snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he watched you shake. "Enough with the teasing, pull your panties to the side and sink on my dick."

Fumbling with your hands, you found the slit of your dress and tucked your hand inside, founding the laced fabric that was already drenched, pulling it to the side.

Oscar helped you lodge on top of him, lining up your entrance and his lenght, one hand still holding you tightly by the hair and the other moving your ass around.

"Fuck, love!" He moaned as you started sitting on him, caressing your head, making you shiver and tighten even more. "When you feel it all inside you, you can take the lead back, m'kay?"

Your lips met each other's, drinking the moans away.

The further you sank on him, the more he sank on the driver's seat, feeling all the tension leave his body, finally feeling your insides.

Fully inside, he let go of your hair as he promised and allodged both hands on your hips, gripping you bot not forcing you to move.

"Think you're gonna last?" You asked, opening the buttons to his shirt, positioning both hans on each side of his chest.

He opened his eyes, the dark hungry was still there, much softer now, he looked drunk and so languidly happy. "We can leave the torture for the next times, can't we love?"

You wanted to tease him, and say maybe, that now the lead was back to your hands, you were going to make him last painfully, but you felt the tight knot on your low womb, and knew even you weren't going to last.

"Okay, Osc."

And you started to ride him, watching him give in and just become a moaning mess, still holding tight to your waist but completely gone.

"Fuck, love, you're- you're too good!"

You also didn't thought Oscar was going to be so talkative during sex, given his nonchalant ways, but when given pleasure he turned into a bubbling mess, talking nonsense.

"So good, so worth the wait." He mumbled, pulling you closer and moaning in your lips as you two kissed again. "You ride me so well." He kept going, as you started kissing his neck, wanting to hear more. "Don't stop, please don't stop, love."

His hands restored to gripping your waist and travelling up sometimes to carress your tits on top of your dress.

"You should be wearing less clothes, love, you're so pretty." He complained. "Are you close?"

"Mhmm."

"So am I. Cum with me, love." He groaned, voice too raw for his own good, messing around with your head. "Come on, baby." His hips started snapping up, meeting you halfway your ride.

A strained whine left your lips, hugging his shoulders and propping your head on your arms, launching your moans directly into his ear, pushing him further down his high.

"I'm- I'm gonna-"

Both your bodies started to shake and his big arms hugged you, pulling you closer, locking you in him as his cum spurted inside you, your knot finally snapping.

"You okay?" He asked a few moments later, feeling you go limp on top of him. "Still with me?"

"Shut it, Osc."

"Yeah, you're back."

You laughed, hugging him one last time before pulling up from him, immediately putting your panties back in place and returning to the passanger's seat as he zipped his pants back on.

He turned on the AC to clear the windows that became foggy from the heat irradiating from both of you.

You fixed your hair as much as you could, knowing it'd probably be ruined again when you went up to his hotel room. He offered you his blazer, to which you happily took and let it engulf you, hiding the hickied left on your neck.

He went around the car to open your door for you, helping you on your feet as he noticed your legs still shaking. He had that smug smile you got used to on the beggining of your flirting and it made you want to kiss him stupid.

"You think your plan of convincing me we're a match was 100% successfull?" You asked, crossing the hotel lobby still holding his arm, heading toward the elevator.

He leaned into you, voice just above a whisper, only for you to hear. "My cum is leaking out your pussy, you tell me."

You suffocated a smile, desperately pressing the button for the elevator.

SMUT ENDS HERE- WELCOME BACK!

.

"Okay so, I need to know." Lando asked, it was the day after the celebration, you were sharing a breakfast on the McLaren private jet with the rest of the crew.

You were sitting beside Oscar, Lando in front of you two, a little hungover but still curious.

"We're not telling you anything."

"You owe me this, I had to sit through one hour meeting with the pr team about not fucking in cars in the parking lot."

You choked a laugh, tecnically your contract with Lando was over, and you weren't a part of the McLaren anymore, so you got to sleep while Oscar and Lando had to be awake for a very stern lecture.

"Honestly, if you keep doing shit like this I'm gonna make you two pay for my therapy."

"Bill me, mate." Oscar snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he took one sip of a milk glass.

"Fuck you!" Lando answered immediately, shock written all over his face. "Honestly, I should've never put you two together."

"You didn't do shit." You retorted, throwing Lando even further down the insane hill.

He started to ramble about how he was the first matchmaker, how he handled you two talking about each other to him and it almost drove him insane, while you and Oscar just smiled.

You layed your head on Oscar's shoulder, sighing.

He was sweet, but never too sweet for you.

You breathed in his scent, a sharp woody masculine perfume that mixed perfectly with your sweet one. Exactly how you two were supposed to be, boldness in sweetness and sweetness in boldness, completing each other.

And whatever was going to happen to the both of you, you'd fight it, like he fought for you.

april 6th, 2025

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated! ♡

[waitineedaname]

i was thinking my little thoughts while falling asleep last night, and a concept occurred to me: what if binghe learned about the system not from shen qingqiu, but from shang qinghua

look, he likes shang qinghua alright. he's pretty disinterested in p much anyone who isn't shen qingqiu, but on the list of People Luo Binghe Tolerates, shang qinghua is relatively high. he gave him advice on wooing sqq, after all, and sqq likes his company, so binghe tolerates his shang-shishu

but the thing is, shang qinghua is a spy. has been for decades. binghe knows this. really, everyone knows this at this point, which isn't a great look for a spy, but still. and since shang qinghua is a spy for mobei-jun, who is a subordinate for luo binghe, then technically shang qinghua is also working for him, but you don't get to the position of demon emperor without a healthy amount of suspicion for everyone in your court

so he decides to test shang qinghua a little bit. nothing major, just a little poking around in his dreams. he starts out with a subtle touch, just sifting through his memories. most of it is what he expected. he sees his time on an ding as a disciple and then later as peak lord, he sees him working for mobei-jun. he sees mobei-jun in some compromising situations, which he files away for later, and then sees him in an entirely different flavor of compromising situations, and binghe immediately decides to act like he never saw that

then he decides to take a more direct approach and starts nudging the dreams in other directions, to see how he might react to certain scenarios, test his loyalty. he expects shang qinghua to act cowardly, or bluff his way through a situaton, maybe even draw his sword if pushed far enough

what he doesn't expect is for shang qinghua to frown at the changes luo binghe made and go "I didn't write it like this"

what

binghe is so bewildered by that response that he loses his grip on the dream for a second, and before he knows it, shang qinghua has spun the dream scenario back into the way the scene originally played out. he steps back and looks satisfied. "there we go," he says. "that's how it went. you know, if I'd known I'd be dealing with this scene myself, I would've written it differently"

what the hell does that mean?

fascinated, luo binghe continues to test him. most of the time, when he toys with someone's dream, they're completely unaware of the changes. shang qinghua, despite not seeming aware that he's lucid dreaming, seems very aware of how each scene should go. except for, strangely, many of the scenes that binghe himself was in. binghe pulls up one from his disciple days, one of the times he remembered shang qinghua coming to qing jing on some errand. he hadn't even changed anything yet, had just let the dream version of his younger self launch himself at shizun in a tacklehug, but shang qinghua tsks and takes the reins from him before he can make any edits. "sorry bing-ge, but that was just way too out of character," shang qinghua says. the dream copy of luo binghe's younger self is sent further away, watching the peak lords with a sullen gaze. he's skinnier than binghe remembers being at this age, and one of his eyes is swollen with a purple bruise. that doesn't make any sense, luo binghe thinks. he hadn't been beaten on qing jing peak for years at this point.

the shen qingqiu beside shang qinghua in the dream stands with his back straight as a ruler, and when his gaze lands on luo binghe, he sneers behind his fan. shang qinghua sighs. "cucumber-bro really wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was. he's way too soft to ever seem like the original goods."

alarmed, luo binghe dispels the dream and steps out of it entirely. sure, he knows shen qingqiu's personality changed almost overnight when he had that qi deviation. everyone knew that. he avoided questioning it much, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth when it meant having a shizun that cared for him

but shang qinghua. shang qinghua seems to know something more about shen qingqiu's personality change. something he's not sharing. luo binghe didn't like the idea that one of his subordinates could be hiding something as vital as this from him

well, this had been a test of his spy's loyalties, hadn't it? perhaps he should make a visit to an ding. he had some questions.

[lvmimis]

cw: fluff/comfort-ish although it's an overall mild conversation. mention of kidnapping.

Luffy is acting strange.

A little strange might be the baseline for him, of course, but what you’ve noticed in the past 12 hours or so is a bit different than his normal flavor of strange - he’s being odd when it comes to you. 

Your shadow as always, but oddly stiff, Luffy has been navigating around you far too carefully, as if you were to shatter the moment he touched you. His hands hover gently over any part of your body but he avoids touching you unnecessarily; you notice he’s hesitant to hold your hand, and from the moment you woke up this morning, disoriented slightly by the sudden rock of the ship by an unexpectedly large wave, you noticed his modest distance, his forehead gently pressed against the back of your head and his arm loosely draped over your hip, rather than coiled around you like a snake.

Careful, gentle.

It’s so unlike him it makes you nervous. 

“Luffy,” you start finally, once the two of you have a quiet moment, hanging back in the kitchen. Everyone has left by now for their own pursuits after dinner - a few comments about Luffy’s appetite being slightly less terrifying than usual notwithstanding, he was relatively normal. But he’s lingered, crossing his legs on his chair in that familiar pose of his. You didn’t rise, Robin being kind enough to help clear all the dishes, even the half-eaten meal before you (again unthinkable with Luffy around).

The longer you think about it, perhaps the two of you were left alone here on purpose.

Luffy doesn’t respond immediately to the sound of your voice and you repeat his name again, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You can tell he has something to say but is unsure what, and coax him gently to speak by running your hand down the length of his forearm, interlacing your fingers together once you reach the hand.

He turns slowly to you, and the look on his face is apologetic more than anything, surprising for a man who limits emotions more complex than anger and joy in his expression.

“I’m happy you’re safe,” he says, simply.

Yesterday you were kidnapped on your stroll through the city, while Luffy had deviated off your path for a moment to peer at all things shiny and good-smelling. You didn’t immediately follow, and used to Luffy’s lazy but alarming practical yoinks of your body in space, snapping towards his side, you weren’t too automatically surprised when your feet suddenly left the ground.

Until you were face to face with an individual that was decidedly not Luffy at all.

The aftermath of all of that was settled quickly, a flurry of fists and yells quickly resolving the issue, but that wasn’t the part that lingers in Luffy’s psyche.

“I wasn’t in any danger, really,” you insist, and you mean it, not even a singular bruise on your skin, or a hair out of place.

You squeeze Luffy’s hand then smile at him brightly, trying to raise his spirits, even if only in the way the moon reflects back the sun’s shine. He knows it’s true even if it doesn’t necessarily fix things.

He twists his mouth to the side.

“That’s not the problem, is it?” you ask, sensing his continued discomfort. “You can’t expect things like that to not happen, we all have bounties, and-”

“You thought it was me.”

You blink, taken aback, and Luffy lets go of your hand for a moment as he turns fully to face you.

“I came out right when you got grabbed, and you didn’t scream at first until you saw it wasn’t me.”

You pause, letting his implication sit in.

“Luffy, what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment, mulling the words in his mouth again, and your eyebrow furrows.

“You’ve said I was too rough with you before, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

You open your mouth and close it, considering the fact that you wouldn’t be surprised if he threw you off a cliff with the promise to catch you at the bottom, as it wouldn’t help. 

“I trust you, Luffy,” you say instead, unexpected Gum-Gum Rockets aside. “It’s okay if you get excited, I know that you love me and would never hurt me.”

He pauses for a moment, eyeing you as if to detect any softening of the truth, and perhaps you are smoothing over the truth, but you are telling the truth.

The rowdy man before you, a little too strong for his own good, perhaps passionate as ever, never means to hurt you, and loves you terribly.

“I’m sturdier than you think,” you remind him. With that, you offer him a kiss on the cheek, which warms him, and he’s quick to take your own face in his two hands, the grin back on his face.

“I’ll be more careful,” he still promises anyway.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a little playful at all,” you remind him, your hands gently covering his.

“I want you to feel safe with me,” he finally says, in a soft voice and you offer him back the biggest widest smile.

“There’s no safer place than when I'm with you.”

[hikato-chan]

Ooooh newest idea for a SVSSS AU!

SVSSS Omegaverse AU where Omegas can reject Alphas who try to bond with them and there are physical consequences for it!

Now, usually in Bingqiu Omegaverse Fics we have some way that the bond happens. LBH bites SQQ when he runs away in Jinlan City, or something happens in the water prison, or even in maigu ridge and SQQ eventually completes the bond.

An Universe where rejecting the bond as it's made has consequences or hurts the Alpha would be an interesting concept to combine with that!

First of all, SQQ would have thoughts about it. He would have hated the Omegaverse part, of course, but he also might not know how much a rejection would hurt an Alpha or how that rejection happens. LBG, of course, wouldn't be rejected by any of his wives.

There's a chance of a minor villain trying that with a future wife though, though it wouldn't be on screen probably. LBG would rush in to save her right after in appropriate timing.

So, he doesn't know, and doesn't ask. As no one would ever reject LBH he might not even realize what he did until it hits him in the face with a fence post!

And then Jinlan City happens. LBH hunts him down, pins him to a wall and all SQQ is thinking is that he's scared. He doesn't want to be hurt. He doesn't want this.

But LBH, high on adrenaline from the chase and dizzy from being so close to him, leans towards his throat not with the intention to hurt but with the wish to bond with SQQ. To never let him go.

He pulls at his collar, but SQQ is too scared of him ripping his limbs off to think rationally about what is happening. All he can think of is the hand that pulled the collar to the side having moved more towards his shoulder with the motion.

LBH bites him, and SQQ, scared about something else entirely, rejects him immediately. And LBH can feel that, through the bond he attempted to create. The panic, the fear, building into a wall to protect SQQ from him. The bond crumbles, burns, withers And LBH can feel every bit of it.

It's like a truth burned into his soul. A physical wound in his mind, a scab he constantly comes across and reopens. SQQ doesn't want this. He's scared. LBH scared him.

I think he would have startled back as if he had been hit. Stumbled backwards away from SQQ to give him space and maybe to lessen the pain the broken bond gives him. I think he would apologize and run.

And SQQ would stand there stunned, mind racing with the realization that LBH tried to bond with him. He would assume that it was Xin Mo, or his instincts, and that the bond failed because LBH didn't actually want to bond with him.

And so the misunderstanding continues!

If Maigu ridge still happens, LBH will wake up from his Qi deviation to a fully accepted bond with SQQ, who eventually learned about the rejection thing.

[jimmyscanongf]

what are your headcanons for jimmy having an obsessive crush on the (preferably fem) reader (but not necessarily being a yandere about it)? do you think he would tell curly about it? i kinda wonder how jimmy would behave if he had the feelings of envy and admiration he does for curly but for a woman

hmmm jimmy obsessive crush, envy and admiration? horribly long rambling thoughts below 👇

i think you’d fall victim to the other end of dehumanization: youre Not Like Other Girls. total manic pixie dream girl. youre on a pedestal so high that if you deviate from his image of you even a little, only pain awaits you below.

it’s less about your eyecatching style and more about your attitude. (though having a unique look about you certainly helps to catch his attention). i think that if you were like curly; high achieving, successful and attractive with little (to jimmy’s eyes anyways) effort, his envy would probably just mix with hatred. what the fuck does he need another goody two shoes picture perfect reflection of his own deep and terrible inadequacy in his life for anyways? and this one’s a fucking girl, to add insult to injury!

but say you were a little more like him, shitty childhood, rough start to life, downtrodden, broke, not overly successful, life comes harder to you than most others, maybe not the most attractive (i mean i think hes shallow enough that you would still have to be somewhat good looking), or even attractive but with an otherwise offputting aspect to you (maybe like, the Autism Look, or some alternative style that doesn’t try overly hard to remain conventionally attractive), cant really find love. and all that with like, a genuine intelligence, a genuine potential, still working towards a good life for yourself against all the odds, he might find himself attracted to you.

the thing that would make him envy you would be your attitude, your outlook on your situation. because say all the above about you were true, sure, he can relate to that, but if you had an easygoing attitude about it? not stressed about your status, not pressured to be more than what you are, not scrambling and striving to prove you’re worth something, just rolling with shit as it comes, stand up and dust yourself off when you fall, enjoy the good things in security when they come. not grasping desperately for every little bit of control that comes your way. yeah hes envious. here he is, beat down by life, mired in his own self loathing and feelings of powerlessness so deep he can barely see it himself, so deep that he hurts and steps on every single person around him trying to claw his way out, and you breeze through every awful thing life throws at you, a little scratched and bruised, but you continue merrily on, trying again and again. he wants what you have. he wants your fucking secret. how, HOW do you do it?! (and remember how unreliable he is as a narrator, so whether you’re actually so unaffected underneath his perception is another thing 🤔)

what would make him obsess over you is your understanding nature. if you were kind to him. say he says something scathing and hurtful on impulse due to his own insecurity, you don’t necessarily have to be a pushover about it, but if he sees the words roll off of you… and the next day you come back again. here he is, a complete dickhead, weird and unpleasant to be around, and you reaching out anyways cause, hey, you know everyone has a reason for the way they are, nobody is born an asshole, everyone has triggers and limits, everyone wants connection deep down, and everyone has the capacity for kindness. this outlook will kind of, stun and confuse him. cause girls usually tell him to go fuck himself when he acts like a piece of shit. i really think he might soften up a bit, we only see him in his absolute worst moments but he can’t be that awful to be around 100% of the time, there has to be something, like a sense of humour, maybe he’ll help you out with something (if he thinks he’ll get the same in return at some point) maybe he knows your likes and interests cause it makes it easier to get what he wants from people.

what would really seal the deal is if you were able to see and strike deep into the heart of his insecurity, and try to soothe him. opening up, with vulnerability, about your struggles. laying out some genuine commonality between the two of you and then telling him, with the utmost sincerity, that he doesn’t have to be defined by his past. that he’s valuable for the simple fact that he exists. that he doesn’t have to fight to prove himself, that he is already worthy.

and oooh jimmy is a man who is incapable of believing that any of those things can come from inside, that they are inherent to him. (he literally actually consumes a part of curly to try and subsume curly’s good traits into him.) you made him feel worthy and now he needs you, needs to have you, needs to consume you and make you a part of his life, a part of him! because he cannot possibly be valuable and worthy without you there to believe it. its just not possible. for all he tries to be otherwise, he’s a deep dark void inside and he knows it, so he needs you to fill him up with your goodness.

and you guys are like, just friends at this point right? but now he thinks about you all the fucking time and his eyes are always on you and he’s daydreaming about stupid sappy shit like you holding his hand, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you, he’s seen you smile at him but now he thinks about you smiling at him and it makes his heart palpitate. he barely even thinks about you sexually because you’re so pure to him, you’re his madonna, not a whore. but yeah. he’s watching you constantly, taking notes, plotting, scheming to make you his. cause he knows he can’t just swoop in and demand it, or even force it, he knows that’s a burnt bridge waiting to happen. he wants to make you want him. he wants to really seal the deal, and he feels like he really, genuinely has a chance. he just has to manipulate you juuuuust right.

i’m not sure if he would tell curly. because on one hand, curly is way more charismatic and better at romance and picking girls up than he is, so i can see him coming to curly for advice. hey man, help me out here, how do i win this chick over? on the other hand, he feels really weak for you, he doesn’t just want a fling to fuck or eye candy to hang off his arm, he wants you to fill him up because hes so fucking empty, and the last thing he wants is for curly to think he’s weak like that. and on the other other hand, he wants to keep you and curly far far apart because like, you’re just like Jimmy except better in every conceivable way and he’s paranoid curly might realize how hopeless he is, then steal you and drop him.

once he starts wanting you the change is noticeable to you and to curly, and everyone else around him. he’s suddenly nicer and more pleasant? he just seems to be in a better mood all around. he smiles more, its kinda nice. he jokes around. he’s more thoughtful about your wants, kind of pathetically fumbles his way through trying to meet your needs but hey, he never even tried before so that’s a win right? he cleans up a little bit. goes less time between hair washes, shaves more, picks up some drugstore cologne. fresh fit. he splurges money he doesn’t really have trying to attract your attention. he still can be a dickhead but now you can see him trying to proactively make it right (he looks absolutely pained and strained doing so) (also he does this for you and you exclusively). hes trying so goddamn fucking hard to act like the kind of person he thinks you’ll want to love. he’s giving you compliments that have you taken aback, giving you encouragement, giving you little gifts. hey i thought you’d like this. he looks away while giving them to you. is he blushing???

eventually he might even ask you out. but what happens next is up to you. you don’t know this, but if you reject him, you’re in for a hellish ride. because he’s not giving up on getting you, and NOW hes gonna be a yandere about it.

[ddejavvu]

Can i request a hot interrogator but w spencer😭😭and he recognizes her symptoms of attraction and theyre both just so awkward and derek or someone else has to come in and save him

i deviated from your plotline just a teensy tiny bit and it's not as focused on how they both can read her but it is mentioned! i hope that's alright <3 also i did tag this with morgan's name because towards the end he's teasing her just as much and i'd fall to my knees for him in an instant so i think that's fair

--

You give yourself away immediately with your reaction to seeing Spencer walk in. You don't know it, but the doctor has been watching your demeanor for five minutes on the other side of the glass, and only when your eyes met his own did you become tense.

Before you'd been almost bored, but not in the overconfident way that criminals often are. You were more restlessly bored, drumming your fingers on the table and peering intently at the graffiti etched into the metal surface.

When he steps inside you straighten to greet him, but words fail you as your throat runs dry. The most handsome man you've ever seen, something straight out of a romance novel steps into the room, and something thuds to the pit of your stomach.

You're not guilty but you feel it, you feel like a criminal under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Hello, Y/N," He offers, smiling measuredly at you, "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm here to question you on what you might have witnessed earlier."

You'd been in a gas station during an armed robbery. The robber hadn't shot you, but that was only for time's sake, as putting a bullet through your chest would have taken away valuable seconds that he chose instead to use rushing out the back door and away from the sirens out front.

You'd been at the business end of a gun, but still you're more panicked now, hands lowering themselves into your lap when they show signs of trembling.

"Can you remember what the shooter looked like?" He asks.

Brown hair.

"He had brown hair," You speak for the first time since the agent's entry.

No he didn't.

He had blonde hair. The man in front of you has brown hair, tucked behind his ears endearingly.

"Or- uh, blonde. He was blonde."

"Blonde hair," He nods encouragingly, his lips a warm pinkish shade as he sits down across from you, "That's good. Do you remember how tall he was?"

Spencer is tall. He's tall even when seated, like he is now, his stature surely intimidating when compared to your own, and you blink the thought away, trying to recall where on the shelf beside him the man's shoulder had come up to.

"He was a little taller than the shelves," You recall, keeping your eyes on a rather crude word etched into the metal tabletop to keep yourself from ogling Dr. Reid, "Maybe 6'1."

"Alright, good." Spencer praises, and you feel your limbs actually melting, surely mush by now. He hesitates, placing his hands atop the cool desktop, "Y/N, I'd like to do a cognitive interview with you."

You wait for further explanation, but when it comes, you guiltily wish you had been killed earlier. Because if you were dead Doctor Spencer Reid wouldn't take your hands in his own, and tell you to close your eyes in a smooth, low voice.

"I want you to put yourself back there," He prompts, squeezing your hands gently, "But I'm right here. I know you must have been scared in the moment, but I need you to help us with this, and try to remember what his face looked like. Can you do that?"

You can't muster words, but you nod, and evidently Spencer's eyes are open to catch it. He squeezes your hands again, "Alright. You're standing in the gas station. You're getting breakfast before work. You hear shouting, then a gunshot. Where do you look?"

You look at the backs of your eyelids, desperately willing away the mental image of Spencer Reid's face.

"What do you do?"

You pray that he's not a mind-reader, that he can't hear the words 'adorable' and 'terrifying' and 'perfect' all at once.

"Y/N," He prompts, after a moment of your silence, "What do you do?"

"I can't-" Your eyes snap open, and you wrench your hands out of his grasp, "I'm- I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Spencer's hands come out to hover in front of him, a placating gesture but one that doesn't work.

"Okay, that's alright. But please- sit down," He watches warily as you stand, heading for the door like you're exiting a cafe and not a secure government facility, "Y/N, I need to ask you a few more questions-"

"Woah there," The door opens before you can reach it, but the man that shoulders his way through shows no sign of letting you out. He's tall, darker-skinned than Spencer, and broad chested, something you really don't need to think about after the hand-holding fiasco.

"We can't let you leave just yet," The man smiles sympathetically, and his hand comes to rest oh-so-naturally on your bicep as he turns you back towards the table, "I know you're freaking out; anyone would after looking into the barrel of a gun. But you're safe now, okay? And we need your help to keep other people safe. So let's sit down," The man guides you back into your chair, and you think you might have dropped straight to your knees if he'd asked you to. He keeps his large hands firmly, warmly on your shoulders, and as Spencer takes your hands in his again he squeezes them.

"Alright Pretty Boy," The man behind you speaks, and you swear you can hear a glimmer of amusement in his voice despite not being able to see his face, "On with the interview. Don't worry Y/N, we'll do this together."

[skylinesnsunshines]

pac: the person you are becoming in a year (TIMELESS) -`♡´-

hi everyone! im back again for a 2nd pac for you all <3 the response from my 1st pac was so amazing so thank you all for supporting me. i no longer feel motivated to do readings for celebrities but i won't be entirely opposed to doing them, i'll just be more selective on who i'm reading and what i'm reading about. any requests for pac topics will be much appreciated! thank you everyone :3

disclaimer: all for entertainment purposes only, free will exists and energies are subject to change. if it doesn't resonate then it might not be the pile or reading for you. remember that this is a general reading, so i'm channelling the energy of the majority, not a specific individual.

(italicised is the card on the bottom of the tarot deck which is meant to represent the subconscious/blind spot of the situation + rx means reversed)

photo cr: pinterest | dividers | personal readings | tips

PILE 1 -> PILE 2

PILE 3 -> PILE 4

pile 1 ~ 4 of cups, 3 of swords, 9 of wands rx, the moon

okay so i want to reiterate that you have free will and i am just the messenger, so you don't have to claim this if this doesn't resonate. i feel a sense of rigidity with your energy cause i keep seeing an image of someone trying to bend steel and clearly failing. you may be running away or avoiding a certain situation due to it not aligning with your life plan. some of you might have virgo placements as well, cause i keep hearing that you "have an image to upkeep" and deviating from your plan will cause you a lot of anxiety. you may struggle with being okay with the unknown, which leads you to constantly seek reassurance from others or tangible things (e.g achievements). The main message I'm getting from this is to surrender, which is easier said than done but once you let go of certain expectations you will be reborn and no longer feel the dread of past situations that haunt you. you might be unhappy with your progress over the year, but remember that consistency matters most and you can't keep moving forward on a foundation that is easily shaken. i keep hearing longevity, which makes sense why you might feel frustrated about not moving at the pace you hope for because whatever skill or resource you are building will follow you throughout your life. i also get reminded of chappell roan, as many people are referring to her journey with the phrase "sometimes it takes 10 years to become an overnight success". i do think that this next year, you will be focusing on your healing and learning to let go of anxieties regarding your self-perception. now, the moon on the bottom of the spread tells me that the person you are becoming in a year is still hidden, mainly due to the choice that you have when it comes to your growth. there will be a lot of truths regarding yourself and the people around you that will help you elevate into the best version of yourselves. spirit's encouraging you to embrace the unknown, and be aware of the power that you hold within yourself. you have autonomy and are the deciding factor on the outcome of your future, the universe is here to encourage and support you into the person you want to become.

i know the tarot was a bit gloomy, but the oracles actually show lots of success and strength that you will find within yourself. the valley card depicts a situation where whatever the universe throws at you, your resilience perseveres as you have more resilience than you give yourself credit for. i love the panther card, as it encourages you to explore the unknown and to not limit yourself on the preconceived outcomes that you may envision for yourself. this card is encouraging you to embrace fluidity and limit the need to control on how it will unfold. a situation that you may perceive to be a failure today could be what leads you to unfathomable success in the future. the unicorn card also encourages you to embrace the unknown, you are destined for great things and it's important to learn to trust the universe. believe that things are unravelling for you behind the scenes and that you don't always need tangible things to measure your growth/success. it's important to remember that your path should not be compared to anyone else's and placing certain beliefs limits the outcomes of the person you want to be.

oracle cards ~ valley: deep personal strength and peace that assure success. 22 panther: no expectations. unicorn.

channelled song ~ one step at a time by jordin sparks

pile 2 ~ 8 of swords, 9 of swords, page of pentacles rx, judgement rx

this spread tells me that this year will teach you how to stand on your own, and uproot beliefs that no longer serve you. you might be someone who experiences a lot of racing thoughts, and you might struggle to manage them. i feel that within a year, you will learn to manage those thoughts and learn to trust your intuition more than your anxieties. you will learn to separate those two patterns for you to have a guide on what/who to trust. i'm sensing you might be someone who often sees past the surface and your innate gift is the gift of knowing, but it often frustrates you when you don't see movement in your physical reality or when it doesn't align with your vision. spirit's reminding you that you are so powerful, but you need to learn to let go of those feelings of always needing to know, we as humans living in this reality aren't meant to know everything as life is meant to be experienced and lived rather than entirely orchestrated. i'm hearing that in a year you will learn to embrace the unknown and make decisions based on how you feel rather than what you think. i think you could be extremely sensitive to energies (twin!) and you're being taught to really practice trusting yourself and your gut even if you see it isn't logical. you have so much inner knowing or guidance but oftentimes need someone else or physical evidence to validate your intuition, and the universe is saying it doesn't always work like that. the universe is asking you to look within and build a stronger connection with your inner guidance system and believe that you truly know best. the universe is reminding you to operate from a place of gratitude and trusting even in things that you don't believe other people will understand. this is a never-ending journey and within a year it'll be only the beginning of you living your most authentic life.

the boat card details the possibility of receiving a gift or monetary help through your environment. you could be enrolling in a competition in which you succeeded at or experiencing your luck through help from another individual. the eagle describes someone who is meant to be the light-bringer in the darkness of life. while it's important to say that this is not your sole identity, it aims to help you acknowledge your unique vision and honour your inner knowing to help embrace its unique energy. you might have been struggling to "fit in", but the spirit's saying that that's not your path and you are meant to stand out to inspire others. while everyone brings a unique trait to the table, your trait is to understand your light and not dim it for anyone's sake. honour your gift by embracing beliefs that resonate with your authentic self and bringing them to the world to show that not everything needs to be full of doom and gloom. crow energy is incredibly potent, and it is often a symbol of the occult as crows often embody a meaning when it shows up in people's lives. while this meaning is often deemed as negative, people misunderstand the crow as crow energy can only be understood with a clear mind. this reiterates the point of trusting your inner guidance, and also listening to your body when it comes to different experiences (eating a new food, making a new friend, etc.). crows are often misunderstood, but the universe is reminding you to have faith in your vision and that you are your greatest ally.

oracle cards ~ boat: money or property through an inheritance, winning or windfall. 30 eagle: you are more. crow.

channelled song ~ talk to me nicely by blxst

pile 3 ~ the fool, the hierophant, strength rx, 8 of cups

a new version of yourself will emerge in a year, representing stability and authority. you will have a new beginning, whether in your career, love life, or personal life. spirit wants to remind you to embrace your wisdom and share your gift of communication, as i feel that in a year people will feel called to ask for your guidance more. i also noticed that your spread has the colours orange, red and yellow so they might be important colours. since this will be a new experience, you might feel uncomfortable/unsure of your capabilities, but spirit's encouraging you to find a silver lining as this will test your resilience and self-assurance. by next year you will release a lot of the restrictions that you have placed on yourself, and feel that you will find a newfound level of strength when it comes to your resilience/willpower. i do think that initially, it will feel difficult for you to accept that you've grown cause i see resistance, but you'll eventually shed those feelings of tension and wholeheartedly accept the new change coming in. this spread could also indicate that if you are in a relationship, in a year the relationship may be elevated commitment-wise. within a year you will be someone who will be looked at with a lot of wisdom, and how people will look at you with amazement as you feel like you are trudging your own path. i feel that there will be a new sense of yourself that will emerge that puts you in a position of influence, wether that'd be in your personal or professional life. i see you as a really humble individual, and that you are sometimes even unaware of the strength that you possess. while humility is one of your greatest traits, it's also encouraging you to be more comfortable with being acknowledged and given your flowers. learning how to be confident authentically in yourself and your abilities is something that you could be experiencing. spirit's also hoping to bring your attention to a "lack" mindset that you might operate on. i don't see this as a bad thing though, as this lack seems to stem from the hunger and desire to always do better and be the best. your determination is what makes you special, but it's also encouraging you to sometimes stop and smell the flowers as you can sometimes feel that once you achieve something it's time to set your sights on achieving the next. spirit's encouraging you to pat yourself on the back and practice gratitude, as oftentimes your feelings of lack can sometimes disrupt your ability to be present in reality. overall, the experiences you will have within a year will shape you greatly with 3 major arcanas coming out, and spirit's saying that you are so deserving but to also remember to celebrate yourself and your achievements.

again the tulip card touches on the romantic aspect as it signifies great passion. so within a year, you might feel a new sense of passion reignited with another person, if that doesn't resonate, it could be a new passion for your creations or hobbies or even work. the antelope is encouraging you to be more mindful of your intention through movement to release any pent-up emotions you might have. on days when you feel it's difficult, it's encouraging you to move by not letting your circumstances fully dictate your worth. you are smarter than you give credit for, and you inherently know how to bounce back from difficulties. it's reminding you to move and trust yourself/your body to help you get through difficult periods. the first thing i notice from the eagle card is how eagles fly alone and at high altitudes, and that in a year you will embody the bravery of the eagle by learning and accepting your true self and trusting the path that you're on. you might lose some people along the way, but you've learned to be good on your own. i see for those of you who are manifesting a relationship as well, this frequency will help you attract a stable/secure relationship.

oracle cards ~ tulip: great passion. 27 antelope: shake, release, heal, move on. eagle.

channelled song ~ priorities by tyla

pile 4 ~ 10 of wands, temperance rx, 6 of pentacles, queen of swords rx

my pile 4's, you seem to be the provider group. you might have many burdens due to your self-perception/upbringing/environment. people look to you to provide whether that'd be financially, emotionally, with your time, etc. (this could also be cause you're financing yourself). i see that you might be the type of person to keep to yourself when going through hardship, that could be because your environment is difficult and it's encouraged you to develop a mentality of "trudging it out". i'm seeing someone who has a wound on their back/the back of their head and is unaware of how big the wound is because you need to keep the show going. everyone around you is asking you "are you ok?" and your response is always "i'm fine, keep going" and while your resilience is admirable, it's worrying to them given that they're able to see how clear the wound is. spirit's encouraging you to not keep to yourself and share the burden, as i can see that there is a lack of vulnerability you share with others. one of my favourite sayings i learned recently is that "shared sorrow is half a sorrow, and shared joy is a double joy", and i feel that this saying could be relevant to what you're currently going through. i'm hearing that in a year, you will learn to shed those beliefs of thinking that you're a burden and that you will learn to incorporate more balance in your life. these experiences will help you cultivate the skill of expressing your feelings and emotions coherently, also improving your mind/body connection. i feel that you have a lot to give to others, whether that'd be time, wisdom, or even loyalty but you might feel that since it's not tangible or physical you don't have much to contribute. for that i say, those around you who get to experience the most vulnerable parts of you see you as an even stronger person, because you also inspire them to undergo the same transformation.

you could meet a person within a year that helps you undergo this transformation, or be the catalyst of that change. it could come out of the blue and take you by surprise, but their energy seems so delightful that i feel like over time your friendship or relationship with them will flourish. the phoenix card tells the story of a transformation and reminds you that your current reality does not define what you will experience ahead. i see you shedding beliefs that ultimately don't serve you, and truly help you become the person you see as your best. i'm feeling a need for control with this group, so the buffalo also reminds that setbacks are an opportunity for upliftment. although it is natural to want to grieve and feel your emotions, it's reminding you to not sit in that energy for too long because of your resilience. you have gone through your hardest days and will continue to do so as you will experience days filled with happiness and fulfilment that reflect on the work you put in yourself.

oracle cards ~ handshake: a meeting with a stranger could be important. 42 phoenix: transformation. buffalo.

channelled song ~ the fighter - gym class heroes ft ryan tedder

so that’s it for the reading! let me know if it resonated and if you have any feedback, questions or requests! my ask box is always open for a chat as well <3 sending you love and light always :) hope you enjoyed it!

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt. 2

The first part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

A/N: This ones a little longer than the last one. Maybe a little more suggestive but nothing wild just kissing. Not sure if I should make another part?

Summary: The follow up to the original post. You continue to navigate your rushed and arranged marriage to the Lord of Winterfell, but he is much more earnest than you believed.

As Cregan had mentioned, there was hardly any courting to begin with. It seemed the only thing you learned about him was his parentage and more information on his family line than you knew what to do with. Perhaps you dwelled on the matter for too long, the last bit of light was gone from the horizon and the dim candlelight could not do much for you. Sleep would surely be hard to find as a result of your worrying, or maybe you were just homesick. Perhaps you could try and fetch the maester for a draught once you've changed.

Reaching behind you, you unlace the rest of your gown. It’s an ivory silk embroidered with the details of your house sigil. You try to free yourself of your corset but a string has been caught on some invisible clasp. 

“I forgot to mention,” Cregan falters for a moment as he realizes his intrusion, he seems like he might avert his gaze but his eyes never drift from you. Of course they stay firmly fixed above your neckline. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were…” What you have on under your gown is more revealing but you are still clothed, you feel no shame. Besides, if your lord husband cannot see you in only this who can? Your hair has become slightly unkempt as well, no longer so tidy and pinned but loose and deviating from its original style. You swear at one point you could see Cregan’s mouth slightly agape but you don’t dare to comment on it. 

“It’s alright, we are wed now are we not? And, I cannot seem to free myself from this corset.” You’re not sure where all this sudden bravery has come from but if you are going to be married to the fiercest man in the North you should wield it more often. Cregan composes himself with impressive swiftness and makes his way behind you. Just before reaching out to touch you he stops himself as if he’s been caught in the act. 

“Shall I fetch one of the ladies in your service to assist you?” He’s so close that you can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck and by then you’ve made up your mind. 

“No, it's fine, I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. Do you think you could,” Before you can finish your sentence you feel the tips of his fingers graze your back through the fabric as he carefully unlaces you. It seems as if his hands have left invisible indentations on your skin, long after he’s pulled away you feel his touch. “Thank you.” 

He turns away from you now, heading towards the wardrobe where a slim section has been filled with what little clothes you brought with you. He picks out a thicker cloak you’ve brought, not nearly warm enough to brave the worst of the northern weather but good enough to sleep in. 

“Will this do my lady? I could lend you one of mine own as well if you do not mind.” He must’ve noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin. Unbeknownst to your husband it was from more than just the cold.

“I would like that, but I think first I must admit; I've been far too hasty to judge. You, by all accounts seem to be a truly decent man and I know we still do not know each other well but,” You need to take a deep breath to continue as heat rushes to your face. “perhaps we might simply share the bed, as any couple would? That would surely keep the cold at bay.” Evidently your husband has become flustered as well, a red flush creeps up his neck and face. Barely visible to you but all the more endearing in the dim light. 

“Are you sure, we need not make haste, my lady. I know this marriage was somewhat rushed, for the both of us and there is no need to prove anything to me.” It was not lost on you that this marriage was advantageous, for more reasons than one. Arranged marriage was not something you looked forward to. As naive as it may be, you always hoped to marry someone you’d already come to love. Maybe some gallant knight or Lord, handsome and strong. But what's more likely to last is a marriage built on trust rather than infatuation. You have all your life to love your lord husband, tonight you can trust him.

“Yes I know. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me but I think it is no longer necessary. You're an honorable man, I can see that plainly now, I should've seen it from leagues away. I'm sure.” You take his hands in yours, as he once did and the blush on his face only becomes stronger. You lead him to the bed and urge him to sit, he leaves space between his legs for you to stand. All the nerves have dissipated by now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts. You place an almost feather light kiss on his cheek. “One for your kindness,” You kiss his other cheek as well, much more earnestly this time. “and another for your generosity.” 

His eyes cannot seem to part from yours now, ardent and serious. “There are many qualities I’d like to praise you for as well but I am not sure there are enough hours in the night.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, firm but passionate. His lips, like the rest of him are warm and all encompassing, you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You have to will yourself not to chase them when he parts from you. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared during the wedding, quick and chaste. “That was for your compassion.” A large thumb swipes against your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it. “Shall I give you another for your loyalty?” 

“Please.” This one lasts much longer, his hands have drifted to your waist now and your hands rest on broad shoulders. His lips press into yours strongly but he doesn’t demand anything of you. Even as he runs his tongue over your kiss-swollen lips he’s considerate. When you separate it’s with a contented hum and an understanding that if neither of you sleep now you never will. “Perhaps we should retire?” You suggest more than ask, snuffing out the candle by your bedside. 

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Before you can fully remove yourself from his grasp he holds onto the thin fabric of your shift to keep you still. In nothing but moonlight the only part of him you can see is the shine of gray eyes. 

“We were made one by this union, whether it was what either of us longed for marriage is our duty now. However there is no other woman I’d wish to be bound to in sight of the Gods. You are mine now, and I am yours.”

[cynthiav06]

A friend of mine pointed out that people tend to date those with similarities to their parents.

When I started poking around the PJO franchise, my brain screamed that when I looked at Annabeth and then Gabe. And now I'm thinking about how Rachel may have similarities to Sally.

Please share Perachel thoughts.

This is so GOOD. I am only mad I didn't make the connection first. Percy is a mama's boy, so it's obvious his first girlfriend is a reflection of Sally. Bear with me, this is going to be LONG.

I am going to gloss over the bit about Annabeth and Gabe because it's not as much of a comparison as it is an analogy.

[Before anybody gets mad at anon, he wasn't saying Annabeth is like Gabe, he is paralleling them because Annabeth's form of mistreatment against Percy is so subtle but so deeply unsettling that he hasn't noticed it himself and if he has been feeling suffocated he hasn't yet connected the feeling to Annabeth.]

I feel compelled to clarify a few things in Gabe Annabeth comparison and why it's unfair.

Gabe was in no way, shape, or form Percy's parent.

Percy despises anything remotely related to Gabe like alcohol or poker, so Percy would never be with someone who, even for a second, reminds Percy of Gabe.

Gabe was exploitative of Sally, heavily so with no love or affection attached to it.

Annabeth, on the other hand, does love Percy. She, however, does not love him the way he deserves to be loved because her fatal flaw and a few toxic traits get in her way. For example, Annabeth has a habit of taking Percy for granted and is not appreciative of his efforts. She shows toxic possessiveness over him and almost always gets physical with Percy due to her lack of control over her emotions and not knowing how to express them well enough. She has consistently shown a poor understanding of Percy's motivations and his choices and has a habit of putting blame on Percy in several unnecessary situations. Character development would have served us all well but it doesn't seem very likely because Rick is Rick and Annabeth's fatal flaw is hubris, which means she is unlikely to acknowledge her toxic traits.

Now, back to our main point. Let's look at some direct or indirect parallels between Sally and Rachel and some things that deviate from the mold of Sally's experiences.

Rachel, I think, has always paralleled Sally. She is a mortal born with the sight, something that Sally herself has gone through. Rachel is Sally's past, and Sally is Rachel's future in a way, at least when it comes to their sight. Yet their final choices contrast each other, which is very fascinating.

Sally is a writer, and Rachel is an artist. They both have creative interests and aspirations. They are both naturally compassionate and kind but also very strong-willed.

What Poseidon was to Sally, Percy is to Rachel, and I think I really like that parallel. Maybe in another life, Sally would have said yes to Poseidon's offer, and in another life, Rachel would have turned down the Spirit of Delphi and pursued Percy, and Percy would have pursued her.

(They represent the pathway to an entirely new world to both Sally and Rachel, and its a feeling you cherish forever.)

Remember how being in the rain or near the sea makes Sally look younger and healthier, I think Rachel has a similar connection to the things Percy is connected with. After meeting him, she does seem to like beaches more. Considering her vacation spot was a beach and she also went on a beach date with Percy.

(You might think Percy chose that date spot, but it was obviously Rachel cause Percy is a gentleman who would definitely let his partner choose the date spots and then prepare the date for them as they like)

Her visions begin revolving around Percy, and Percy himself begins dreaming often of her. Not just visions but in general. It is stated in Botl that he dreamed of running into her again and not being able to answer her questions.

Another thing is that Sally parallels Rachel in case of emotional nuances between her and Poseidon and Rachel and Percy. Even after all these years, Sally trusts that Poseidon will not abandon Percy and will protect him when it comes to it, even after her death; especially after her death. The same way Rachel is comfortable in calling Percy whenever she is in trouble or when the visions are bothering her [I think we get a mention of how Percy has met with Rachel's father in The Last Olympian and how Rachel's father TRUSTS Percy's word about keeping Rachel SAFE.] And for the shippers, he has already met the parents and they approve lol.

The trust goes both ways, too. Cause we know Percy is an extremely private person and doesn't like to share anything about himself unless he is obligated too and even then sparingly. Even after being friends with him for so many years, Annabeth and Grover are in dark about a lot of things about him but Rache who has canonically had visions about Percy and his experiences, who has the power to tap into Percy's past and Percy is just so chill with that. Like he knows Rachel knows cause he has had several visions of his own about her, but he just lets it go.

Percy Jackson of all people TRUSTS Rachel enough to let her peek into his past experiences, hell it's because of her that he uncovered the true meaning of the prophecy and then TRUSTED HER WORDS ENOUGH TO STAKE THE FATE OF THE WORLD ON IT. We all know he hates Luke like no one else has hated Luke ever and yet GIVES Luke the knife, not cause of Annabeth's or Hermes's trust in him [they have both been wrong before] but because RACHEL SAID SO.

Another thing that's reminiscent of Sally's relationship with Poseidon is the fact that Sally was in no delusion of who she was with. No delusion of Poseidon being anything other than what he was, a force of nature and a god. He was kind and soft with her, but she was not disillusioned to his other natures. The same goes for Rachel.

Rachel doesn't expect Percy to be some tamed down version of himself or for him to suppress his impulses or nature. He is soft and nice to her. She appreciates it, but she doesn't expect nor want him to be anything other than what he is. As evidenced by the lovely painting she gives him of Percy looking fearsome against his battle with Antaeus. It was such a sight that Percy himself was jarred, but Rachel said he looked good. She was totally fine with his darkside, accepted it, and understood it.

Rachel also has a very positive relationship with things Percy is passionate about. She has a keen sense for environmental conservation as we see her participating in a charity work (actual volunteering) in BoTL and we know how sensitive Percy is on rivers or oceans being unclean.

She also seems to have a great bond with Percy's companions. Like you are telling me Blackjack, who has trauma of his time with being captive on Princess Andromeda under Luke, and who is fiercely loyal to Percy, let Rachel just order him into going to CHB like that. Obviously, Blackjack likes her enough to let her take him without Percy's explicit permission and without informing Percy because he knows his boss cares about her. I don't know how we, as a fandom, moved on from that scene. It's so beautiful that Rachel is able to connect to Blackjack so seamlessly. And how one of Percy's first thoughts is worrying about Rachel's well-being as soon as he finds out.

Don't even get me started on how him, including Nico and Hades in his wish and demanding justice and respect for children of Hades, is what broke the curse on the Oracle. I think Percy knew what Rachel was going to do or what her role was due to him seeing the visions of May Castellan, and don't tell me he didn't include Nico in his wish for that reason as well. And he was still so panicked when Rachel swore the oath to Apollo, despite the curse already being broken.

There's also a point of how they are both very integral part of Olympus and quite above the others in terms of hierarchy. Percy is the twice savior of Olympus. Several gods owe him a favor, and he is the prince of Atlantis. Rachel is the vessel of Spirit of Delphi, a force that has existed before even the gods. The Olympians need her, the demigods need her, and she is under the protection of Zeus himself. The two most important people in the world exempting gods and other immortals are literally them.

This is why it bothers me when people say Perachel is a big what if. Perachel isn't a what-if. It already happened. It simply didn't last. Not because they didn't want to but because the choice was taken from them. But both Percy and Rachel chose to save the world and chose to do the duty expected of them over dooming the world and being in a relationship. Destiny is inherently unjust as it were. The only what if's are what if they chose to defy expectations and rules and got back together anyway.

The Savior of Olympus and the Oracle of Delphi are a perfect match, but fate would not let it be. Perhaps in another world, they would have cared less about the fate of the world or less about defying Olympus. Maybe when Percy becomes immortal, he will finally get a chance to be with Rachel. In my headcanons, that is how it goes. I admit I like the dynamic of the strongest demigod ever and the Oracle herself teaming up. It's not like anyone can top that duo. The power couple that they would have been, the fandom is not ready for it.

[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (2/3)

Several weeks into her affair with Vision, the voice inside Wanda's head urging her to end things diminishes to faint murmurs, eventually fading away entirely.

Chapter word count: 8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Warnings: Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Toxic Relationships

Notes: M rating this time. It gets spicier because what's between them is just pure lust. There will be a full smut scene that is a bit triggering given the context of how it happens, why it happens. I will mark it in red so you can skip it. Again, you will probably hate Wanda here more than the previous part, be warned.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

Part II

Comfort starts to creep in, wrapping around Wanda like a cozy blanket.

Several weeks into her affair with Vision, the voice inside Wanda's head urging her to end things diminishes to faint murmurs, eventually fading away entirely. And as she allows herself to indulge in the newness of his body and all the ways he is different and not what she’s used to, it becomes even more pleasurable (and addicting) for her when they come together. 

Wanda starts to think that maybe being with Vision like this doesn't take away from the love she has for you. It's almost as if she's compartmentalized herself—her relationship with you remains sacred, undisturbed by the dalliances that occupy her days. Vision has become a separate chapter, a deviation from the norm, but he's not taking the place of what she's built with you over time. Every night, regardless of how late it gets or how entangled she becomes in her meetings with Vision, she finds herself retracing her steps back to you. Her days begin with your face, and they end with your arms around her. There's a routine in that, a certainty she clings to.

Being with Vision helps her forget she's even in Westview. She's less haunted by the child she couldn't have with you, by the job she left behind for your sake. She dwells less on missing you, on feeling like she's become a secondary character in your life as you work tirelessly to provide for her. And isn't that what marriage truly is? More than the vows and the rings, it's about choosing the same person every day. It's about finding ways not to hold grudges, to keep the bond strong, to maintain a balance, right?

Her friendship with Vision, devoid of the usual societal filters, feels pure. They share, they debate, they laugh. But as the sun sets, Wanda always knows where she belongs. 

To you. 

-

“You’re kidding.”

Vision glances back at her over his shoulder, flashing a playful grin. They're in a park just outside of town, a result of those spontaneous drives they occasionally take. They've found a quiet corner, a place where they can be with each other, away from the rules of their complicated lives. Him being her student makes everything that much more delicate.

“Why would I joke about something like that?” he says, looking pleased with himself.

Wanda puts down the essay she’s reviewing and leans back on the picnic blanket, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You seriously want to buy art from the gallery?”

He shrugs, “I like what they showcase. Plus, I thought... well, it might be a good opportunity for you to earn a commission.”

It’s a weak argument and they both know it. She smirks, “Trying to impress someone?”

Vision pauses, taking a deep breath, serious as he says, “Maybe.”

Wanda sighs, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. “Vision, we need to be careful.”

“Careful? Wanda, we're miles away from Westview. I'd say we're being pretty meticulous about this.” He smirks, pointing to the tall trees that shield them from any possible onlookers. “With all these trees and not a bird in sight, we could even fuck right here in the open if we wanted to.”

Wanda fixes him with a sharp gaze, one that immediately conveys her disapproval. Immediately, the smirk fades from his lips, replaced by  a realization that he might have gone too far with his teasing. He reads the message in her eyes loud and clear. Not only is his suggestion off the table, but he also senses that he may have jeopardized his luck in the coming days.

“I… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, going back to his sketchpad. They don’t speak to each other for a while. Wanda is deeply engrossed in the essays she has to review, already behind the deadline she set for herself, while Vision gives her space to cool down from his mistake. Their arguments are always brief but intense, and lately, they haven't been leading to sex as often as Vision would prefer.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Vision starts, “How is it, being with Y/N? Being married, I mean.”

Wanda stiffens at the mention of your name. She's never discussed you with Vision, and a surge of panic begins to rise within her. She hides her reaction by neatly rearranging the papers alphabetically in front of her. 

“I told you she’s off limits,” she answers a moment later.

Vision feigns surprise, tilting his head slightly. “Ah, my apologies. I meant no disrespect,” he says, his voice carefully neutral.

Wanda purses her lips, her posture tensing further. “Just... let's not go there.”

Vision nods, though he can't help but steal a quick glance at the wedding ring on her finger. It taunts him everytime he sees it, reminding him of the life she shares with someone else—a life he often finds himself yearning to be a part of. He's been daydreaming about a different reality, where Wanda is by his side not on borrowed time, where he is the one she turns to at the end of a long day.

He's persuaded her to share her thoughts with him, to spread her legs for him; how much more challenging could it be to win her heart next? He'll take it one day at a time if he has to. Patience is something he doesn't mind exercising.

Cleverly masking his intentions behind a facade of casual curiosity, Vision continues, “Hypothetically speaking, if you were to give insights on marriage, just in general...What are your thoughts?” He leans back, making the conversation seem casual, though every word is carefully calculated.

She glances at him, slightly suspicious but not fully alarmed. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Oh, you know," Vision waves his hand dismissively. “It's just something that's been on my mind lately. As a concept, I mean.”

Wanda narrows her eyes slightly, studying him. She knows Vision well enough to understand that behind his seemingly innocent inquiries, there's often an ulterior motive. But she also knows that he's persistent, and sometimes, the best way to deal with him is to play along, to a point.

“It’s…” Wanda finds herself grappling for an answer. She hadn’t expected that the answer would be much more complex now given recent events. She used to look at it in an idealized way, where marriage is what happens at the end of an epic love story, the banner over the path that the two main characters continue their journey on; the natural conclusion when people say 'happily ever after'.

Perhaps she's been wrong to view it that way all along. Perhaps marriage is just a tool to peel back the facade meticulously crafted during dating, for nothing remains hidden in marriage. To enforce a commitment that's always existed. To harness the rights it bestows between two individuals. To—

Wanda can list countless facets of marriage, and yet it wouldn’t change the way she feels about you, with or without it. She can change—she has, and marriage can vanish from the world, her love for you would persist unscathed. While every fiber of her being might be judged for her actions, she believes her love can’t be tainted. She’s sure of it. And so, essentially, marriage is—

“...it’s an indemnity.”

It’s not at all what he assumed she’d say. “An indemnity? That's an... interesting choice of word.”

Wanda nods, pushing a stray hair behind her ear with a thoughtful look. “Right. It's like our safety net, not just from what's out there but from our own doubts too. It's us saying to ourselves—and to anyone watching—that no matter how tough things get, we're in it together.  It's a promise that even in the darkest times, we'll stand by each other.”

Vision absorbs her words, trying to see the cracks, the spaces where he could insert doubt or lay the groundwork for his plans. “But don’t you think,” he ventures cautiously, “that sometimes, that very protection, that indemnity, becomes the chain that binds? Don’t you ever feel... trapped?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, sensing the subtext of his question. He has a knack for drawing out the very things she's trying so hard to keep from him. In the end, she still ends up talking about you. If he's truly eager to hear what she has to say about you, then Wanda doesn’t care if he won’t like what he hears.

“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Wanda says with a wry smile. “To assume she's the one trapping me would be a gross misunderstanding.”

He laughs for a long moment. It's loud and over the top, and somewhere in the midst of it, it begins to feel like an insult. Wanda lifts her chin, unfazed by his antics.

After a few moments, Vision's laughter subsides, replaced by a somber look. “I apologize,” he says, even as Wanda goes back to her readings. “I didn’t mean to make light of your feelings. It's just... sometimes I feel like you're still lying to yourself, Wanda.”

Wanda's eyes narrow, her stance firm, but she doesn't rise to the bait immediately.  “How am I lying?”

There it is—his opening.

“Yes. Sometimes, I wonder if you're using these philosophical explanations as a way to protect yourself from confronting something deeper. Something you might not want to face,” he says.

She chuckles, but it's devoid of any real amusement. “And what might that be?”

“That maybe,” Vision says, crawling closer to her until they're just a breath away. “Maybe being with her isn't everything you once believed it to be.”

A retort forms on Wanda's lips, ready to be unleashed. But as she looks into Vision's eyes, she notices something genuine and disarming in them. 

“All I’m saying is that you don’t need to defend yourself around me,” he murmurs, his voice gentle, fingers lightly grazing her cheek. “You don't need to explain yourself. Not about this, not about anything.”

His lips find the curve of her neck, placing a chaste kiss there, sending a shiver down her spine, making her sigh softly. 

“You can enjoy that,” he whispers against her skin, voice husky. His lips move upward, caressing her cheek before they meet hers. His hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, until she’s on his lap, straddling him. Her skirt rides up her thighs, allowing him easy access to her dampening underwear.

Wanda shifts nervously. “Vision, we're in public,” she whispers sharply, but doesn’t make any move to get away from him.

His lips twitch into a confident smirk. “I know.” His fingers daringly slide beneath the hem of her skirt, edging towards her panties. “Don't worry,” he assures her, “I just wanted to see if your body tells the truth, even if your words might not.”

Her breath catches as his fingers find the growing wetness there. “See?” he murmurs, his mouth twisting into a boyish grin. “Your body doesn't lie.”

She enjoys it. To be brutally honest, without the haunting thought of your reaction if you were to find out, she concedes she savors their meetings. She’s attracted to him and it’s consuming her every thought. 

Wanda blushes furiously, coupled with the fear of being discovered like this, she’s surrendered to this wicked game. He doesn’t worship her like you do. He doesn’t try to make her feel like nothing is her fault the way you do. Why weren’t you disappointed that she couldn’t get pregnant? Couldn’t contribute to your household like equals? Why didn’t you agonize over the financial repercussions of her relentless quest to start a family with you?

Why won’t you ever, ever hate her?

It's twisted that she even thinks of you as she tilts her hips upwards, urging Vision to touch her just right.

Without warning, Vision plunges his long middle finger inside her, causing Wanda to gasp and grip onto him. The intimate intrusion is brief, and she barely has time to process the sensation when he withdraws, pushing her off his lap and onto the soft grass beside him. He holds his glistening finger up to the light, then brings it to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her. She watches, entranced, as he deliberately savors her taste.

Wanda’s chest rises and falls rapidly, every nerve in her body alive and buzzing. She feels exposed, laid bare both by his actions and by the force of her own arousal. There's a delicious humiliation in it, a thrill of being seen and wanted so openly.

But before she can get a chance to speak, Vision reaches into his pocket, producing an envelope thick with cash and hands it to her. She doesn't need to count it to know it's a significant amount.

“What the fuck is this?” Wanda asks, looking down at the cash in her hands.

He laughs again. He enjoys riling her up. Makes this all the more charged and exciting.

“It's for the painting from your old gallery,” Vision explains calmly. “Going back to that, yes, I want to purchase it. And that’s just 50% of my intended offer.”

Wanda reflects on all the support you've offered her, the financial aid you generously extended without ever demanding explanations. A portion of the money in the envelope—her future commission— could be a start, a way to repay some of the debts she owes you, even if it doesn't cover everything.

Not that you’ve ever asked her to pay you back. You’ve never once hinted at any imbalance in financial obligations in your relationship.

“I shouldn't take this,” she mumbles, yet her fingers clutch the envelope a little tighter.

“I want to,” he insists. “Although, I want a special request.”

Wanda's eyebrow arches in skepticism. “Which is?”

“A handwritten dedication from you, when the painting is delivered,” he replies.

She averts her gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

Vision nods. “Keep the money while you do.”

-

Wanda starts leaving the house early too, going to her lover’s apartment before they go to the university together.

Vision sits comfortably on the plush couch, engrossed in his video game, his fingers swiftly moving over the controller. Wanda enters, shrugging off her light jacket, her simple, functional underwear visible from the thin material of her dress.

“You know, Wanda,” he begins casually, “Have you ever considered just... being in your natural state here?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, helping herself to some tea.

“Your body is a work of art,” he replies, pausing the game now and turning to face her fully. “And as someone who appreciates art...” His gaze travels to her current choice of undergarments and back up to her eyes, leaving his sentence hanging.

“Are you suggesting I walk around here naked?”

He grins cheekily. “The thought did cross my mind.”

Wanda's cheeks flush. “That’s not happening.”

“Alright, maybe not that,” he relents with a mock sigh. “But perhaps wear something more... refined? Exquisite?” His emphasis on 'exquisite' draws a clear line between what she currently wears and what he's suggesting. 

She's always prided herself on being confident, knowing her worth. But Vision’s playful, yet sharp suggestion chips away at her armor just a bit. For a split second, she wonders if this is how he truly sees her. If her choice of underwear, something so personal and intimate, is a reflection of her self-worth in his eyes. It's crazy to let his comment get to her; she's aware of that. But she can't help but think of you, of the intimate times you both share, the mornings she finds herself waking up beside you, and the nights you take off her clothes.

Do you notice? She wonders. Do you think the same?

It's all these tiny moments, insignificant on their own, but together they build a narrative in her mind. A story where maybe you don't desire her as you once did. That thought affects her more than Vision's words. The insecurity, an old nemesis she thought she had left far behind, resurfaces.

Wanda forces a nonchalant smile. “Why don't you mind your own business, and focus on your own wardrobe choices?” she retorts, but there's a lack of her usual sharpness in her tone.

He snickers, going back to his game. She hopes you don't see her the way he does. 

-

She buys a new set of lingerie—for you.

-

Wanda decides she’ll do it by the end of the week. Determined to finalize the sale, she picks up the phone while dinner simmers on the stove. With you still out, Sparky remains her only companion, and a pang of guilt strikes her for having neglected him lately.

She dials the gallery. After a few rings, the familiar voice perkily answers. “Hello?”

“Agatha, it's Wanda,” she says. “About the painting I texted you earlier. My buyer is all in.”

“There's already a bid on it,” Agatha interrupts, “with a deposit ready to go. But if you can secure the painting by tomorrow at the latest, it’s yours to sell.”

“Thanks. I'll make it happen.”

Only after hanging up does she understand that she'll need your help to ensure everything goes smoothly. The next morning, she broaches the subject, and, thankfully, doesn’t have to jump through many hoops to convince you. She loathes bending the truth about the gallery's closing hours, but she's pressed to secure the painting promptly.

Of course, you're there for her again. You even go as far as to offer her lunch, but she has to decline; she genuinely has an appointment with the dean. She reluctantly agrees to dinner, already having said yes to Vision to visit the Museum of Modern Art, where he's also set to give her the remaining 50% for the painting.

“We can have dinner,” Wanda proposes tentatively. “Maybe drive to the city for some steaks and a dive bar after?” It’s tiring to drive back and forth like Manhattan isn’t at least one and a half hours away without traffic, but she wants to spend time with you, and thank you for your effort.

“I'll pick you up at seven,” you say. “It's a date.”

She's excited, but deep down she's aware of the tight schedule. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Vision gets her back to Westview on time.

-

Wanda cancels dinner at the last minute. She's relieved that you're amenable and just texts to ask her what time she’ll be home.

-

When she gets her hands on the painting, it takes her a long time to think of a dedication message. Truthfully, writing heartfelt letters has never been her strong suit; she struggles to articulate her feelings. But as she contemplates her feelings for Vision, she draws a blank.  She considers simply thanking him for engaging her in conversations she hasn't had with anyone in so long, conveniently omitting their other indulgences. At the same time, she doesn’t want to leave a piece of herself behind, not even something as trivial as a personal dedication.

So she settles on a quote:

‘To Vision, the only secret people keep is immortality.’  - W

On a particular plane, it speaks to her. It's a phrase that mirrors the fundamental human longing for significance and a sense of purpose—something she has unknowingly let slip along the way.

-

Surprisingly, Vision appears content with the note. Wanda doesn't bother to inquire about his thoughts on it. He doesn't make a spectacle of his appreciation for the painting either, and it becomes apparent that he's indulging in a fantasy from some porno, where an older woman brings him something before he takes her to bed.

The sex is always intoxicating in its own messy way, now that she’s ready to admit she’s not after perfection whenever she comes to him. She doesn’t go to him because there’s something wrong with you. It might be because something is wrong with her, but there isn’t really any room to psychoanalyze her own mental state when she’s being taken from behind, facing a full length mirror. As pleasure builds, her eyes roll back, she briefly toys with the idea that she might be harboring deeper feelings for him. 

Then, out of the blue, a red flash catches her eye, but with two quick blinks, it vanishes.

“What’s that?” Wanda whispers, momentarily distracted before a moan escapes her lips.

“What?” he mutters distractedly, pulling her hair, when her head starts to droop. 

But before Wanda can form a coherent thought, he adjusts, lifting one of her legs and shifting his angle. With a few deliberate thrusts, she's spiraling into an overwhelming climax. And as pleasure washes over her, any lingering thoughts of deeper feelings for him evaporates along with the haze of lust.

Later, she would brush aside the memory of that brief red flash as she stealthily slipped into your shared home, careful not to disturb Sparky, who slept soundly. With a day off scheduled for tomorrow, she had completely lost track of time, fooling around a couple more times with a college kid.

-

“D-Did I hurt you?”

Right this second, Wanda feels like she'd welcome the ground opening up to take her or a random bullet finding its mark in her heart. Anything, if it would end her anguish. 

She watches your face crumple with guilt and hurt, and she can't believe she's caused you to feel this way when you’re just aching for her. 

Without missing a beat, Wanda draws you into an embrace, feeling your heart race against her chest. “No, you didn’t. I shouldn’t have made you feel that way,” she whispers. The mere thought of you second-guessing your intentions with her shatters her heart.

You lean into her completely, feeling like a child in her arms. “I’ve been missing you so much lately, and I thought... I thought we were on the same page.”

Wanda insists it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. She desires closeness with you, but she hadn't expected it to make her feel so uneasy beneath her skin, especially considering she had been touched by another less than 24 hours ago. She has to remind herself that you aren't aware. But she knows, and it plagues her mind, why you’d want to touch her.

Your reply, soaked in typical selflessness, is, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Your apology, the earnestness in your tone is starting to make her feel dizzy. The fact that you feel this way, that she has led you to question your privilege—something she has always granted you—to touch her, is agonizing.

“Stop saying you're sorry,” Wanda snaps, her words sharper than she intends, fervently hoping that you understand her outburst isn't aimed at you. “You do everything right. It's me. I've missed you too, more than you can possibly imagine.”

When you softly say, “I love you,” it's filled with so much emotion that it brings tears to Wanda's eyes. It takes her too long to respond with an “I love you, too,” because there’s many more she wants to say. And she can’t say it without revealing the one thing that she fears will drive you away. 

She can only hope that you believe her because she means it more than anything.

-

Wanda can't pinpoint exactly when she developed the habit of locking the bathroom door. It likely started around the time Vision would text her, innocently asking about her lectures. Then, one day, she received a short video clip of him pleasuring himself and moaning her name. She promptly deleted the clip, but from that point on, she learned to check her messages at home only when she was about to step into the shower.

-

Natasha visits and something inside Wanda unfurls itself. She becomes hyper-aware of her activities with Vision, how she conducts them and where. Before relocating to New Jersey, you mentioned that Natasha had taken an open-ended break from her job, suggesting she might be ready to leave her old life behind. Still, she’s uneasy when she learns about it too late, and Natasha’s already outside, waiting to be let into the house.

You're still in your office attire, donning a pristine suit that would have captured her attention for the entire evening, if not for the fact that she's on the verge of breaking down at the mere thought of you discovering her affair with Vision.

“Why didn't you tell me she was coming?” she snaps, gesturing at the dinner table set for two and the disorderly state of their living room. Her eyes dart to a stack of her students' reaction papers lying exposed on the coffee table, and the unkempt pillows. To you, it might seem trivial, but to Wanda, every small detail could give away something she'd rather keep private.

“You could've at least warned me,” she continues, her tone reflecting more than just her concerns about dinner and the state of the living room, but you fail to catch it. You try to help, reaching out to straighten the living room, but she's too frazzled. Seeing the frustrated look on your face, she can't help but feel cornered. She hastily scatters the pillows about, her movement nothing short of hysterical. 

Sensing that things might take a worse turn than they should, you make the decision to be the one to step back.

“If it's too much trouble for you, we can just grab dinner elsewhere,” you suggest, struggling not to lose your own patience. 

She can't help but throw you a sharp look, feeling as though your words only made things worse. The mere idea of you and Natasha, alone, maybe sharing stories or opinions about her, feels threatening. But there’s nothing she can do but hope you will veer away from talking about her, that you won’t confide in Natasha how you haven’t had sex in months.

“Fine,” she snaps and quickly retreats up the stairs. “Send my regards to Natasha,” she throws over her shoulder, the guest bedroom door shutting loudly behind her.

She sighs heavily, pressing her back to the door, heart racing. From the window, she sees you walk back to the car, your frustration evident in every step. Natasha looks at you with that questioning glance Wanda knows all too well. She watches as you speak before handing Natasha the car keys.

She gazes up at the ceiling, determined to hold back the tears that are on the verge of spilling. She doesn't want to push you away, but her fear of Natasha, and what might be revealed, leaves her feeling trapped.

-

Out of frustration, she calls Vision, and they meet in his car, about two blocks from their house.

In the cramped confines of the backseat, Vision is quick to slide into her, the condom barely in place before he's thrusting with a fervor.

She peaks once, but not from him being inside her. She's too tense, too tightly wound for that. So Vision, realizing this, drops to his knees to truly bring her over the edge.

-

Later, Wanda lies on her side, every muscle tense, acutely aware of the presence beside her, all the while pretending to be deep in sleep.

“She used to crash at our place almost every week,” you murmur into the stillness.

A hint of irritation passes through Wanda, though she can't really tell why. “What?” she asks, her voice low and weary.

“Natasha,” you specify. “I didn't think to mention it because it was just our norm. She'd drop by unannounced all the time.”

You want to have a conversation about it, to work through this issue. She knows how you’ve been trying to give her space, thinking she hasn’t adjusted yet to life in Westview. You’re always thinking about her. Always putting her needs first above yours.

And Wanda can see how it’s worn you down, how you're starting to doubt your own logical reasoning, and how you're piecing together facts to present your case, hoping for her to be more receptive and listen. She despises the fact that she's putting you through all of this, merely because she's determined to prevent her different worlds from colliding.

She can sense you searching her face, looking for answers, trying to understand the wall she’s erected between you too. It’s so tall now, casting a shadow over both of you. 

“Wands?”

“Baby?” you try again. It seems like it's all you ever do these days. “Please?” 

Wanda resists the urge to turn toward you and pull you into her arms. She knows that if she does, the tears will flow uncontrollably, and she understands that you won't let her keep her troubles to herself. She composes herself, letting out a shuddering sigh.

“We're fine, Y/N. Let's just go to sleep.”

You give into her wishes, because you will always give her what she wants.  She extends her hand, delicately interlocking your fingers with hers. It's the smallest gesture she can manage. She pretends not to hear you, feel you shake, as you cry on your own.

-

She'd planned to watch the movie alone, in the middle of the day. So, when Vision discreetly takes the seat next to her, Wanda stiffens. A few others are scattered in the front rows of the dark theater, chatting softly as they munch on popcorn.

Without turning to face him, she whispers accusingly, “Are you stalking me?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd catch a movie. Pure coincidence.”

“You hate cinemas,” she counters.

He chuckles softly. “Maybe I'm learning to appreciate them.”

​​She’s about to retort when she feels a gentle touch on her hip. Wanda's muscles tense under his soft fingers as they start tracing the curve of her waist, moving slowly downwards, caressing her thigh. Her breath hitches, and she turns sharply to face him.

“What are you doing?”

Vision just smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Thought you might want to spice up the afternoon.”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “I'm not in the mood, Vision. Hands off.”

His laugh is a bit too loud, drawing “shhhs” and glares from the front row. Seeing him unmoved by the stares, Wanda huffs and stands up, making it clear she's moving seats. As she shimmies past him, Vision's hand snakes out, gripping her wrist. “Stay,” he murmurs, eyes serious. “I promise to behave.”

She hesitates, looking at him skeptically. Finally, with a sigh, she slides back into her seat. For the most part, Vision keeps his promise. They sit in silence, engrossed in the movie, but Wanda can't help but notice Vision's restlessness. Twice, he excuses himself, claiming he needs the restroom. She can't help but wonder what he's really up to, but she refrains from asking. Whatever it is, she's not sure she wants to know.

Later, when they step out of the theater, they're greeted by the aftermath of a rainstorm. Puddles dot the pavement, making it tricky for Wanda in her heels. Vision holds out his hand, and she takes it, especially when she almost trips trying to leap over a particularly large puddle. 

For some reason, she suddenly feels like she's being watched. From the corner of her eye, she spots the black SUV, parked in the same spot as when she arrived at the cinema. But before she can give it more thought, Vision pulls her towards a bookstore, quickly diverting her attention. She brushes off the odd sensation, attributing it to anxiety since the theater she picked is quite far from town.

-

Wanda stares, open mouthed and shocked, as Vision shows her his final project for her course.

It's a charcoal drawing on canvas featuring a nude woman, with only her mouth visible, reclining on a bench. Wanda doesn't need a second glance to realize that the woman in the painting is her. From the curve of her jaw to the birthmark on her left hip and down to the fold of her knees, the resemblance is remarkable. 

There's no way she can allow him to submit this.

His audacity to draw her in such an intimate manner without her consent leaves her momentarily speechless. She briefly wonders what other liberties he’s taken without her permission.

“What the hell is this?” Wanda questions in barely contained rage.

Vision smirks, arrogance dripping from every word. “It's you, obviously. Pretty accurate, don't you think?”

She clenches her fists, anger rising. “You had absolutely no right. This is beyond inappropriate. What were you thinking?”

Leaning against the table, he shrugs nonchalantly. “I was thinking about how hot you were and I wanted to immortalize it.”

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively. “This was private, between us. How could you think it's okay to make it public?”

“I thought you liked when I took control,” he says, stepping closer, his voice dripping with insinuation.

Wanda feels like throwing up. “This isn't a game,” she snaps. “You can't just use our personal moments as fodder for your projects!”

“You never seemed to mind before.”

Wanda replies sharply, “There's a difference between us being together in private and you broadcasting it to the world.”

He squares his shoulders, firming up his stance. “Maybe I wanted them to see.”

“To see what exactly?” Wanda yells, but the fear in her voice is unmistakable. 

“How good we are together,” he says. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding, Wanda. Ever thought of that?”

Wanda's mind races, a thousand thoughts crashing into one another. She's always been able to control the narrative, always had the situation in her grip. But now, Vision's defiance, his blatant challenge, terrifies her. The realization that Vision could, and possibly would, spill their secret terrifies her more than she thought possible. For the first time, she's faced with the real possibility of losing everything she holds dear. Of losing you.

“So, what's it going to be, Professor?” Vision challenges, towering over her in a display of intimidation. “Should I submit this, or maybe...” his voice drops to a whisper, “show it to your wife?”

She grits her teeth, trying to gain some semblance of control. “Destroy it. Now.”

Vision grins, leaning in closer until their faces are inches apart. “Make me.”

“Vis—”

Vision's lips crush down on hers in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hand clamps around the back of her neck, holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. It’s fervent, consuming, and fueled by a hunger she hasn't felt from him before. Her brain screams at her to resist, to push him away, to regain control of this spiraling situation. She shoves at his chest, her nails digging in, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, which she denies him.

In her mounting frustration, she raises her hand and slaps him hard across the face. Vision barely flinches, his gaze never leaving hers. His determination only fans the flames of her anger further, but beneath it all simmers an irrefutable want. Without a word, Vision's hands descend to her waist, deftly unbuttoning and pushing down her pants and off her legs. She makes quick work of his belt, discarding them recklessly to the side.

As he inches closer, his breath hot on her ear, Vision murmurs, “Say it, Wanda… say 'I want you to fuck me’.”

She can feel the solid length of him pressing against her, and despite her anger, the way he slowly gyrates his hips makes her weak. She draws a shaky breath, the words stuck in her throat. It’s wrong, and he shouldn’t have this much power on her. 

He moves in, his lips trailing down her neck, as his hands find their way around her waist, pulling her in even closer. “Say it,” he murmurs again.

“I want you to... fuck me,” she finally breathes out, her voice breaking into a whiny plea that she would never have believed she could utter, especially under these circumstances. 

His response is immediate. Before she can fully register what's happening, he has her lifted, her back pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. With a sharp thrust, he's inside her, filling her completely. While Vision usually found his release before she did, this time was different. She notices he's holding back, which confuses her. Why would he? Especially now. Wanda, lost in the sensation of him inside her, is curious but also a little apprehensive. 

She soon realizes why. His fingers find her clit, rubbing it in a rough, almost painful manner that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her. “Come on,” he urges, almost impatiently, his voice strained.

She feels herself spiraling, the coil inside her tightening. His cock angles and adjusts, targeting her sweet spot, making her clench around him. The slickness between them grows, and his fingers work in tandem with his thrusts, pressing, rubbing, coaxing her closer and closer.

“I'm gonna... I'm coming,” she warns, feeling the walls of her pussy fluttering.

And then she feels it—the unmistakable warmth, the pulsing. Her eyes widen in realization as Vision buries himself deeper, releasing inside her. 

“No!” Wanda screams silently, the sounds failing to escape her throat as the knowledge that he's come unprotected pushes her further into her own climax. Her instinct is to flee, to pull away from him, but Vision's grip is ironclad. He feels her panic and responds with more pressure on her clit, manipulating the nub with determined fingers. Each stroke sends her further into ecstasy, locking her in place as his other arm wraps around her waist, preventing any escape.

“Stay,” he murmurs into her ear, his voice filled with a possessiveness that she's never heard before. As he continues to spurt inside her, their hips still weakly grinding against one another, the reality of the situation dawns on her. He didn't use protection. He could—he could get her—

Terror claws at Wanda's insides. Was this all premeditated? Had he planned to trap her like this? She struggles to pull away, but Vision holds her even tighter, keeping her pressed against him as the last of his release fills her. He languidly rests his forehead against Wanda's shoulder, taking a moment to revel in the afterglow. When he finally dares to look at her, he expects to see anger or fury or maybe even forgiveness. Instead, he's met with wide, bloodshot eyes swimming with tears that violently spill over, tracing the contours of her cheeks.

His smugness dissipates and his brow furrows in confusion. “Wanda?”

She chokes on her tears, desperately trying to speak. “Did you—did you do this on purpose?” Using every ounce of strength she can summon, she pushes him away, stumbling slightly as her legs threaten to give out. Hastily, she starts grabbing her clothes.

Vision, looking lost for once, reaches out, but she recoils away from his touch.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Wanda, please. Let's talk about this.”

As Wanda attempts to regain her balance, she can feel the telltale wetness slide down her inner thighs. The physical evidence of their tryst, the proof of Vision's seed making its way out of her, sends a sharp pang of revulsion through her. Her hand moves instinctively, trying to wipe away the residue, a feeble attempt to erase the aftermath—or perhaps the entirety of their history. Her vision blurs as tears continue to stream down her face, her breathing jagged. Vision, looking both remorseful and lost, reaches out in an attempt to console her, but she flinches at the barest contact of his fingertips.

“Please, at least let me drive you to—”

“To where?” she spits out, her voice mocking. “Home? To my...? I can't—not now.”

Vision's eyes widen, and suddenly he looks much younger.

“Wanda,” he starts, voice shaky and eyes beginning to tear up, “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't think… I-It’ll never happen again.”

But the pitiable sight of him, looking scared and unsure, only adds fuel to the fire. “You think a simple 'sorry' is enough?”

The door is her escape, and she's quick to reach it. As she’s about to leave, he whimpers, almost begging, “Please don't go. I... I'm sorry.”

But she's done. With one final, withering glance, she exits, leaving the door to swing shut behind her. 

-

While Wanda waits for her period to come, she can't focus on anything else. She feels disoriented during the day, and it keeps her awake at night. 

In her world, everything's spiraling into a fragmented mess, like a vintage vinyl record that's been smashed to bits. 

She tosses out reading assignments like candy at a twisted parade, tells the kids to scribble down essays. For them, it's almost like a holiday. For Wanda, it's a desperate lifeline. By the window, she stands. Watching. Waiting. But not really seeing anything. Vision's eyes, burning into her, but she never meets his gaze. She hasn't been responding to his texts or calls, discarding them immediately without even opening them. The classroom exit strategy is always the same: blend in with the herd, avoid the predator. She doesn't give him even the slightest opportunity to get her alone.

Home should be her fortress. Instead, it's like quicksand. Sparky, always eager for her attention, brings toys to her feet, his tail wagging in hopeful anticipation. But her patience is thin, and she finds herself shooing him outside, much to the dog's confusion. She's been bringing home takeout repeatedly, and the repetition isn't lost on you. While you never openly complain, she notices when you start to take the reins, cooking dinner, a quiet acknowledgment of her current state.

She waits and waits—a ghost haunting a lover, a home, a school, a town, waiting for salvation.

-

She’s more than a week late for her period when she (terrifyingly) decides to buy a pregnancy test kit. Wanda clutches her coat tighter around herself, hesitating for a moment before pushing the door open. Inside, she avoids making eye contact, moving purposefully towards the aisle she's dreading. As her fingers wrap around a pregnancy test kit, her heart hammers in her chest. With the box safely tucked inside her bag, she hurries back home, sneaking glances over her shoulder, feeling as though the world knows her secret.

When she arrives home, she pretends as if she had simply stopped by the grocery store. She musters a smile as she begins to prepare dinner, maintaining a light and cheerful conversation with you. You savor her food as if it were your last meal, showering her with compliments like a discerning food critic, which brings a slight chuckle from Wanda. You peck her lips when you’re finished, thanking her for it. For a while, it seems like everything is back to normal, and that nothing will shatter the illusion that she’s still living her happily-ever-after with you.

She waits, counting the minutes, ensuring you're deep in sleep before she tiptoes into the bathroom. She reads the instructions multiple times, her eyes scanning over each word as if hoping they'd change. It's as though she hasn’t been through this ritual numerous times before, back when her deepest desire was to bear your child. The irony isn't lost on her: in just a few months, she's transitioned from yearning for a baby to fervently hoping she isn't pregnant.

Finally gathering enough courage, she rips the packaging. Just get it over with, Wanda muses. The minutes that follow feel like hours. The silence is suffocating, the potential consequences bearing down on her. She jumps at the slightest noise, every creak of the floorboards or rustle of sheets convincing her that you've woken up.

The alarm on her phone finally goes off, signaling that it's time. With bated breath, she looks down at the test, her world teetering on the brink of change.

-

She’s hidden the pregnancy test deep in the trash bin, concealed under tissues and other refuse. It’s the middle of the night, and she ensured it is further out of sight by taking the trash outside.

As the initial relief floods through her, it is swiftly replaced by a profound sense of shame. She sits curled up on the couch, hugging her knees, desperately wishing to escape from herself and her crimes. She realizes, with a piercing clarity, that she can't compartmentalize or keep secrets when it comes to you, because you're not just a part of her life—you are her life. The mere thought of you finding out fills her with a terror so profound, she's left gasping for breath. She'd rather face any consequence, even death, than watch the love fade from your eyes, replaced by hurt, anger, and betrayal.

She loves you, but Wanda doesn’t—she doesn’t know what to do, how to move forward. 

But in the midst of her life falling apart, an unexpected sentiment finds its way to the forefront: hope. 

A fragile, quivering kind of hope. Wanda's lips twitch, trembling as they pull into a weak smile. Maybe the universe is giving her a second chance. Maybe her not being pregnant is a sign, a way out. It's as if fate is holding out a lifeline, imploring her to take it and mend the fractures in her life. With renewed determination, she silently promises herself that she'll devote every bit of her being to you. She knows she can't change the past, but she believes, fervently, in the possibility of a future where she remains true, where she will never stray again.

Still, the weight of her deeds anchors her to the couch, each sob a violent reminder that she's the villain in her own story. And that’s how you find her, in the dark living room, crying and blaming a nonexistent movie for being in such a mess.

“Wanda?”

She looks up and every cell in her body threatens to crumble. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing away the tears.

“Have you been crying?”

“Just a movie,” she lies still, “You know how emotional they make me.”

You smile, your eyes full of that nurturing love. “My big crybaby.” Wanda can't believe a pregnancy scare was what it took to finally wake her up.

Looking into your eyes, a surge of need overtakes her. She longs to claim you, to solidify her stake, and leave no doubt in your mind about where her heart truly lies. She wants to show you just how much she loves you, to make up for all the times she has strayed. 

She doesn't hesitate. Before she fully processes her actions, she's on top of you, her weight pinning you down, her eyes blazing with an intensity that threatens to consume. “Take off your shorts,” her voice trembles. Your obedient response sends a thrill through her, but she's barely registered the progress you've made before she's swiping a teasing finger, tasting the essence that's uniquely yours. She watches, entranced, as a shiver runs through you, your voice shaky with desire. 

“Patience, baby.” 

She barely shakes her head, lips parted. “Don't have any.”

And then she's tasting you, each slow, deliberate stroke of her tongue designed to drive both of you mad. Your body responds fervently, and she can sense your need building, mirroring her own desperate longing. “Please, Wanda, more…” Your whisper is a plea she can't resist. Her lips part to take in more of you, savoring the intoxicating flavor that she had missed so much. 

“I've missed you so much, Y/N,” she says, deliriously lost in your pleasure. “I've missed making you feel good. Missed feeling this way with you…” She doesn't quite realize the hints she's dropping, but she doesn't care. This moment is real, and she wants it to be as honest as it can be.

Lifting your legs, Wanda applies gentle pressure, pushing them back until they're almost touching the couch cushions on either side of your head. The sight of you, so openly displayed for Wanda, sends a rush of heat and desire through her core. She can feel the power she has, not just from the position but from the trust placed in her to have you in such a vulnerable state. It feels so good, being this close to you. How could she have ever desired anything else when she had this all along?

Wanda pauses for a moment, mouth watering, her eyes hungrily tracing the sight before her. She senses a slight shift, seeing your eyes flit away, perhaps overwhelmed. But Wanda can't allow that retreat. Gently cradling your face, she guides those eyes she loves back, sealing their return home to her with a tender, grounding kiss.

“I love you,” she breathes against your lips.

You smile up at her. “I love you. More than you could ever know.”

Wanda shuts her eyes, letting your reassurance wash over her. Nothing lasts forever, but perhaps this could be an exception.

[dgnrtshunch]

Lu Guang is NOT a hypocrite

ever since the season 2 finale came out people have been calling Lu Guang hypocritical for breaking his own rules he'd set of not changing the past. And post season two? It ABSOLUTELY 100% makes sense to look at it that way. But now, with the addition of the Bridon/Yingdu chapter and the context it brings, I'm not so sure anymore

In Bridon the opening scene is Lu Guang watching Cheng Xiaoshi die. There's a bit to observe from this scene. Firstly, I have the idea that Lu Guang didn't have any of these rules in the first timeline. In fact, the opening scene of Bridon shows the exact opposite, as Vein states his reason for attacking them is because they changed the past. I imagine that in the first timeline, they probably both had a good idea that they shouldn't change much because of the butterfly effect, but there were no strict rules on making changes in general. Maybe Cheng Xiaoshi tried to save someone from dying in the past once, but it didn't work, and that's why Lu Guang now has the idea that a dead person cannot be saved through time travel. This gives an idea of why Lu Guang might now have strict rules on not changing the past and not saving people from death; he knows that if they change the past, Vein might come after them, and he knows that death is unchangeable and doesn't want to see Cheng Xiaoshi go through watching someone he hoped he could save die.

But that can still be hypocritical, if he knows that death is unchangeable, then why is he actively trying to save Cheng Xiaoshi?

Let's think back to the opening scene again, then. Cheng Xiaoshi is dead, Qiao Ling is dead, and Lu Guang himself has a stomach wound he's actively bleeding out of and is having trouble staying upright. It doesn't take an expert to see that in this case, unless Lu Guang wanted to die as well, diving back is his best option. Something that stands out to me is this Haolin quote (source), where he states that Lu Guang didn't initially want to change the past.

This basically confirms going back was more of a spur of the moment thing, again, likely because he didn't have a choice. I assume Lu Guang probably went just a little bit slightly insane by the end of Bridon (he knowingly sent a man to his death and all. lol) and considering the constant onslaught of PTSD-induced nightmares, he probably decided along the way that he had to save Cheng Xiaoshi no matter what.

So is him telling Cheng Xiaoshi not to try and save people hypocritical, then? One last point.

Shao Yuanyuan is doing the exact same thing to try and save Cheng Weimin that Lu Guang is doing trying to save Cheng Xiaoshi. In the scene where Shao Yuanyuan and Cheng Xiaoshi speak, she tells him not to investigate any further and to stay out of it, because otherwise, her attempt to save Cheng Weimin might get disrupted. She has a plan to follow, and deviations from that plan could mean that saving Cheng Weimin would become less and less likely a possibility. I believe Lu Guang is in a similar position. Maybe not as calculated as Shao Yuanyuan because he's been at it for less time and knows less generally, but I believe the whole reason he tells Cheng Xiaoshi not to stray from his instructions and not to change anything is because he believes he needs to be in control in order for his attempt at saving Cheng Xiaoshi to work out. Let's say that in the first timeline they didn't have their signature three rules at all. Lu Guang came up with them in the second timeline after he'd committed to saving Cheng Xiaoshi, because he knew he couldn't repeat the same mistakes as the first timeline and had a plan he wanted to follow. This could also explain how furious Lu Guang was in episode 9 when he found out Cheng Xiaoshi dove without him, not only cause he was worried about him, but also because it was possible that the more Cheng Xiaoshi deviated from Lu Guang's script, the less likely it'd be that he could actually save him. That's why he yells at him about the timeline spinning out of control.

that's my 2 cents, let me know your thoughts or any arguments for/against this theory🫶happy to discuss

[tempestvista]

I'm basically treating these freaks like barely-tethered-to-canon characters. At least in the case of 007n7, Chance and Guest 1337. I've known of and preferred other characterizations of 1x1x1x1 prior to Forsaken (no shade/not intended to be condescending, just info). Also note my interpretation of canon deviates a lot (to my knowledge).

Anywho, onwards!

007n7 centered headcanons + Some 1x1x1x1 (x 007n7.. hehfhr)

- Transmasculine/Agender. He finds any thought or idea of being seen as a woman deeply unpleasant.. Fortunately passes really well though, in my canon most people (aside from his closer friends / Chance and Guest 1337) do not even know due to how private he is

- - Also adding on/Obvious but I like the idea of Guest 1337 and Chance being the most amiable towards him. Chance because they have a history of being unreliable/flippant at times / truly struggling with a gambling addiction (recovered but still something they're heavily associated w/ by other survivors) and Guest 1337 because he's quite self-sacrificial and cares a great deal for anyone and has the ability to look past 007n7's past (doubly so because of his own demons and guilt haunting him) without excusing him/coddling him. Chance isn't a bad friend here to clarify; They just often used sleep as an escape and previously hid in their apartment or other locations when out of funds in their former life (not doublefedora related here.(not that theres anything wrong w that though lol)).

- Heavily projecting here but 007n7 is Jewish and is fluent in Hebrew, although again, most don't even know this about him. They might hear a slip of a curse or hostile wish if he thinks he's by himself and does smthn . Like stub his toe or whatever. (Or in rounds and gets shocked by a generator, trips, what have you..). C00lkidd has picked up some and speaks broken bits, but due to their current situation (+being separated from his dad for extended periods and not caring or remember to practice) he has forgotten most of it. Knows basic greetings, well wishes, etc.. He picked up on like two cursewords lol

- - It's more of a cultural/ethnic background for him, he's never been able to connect to most religions. I think he'd be a member reform synagogue. He probably stopped going after he got c00lkidd since his hands were full + attendance that progressively got more sporadic.

- A bit random but he likes spiders. Very much against flies / most insects and appreciates that the spiders keep then away. Might get mocked by his 2 bros for having a cobweb in a corner that he's just chill with. I doubt he could perform the upkeep to keep any pets, though. He likes dogs and cats equally, I'd say.

- Actually not a big fan of pizza due to getting sick of eating the same thing no matter what but unfortunately most options r limited.. I like to headcanon that the Spectre does restock their personal fridges at times though and he cooks for himself whenever he can

- - Two notes / piggybacking off that: Survivors have their own separate areas. There is the main/common building, and some do sleep there, but there aren't many rooms upstairs and it lacks privacy + more exposure to noise. Most of them have smaller buildings not too far from the main one, with 007n7's being the furthest possible.

And 2: Enjoys cooking and doing other small tasks because it makes him feel in control of his life. Similar things like cleaning are a comfort to him, shockingly. Most people assume he's a slop and when he's depressed.. it can get like that, however when you have an omnipresent entity tormenting you, you develop interesting/different coping mechanisms.

- Has vague medical knowledge from a previous mild fixation on medicine previously that would go away and come back since his freshman year. (I'm not projecting I swear)

- Actually working on healing himself as a person lol. I do enjoy the concept of him being pathetic and afraid (and I lean into it often) but I also like the idea of him developing some snark. Possibly a reason for 1x1x1x1 to develop interest in him, he jabs at 1x1x1x1 before getting killed /, running away or whatever lol.. he's still a bit of coward who VERY much feels pain, though, and does more running and fixing things in the shadows than direct confrontation. Slippery guy

- Feels guilt for what he did and the isolation he faces doesn't help. But he slowly tortures himself less and less, especially as a means to gain control over his life + a desire to stop constantly dissociating and intentionally triggering himself because he "believes he deserves it"

- Physical headcanons is that he's 5"8 and a bit stocky / broad guy. Sorta muscular dad bod? Hard 2 explain.. used to be insecure, still sometimes is. He has a sleeper build underneath lol

- A little obsessive. Fixates on certain details, sometimes people. Isn't weird about it but he has formed a heavy attachment to his two friends (and subsequently/later on 1x1x1x1.. I imagine 1x is as flattered by this as he is shocked/intrigued)

- Again projecting but big on tea. He's not a connoisseur by any means, however he knows what he likes and what he doesn't. Like some of the big staples (especially for health and herbal medicine reasons, has some books on that, too) such as green tea, lemon (+honey) ginger, chamomile, etc.

- Likes flowers to an extent. Has minor pollen allergies, though. For this reason he tends to favor Fall over Spring, though he truly loves Spring the most. Being out in the sun is a must for him after all the years of being a shut-in and depression. He enjoyed taking c00lkidd out whenever possible, though he stopped hiking (frequently did so before) since c00lkidd wasn't a big fan unless there was more stimulation (i.e racing, tag, constant chatting, etc.)

- His favorite kind of weather is a mildly sunny day with a lot of clouds and a deep blue sky. He doesn't enjoy excess heat or sunlight, though. Burns semi-easily after a bit as his skin never took to tanning, especially after, again, not going outside for periods of time.

- Also fond of those grey-sky days where it might rain some, might not. Slight breeze.

- If he had to pick a favorite natural disaster he would probably gravitate towards whirlpools and large bouts of lightning. Maybe dust devils.

- He likes Silent Hill and most old-style horror games. Gets nostalgic over the old Playstation intro. Enjoys terraria.

- He likes the smell of Wisteria oil if we're talking about flowers still. Fond of dandelions, especially since he carried over the little tradition with c00lkidd of wishing on them and blowing them (also tosses pennies into fountains).

- Likes the smell of smoke, campfires, and sometimes burnt sage. Most incense tends to be too strong for him, sadly.

- If you ask him for his sexuality he'll just say queer or something along those lines since it's too much thought for him. Doesn't have much reason to care beyond that, his preferences are fluid but more masculine and/or androgynous leaning.

1x1x1x1 headcanons (a bit less developed since I'm primarily ill over 007)

- Probably 6"8-6"10. Though imagine it's hard for majority of people to gauge his height beyond "holy shit that tall person is coming at me at Mach 40 with a sword"

- ^ Fast runner, can be silent if he wants to. Yet he can't resist being loud because he likes terrorizing others and being known.

-  Gloats a little. Not entirely undeserved considering his strength but it can be hard for most to tolerate. I think 007n7 may challenge him on some things, yet flatter/agree on others. He does admire him to an extent, after all, especially with his own insecurities and also. Not Being Able To Generally Fight Back against killers 99% of the time

- Struggles with emotional regulation, picks up some skills throughout his time alive but does deal with intense loneliness that is masked as "anger."

- Very obsessive. Not in a gross way, but due to intense loneliness and trauma of some variation, he does not react well to being ignored or being left behind (or the perceived thought of it). Probably also why he is more willing to connect with 007n7 after developing some interest and lowering some walls. Rare is it that killers develop close bonds as they all sorta have their own issues and reside in their own areas.

- The closest "friends" he has would be John Doe and Azure (somewhat). Don't ask me why Azure specifically, ive yet to make a good reason for it aside from vague shared betrayal trauma </3 /lh j. Takes a fondness for c00lkidd in specific due to the small dudes naivety, but doesn't know how to react around kids, so he might appear standoffish.

- He isn't incompetent as far as domestic upkeep goes, but he's not too interested in doing much. Prefers to wander outside and explore, likes forests and the cover they provide.

- ok just hear me out. But if he was a more healthy and unburdened individual, he'd have a generous primadonna/self-assured personality. Think Lottie from the princess and the frog is she was a giant dude instead LMFAOO.. Ik this is irrelevant but I would like to explore a what-if idea someday and that's. Part of it. Lalalala I am cringe and free. I know this is very ooc but Hey.

- Gorgeous black hair.. how does he do it, we may never know.

- He doesn't care much about fashion. He enjoys some styles over others, but his main motive is what is:

1. Easy to move/run in, especially for extended periods.

2. Durable/Not cheaply made.

3. At minimum somewhat flattering on him. He doesn't wear much shirts or arm accessories, prefers range of motion + having his torso exposed.

- If he did wear accessories, he'd gravitate towards specific piercings. Absolutely would go for ear piercings, and the ornate / jeweled ones, too.

- Maybe rings.

- If they did more damage, I feel like he'd enjoy brass knuckles. (Tbf, I think he could do significant harm regardless of weapon type, it just comes down to preference and speed)

- He likes some of the poorly made horror tales that you'd tell to scare your friends at a sleepover. Dude is a fan of Bloody Mary. /pos

- He wouldn't admit it immediately, but he likes libraries, castles and Gothic churches. Very fond of previous Robloxia history, even if he sees unbecoming things said about him. Sometimes it upsets him, sometimes it amuses him. But most of the time he's annoyed (worst case: enraged) over how many details people got WRONG. If you're going to speak of his harrowing acts, at least get it right.

- In spite of this, rarely will he destroy a book. It's just wrong to him. And though he may indulge in the occasional fit of breaking things to cent frustration, something like that is too childish, even for him.

- Once in a rare moment, he will feel a deep sense of mourning and longing for what could've been. In the dead of night, where it's so dark that even his own hands and body are noticeably obscured from his vision, he grieves for a life he cannot even properly envision having. A world where he wasn't created. A world where he wasn't destined to be at odds with Shedletsky, wasn't forced to be a foil for him. A world where he could express emotions as strongly as he did hate and vengeance. Where maybe instead of seeking a false justice that's been beaten into the ground ten thousand and ten thousand more times over, he'd have advocated for something righteous. He doesn't talk or do much for a while after these moments, and does his best to forget they ever occur at all.

What's most hilarious is I'm not even big into the game. I just love the characters + roblox characters as a whole. I tried playing but most servers I joined were pretty toxic </333 and yet.. I still am fixated... I'm a fake fan /j

[lxvvie]

whenever i think of lil domestic life blurbs the first thing i think is "hmm i wonder what lxvvie would write about this" LOL (can u tell i love u and ur writing!! <3)

for instance: imagine the cod characters trying desperately for you to finally claim one of their shirts as ur own sleep shirt. but like, you've worn the same thrifted oversized shirt every night since college, and tbh you really don't want to change up your routine now, and yeah, a strangers random shirt is actually more comfortable than yours, thank you very much

cue chaos. also idk who this would fit but i feel like one of them would be like don't wanna wear my shirt to sleep? fine and then proceed to replace every article of clothing in your closet, except for that sleep shirt, with one of their own. what!!! technically they listened to you!!!

I can see it going a lil' something like this (it might deviate some from your ask so forgive me! 😭):

Price would be a bit subtler than the rest. A comment or suggestion is given here or there because if it's comfort you're looking for, his shirts are where it's at.

Gaz is the one who outright tells you that he wants you in his shirt. Like... right now.

Soap leaves his shirts lying around with the express purpose of you putting them on. If you were to ask him to grab a shirt for you from the laundry room, best believe he will come back with his shirt for you to wear.

Ghost tells you that he can't sleep at night because your shirt feels "rough against his skin" 🙄. You call bullshit because his shirts have the same exact texture, and he calls bullshit to your bullshit because they absolutely do not. You can't help but wonder if there's some credibility to his words, though, because when you sleep in his shirt one night, he's out like a light.

Keller is the one who's like, "Got something for ya, Boss," and he tosses you his shirt and you're confused. "Alex, this is yours," and he shrugs and is all, "Not for long, I hope."

Alejandro wouldn't necessarily feel some kind of way about you wearing the shirt but if, for instance, it was from an ex? He'll envision burning it. In the meantime in-between time, wear his shirt.

Rudy tells you that he loves it when you wear his shirts because it feels good knowing a piece of him is still with you when he's away and that's all the more reason for you to wear them.

Horangi just wants his scent on you because he's claiming what's his.

König thinks it's absolutely adorable the way his shirts fit like freaking blankets on you. Then there was that one time you put on a shirt that he uses when he's away on assignment...

Graves doesn't really care... unless he's away. When he's home, he'd rather you sleep naked. For reasons. Reasons that involve horizontal dancing.

Keegan would just silently hand you his shirt, unwavering stare and all.

Roach's approach is similar to Rudy but he'd oh-so-politely ask, "Please...?"

[jellyfitzjelly]

May I request a NSFW prompt where non-tiefling female reader (crush) went to check on Zevlor in a rut but didn't know what's wrong. She offered to help from now on & confessed her feelings because she didn't want him to think it's out of pity?

I deviated a bit from the prompt, I hope that's okay! I ended writing about 3.8k of words about Zevlor in rut... I think I might unwell about this lol. Hoping you'll enjoy, anon!

From desire sprang delight | 3.8k words | NSFW | AO3

You feel excited as you make your way to the barracks to see Zevlor. You’ve been in love with him ever since you laid eyes on him at the Grove, though you’ve never admitted your feelings to him. You are too afraid to ruin the friendship you have built with him. You two have kept in touch after defeating the Elder Brain. You helped the old Hellrider settle into a new life in Baldur’s Gate. You know there will never be anything more between you two, but as long as he is happy, you are happy too. You greet him on the training grounds, but you immediately notice something is off. Zevlor looks uncomfortable, jittery and smelling of strong cologne and sweat. You wonder if he is sick, but he assures you he is fine. You start your biweekly sparring session. The old Hellrider is clearly distracted, so much so that for once you manage to get the upper hand for a short time before Zevlor inevitably gains his advantage back. Suddenly, the air thickens and his eyes seem to burn brighter as he pins you to the ground. You are overwhelmed with the scent of his sweat, but it surprisingly isn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it seems to make heat pool in your belly. Your heart starts to pound as you gaze at the ex-Commander baring his teeth. He looks so…feral like this. Zevlor seems to snap out of his trance-like state and sharply pushes himself away from you like he’s been burned. You blink as you watch him get up, panting.

“Are you alright?” you ask with concern.

“Yes, yes,” he answers huskily. “I’m just more tired than I expected. I think we should stop there.”

You nod, a bit perplexed by what happened. You got into the changing rooms with him.

“You can go first, take your time,” the tiefling tells you. “I have some things to sort out before I can wash.”

He leaves you to strip. You undress and go inside the water room to quickly wash so you can help him with whatever chore he has. You come out and dress into the spare clothes you have brought, but you realize your dirty shirt is nowhere to be found. You look everywhere, puzzled, but you still can’t find it. You wonder if a servant took it for whatever reason. You decide to ask one of them in the nearby kitchen. On your way you pass by the storage room. You are stopped dead in your tracks by a noise coming from the room. You try to listen, and you hear something that sounds like a groan. You press your ear against the door and hear another groan. You wonder what’s happening. You quietly open the door a bit to take a peek and you are greeted by a shocking scene: Zevlor has his nose buried in the underarm of your dirty shirt, his pants down mid-thighs, as he fucks his fist. You stare, transfixed, at Zevlor’s cock. It’s large and ridged, the head wet with precum. The Hellrider moans, eyes closed, as he fucks his hand with desperation. You notice an odd swelling at the base of his sex, one that looks sensitive: when the tiefling squeezes it he lets out a loud moan he tries to swallow back. You look on as heat pools into your belly until it becomes unbearable. You slip a hand in your pants, finding your engorged clit. You gently give it circling strokes as you watch Zevlor snaps his hips into his fist.

“T–Tav!” he growls, his pace growing even more urgent.

It lights a fire inside you. You match the tiefling’s pace as you rub yourself, bucking your hips and wishing so badly it was your cunt Zevlor was fucking. You bite your lips as come silently, your clit pulsing under your touch as you watch Zevlor spills a seemingly endless stream of semen. His thighs are shaking with the strength of his orgasm. When hellfire eyes turn to look at you, you panic. You turn around and run back to the changing rooms with your heart thundering. Not long after, Zevlor arrives. His eyes widen when he sees you, and he gives a guilty look to your shirt which he’s been holding.

“Ah, you’re already out,” he says awkwardly.

He smells strongly of sweat, but somehow that just stirs your arousal again. Zevlor shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

“I wanted to have your shirt washed, but I thought better of it,” he explains.

“Oh, I see,” you say.

A heavy silence settles between you.

“I should go home, I do not feel well,” Zevlor eventually says. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel our usual drinks and dinner.”

“Of course,” you answer. “You shouldn’t work if you are ill-taken. I’ll walk you back to–”

“No need!” he hurriedly interrupts you.

You blink, a bit hurt but also puzzled.

“I am sure you have plenty of things to do. Don’t worry about me,” the Hellrider assures you.

You smile and nod. You leave him, feeling conflicted. He has lit a fire of lust inside you, but you are also deeply concerned. Has he seen you? Have you destroyed your friendship? The prospect is terrifying to you. Yet you now know he desires you. What should you do? And what on earth is going on with Zevlor? Was he sick? Or just pent-up? It’s so unlike him to give in to his needs like this in the middle of the day… No, something’s wrong with him. He needs your help. You know how reluctant he is about asking for help. You need to find out what’s going on.

You realize you virtually know nothing about tiefling anatomy. You need to read up on it and you know exactly who to turn to: Rolan. If you are completely honest with yourself, you are also curious. You keep thinking about that odd swelling on Zevlor’s sex and you can’t help but wonder if this is normal for tieflings. You go to Ramazith’s Tower and ask Rolan for anatomy books on tieflings. He gives you the books you request with a look that makes you blush.

“May I ask why you are suddenly so interested in my kind’s bodies?”

“Oh, just…curiosity,” you half-lie, your cheeks burning.

“Nothing to do with Zevlor, I suppose?” Rolan smirks with a knowing smile.

You splutter, deeply embarrassed but also feeling like the young man knows something you don’t.

“He– He looks sick, I want to help him,” you finally manage to get out.

“Sure,” he snorts and leaves you to your reading.

You are deeply confused. You can hear Cal and Lia giggling somewhere in the tower, having probably heard your conversation. You decide to study the books rather than dwell on why you feel like the butt of the joke. Fortunately, you soon find out why you feel like it.

Zevlor is in rut.

Tiefling reproduction is different from humans’. At least once a year  they go through a period of intense fertility coupled with a strong sex drive. Males develop a ‘knot’ that ensure semen is not spilled out. If they are not mated, or do not act on their needs, they can become physically ill. Their sweat smells stronger during this period to signal their fertility to other tieflings. You suddenly understands why Zevlor smelled so strongly earlier. Your mind wanders then to him with his nose buried in the damp underarm of your dirty shirt as he jacked off. Does your sweat arouse him? It makes you shiver with arousal to think about it. Your heart also breaks: Zevlor is going through this plight all alone! You need to help him. You need to show him how bad you want his knot inside you. You want the Hellrider to claim you, to fill you. But…would he accept? Just because he wants your body doesn’t mean he wants you. Maybe…Maybe it’s just the rut talking. You shake your head. You mustn’t reason like this, you’ll only intimidate yourself out of seeing Zevlor. You need to go now and tell him your feelings. He needs help, whether he likes it or not! But first, you should prepare…

*

For probably the hundredth time today, Zevlor swears in Infernal as he spills once again into the waiting basin. He sags in the armchair he is sitting in, panting and cursing himself for his foolishness. He hasn’t had a rut in a few years with the amount of stress he had been under: the Descent, the travel to Baldur’s Gate, the Absolute, trying to settle in… He’s thankful Tav still wanted to talk to him after his terrible moment of weakness. She helped him find peace and build a new life.

Zevlor has been in love with her ever since their meeting at the Grove. A simple look from those enchanting eyes and he was smitten. He knows it would never be. Such an incredible young woman like her wouldn’t spare a second glance to an old man like him. Zevlor settled on having her friendship and he was happy with that. The Hellrider was content with what he had….until his rut came. After such a long time without it, his rut has come back with a vengeance. He hasn’t had such a strong rut since his youth. Work has been a torture this past week. Zevlor was a fool to think he could control himself in presence of Tav, he should have cancelled altogether their sparring session.  The aggression only heightened his arousal, and to have her under him, at his mercy… Watching gods, he almost lost control and kissed her at that point. Her intoxicating smell  was driving him up the wall. He ended up stealing her shirt when she went to bath to release some tension. He imagined fucking her, pushing his knot into her tight sex and filling her up. He felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed to do this at work, with Tav’s sweat-drenched shirt no less, but he couldn’t help himself. The worst in all this is that it backfired on him. Zevlor hopes the young woman will never know what he was doing with her shirt. Now he is home with only his hand to satisfy himself. It feels like some kind of twisted torture. No amount of release is enough to sate him. Zevlor knows having a partner would make things so much easier, but even the idea of going to the brothel displeases him. He cannot find it in himself to fuck someone while thinking of Tav.

A knock on the door echoes. The Hellrider groans, willing whoever this is to go away. There is another, more insistent knock on the door. Zevlor curses in Infernal under his breath, wondering who has decided to show up when he is so wrecked.

“Zevlor, can you hear me? Are you ok?” he hears Tav’s voice behind the door.

The Hellrider curses again. What is she doing here?! The gods are truly out to get him, it seems. There is a more urgent knock on the door and Zevlor finally gets up. He’s thankful he has gone soft again. He hurriedly throws on a shirt and some pants before striding to the door. He winces as he gets a whiff of his own sweat. He reeks. He opens the door and is greeted by the enchanting view of Tav in a summer dress. She looks beautiful like this with her hair up. He wants nothing more than to have her.

“Are you alright?” she asks with concern.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry,” he lies. “It is simply a minor cold. I’ll be back on my feet in a few days. You shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

He prays to the gods she cannot smell the heavy scent of sex stuffing his place right now.

“But I can’t catch what you have,” she tells him like it’s obviousness itself.

Zevlor pales.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in rut, Zevlor. You’re in pain and you need a mate.”

By the gods, no. It cannot be.

“You know?” he squeaks, panic overwhelming him.

“I saw you earlier. With my shirt,” she says, blushing bright red.

Zevlor is torn between kissing her and throwing himself down the stairs.

“I want to help you, Zevlor,” she continues.

“Out of the question,” he snaps.

He won’t have her pity. He can withstand anger or disgust, but not pity.

“You’re suffering! Let me help you! I can take it!”

“I said no!”

He tries to close the door, but she jams her foot against it. Damn woman. She never knows when to back down!

“Zevlor, I am not leaving,” she tells him sternly.

“I don’t want you,” the Hellrider lies.

“Oh yes, you do! And…And I want you too.”

Zevlor’s eyes widen at that.

“Look, I– I get it. You’re just attracted to me. I am fine with that. It’s alright if you don’t return my feelings, but I won’t let you say I am doing this out of pity!”

“Your feelings?” he blinks.

He gets a whiff of her perfume and he starts hardening immediately. Fortunately the young woman keeps her eyes on his face.

“I– I love you, Zevlor,” she stammers, getting beet red.

The old Hellrider finds her adorable like this. His desire surges forward like a tidal wave and he finds himself gripping her by the shoulders  claws digging into flesh. She looks at him with her wide doe eyes, and the tiefling has to fight to keep himself from kissing her.

“I need you, Zevlor,” she pleads, and Zevlor breaks.

He crushes her against him as he brings her into a searing kiss, letting her feel his hardness. She gasps into the kiss, grinding back against him. The ex-Commander drags her inside and closes the door. She’s back at his mouth immediately, hungry. He wraps his tail possessively around her thigh, brushing the tip against her crotch and making a sound in his throat when he discovers she doesn’t wear anything under her dress.

“You little tart,” Zevlor growls against her lips and immediately regrets it.

How can he disrespect her like this? His rut has made him lose his mind! Yet the young woman moans, rubbing herself on his tail. He can feel just how wet she is for him, and he loses all reason after this. All he is preoccupied about now is stretching that tight little cunt with his knot. He hoists her up and sits her on the armchair. He nips at her throat, mouths a clothed nipple and dives under her dress. He noses at her bush, breathing in deep her intoxicating scent. His knot pulses at the smell.

Later, he tells himself.

He spreads her folds, salivating at the enticing view in front of him. He all but gobbles up her clit and sucks on it. Tav squeals above him, arching up as her legs wrap around his head. His cock aches as he eats her out. He swipes his tongue lower for a taste. He recognizes the taste of lubricant right away. Arousal overwhelms him so much at the realization Tav took the time to get her hole soft and pliant for him that it has him almost orgasming on the spot. He slips a careful finger inside and finds her relaxed and slippery. He goes back to teasing her clit with his mouth. Tav bucks into him, making all sorts of sweet sounds that spread Zevlor’s control thin. He digs his claws into the supple flesh of her thighs as he comes up for air, unable to resist his instincts any longer. He crawls back up to kiss her, shoving his pants down and kicking them off before rubbing his cock against her vulva.

“Yes! Yes,” Tav moans, bucking against him.

Zevlor loses all control on himself when he hears her. He pushes her legs on the armrests and he breaches her with easiness. She keens all the same. The old Hellrider grabs her hips and pushes forward, enveloped by her heavenly heat. He has to stop for a bit, breathing through his nose to keep himself from spilling right now. Tav grabs him by the neck to bend him down so she can kiss him, nudging him with her hips. He resumes, his pace erratic and urgent. The young woman doesn’t seem to mind, far from it: she tightens around him every time his ridges rub her sweet spot. He thumbs her clit, spreading her wetness as he fucks her hard. She writhes and arches, her face a mask of ecstasy. He has to have her. He must have her. Gods, he cannot let her belong to another man. He tries to tell himself it’s just the rut talking, but he knows deep down that after this he won’t be able to deny himself. She’s his. Just like he is hers.

He feels his knot swelling, his need calling for him to claim her. He looks down, greeted by a view he will never forget: Tav, in the throes of pleasure, a strap down revealing her breast, her dress hiked up, her lovely neck flushed. He wants nothing more than to keep her like this for the rest of his days, drunk on the pleasure his cock gives her. He pushes forward, his knot catching on her entrance. Tav moans brokenly, shoving herself down on it. Zevlor pushes and pushes and pushes, breathless with need.

He chokes when his knot slips inside. The young woman constricts around him, and that is the end for him. His release crashes over him like a storm. He moans high and loud as he fills her up. Beneath him, Tav cries out as she shakes with her orgasm, clawing at him. They stay like this for he knows not how long, mind blank as the pleasure tears him apart and stitches him back together. He slumps forward, resting his forehead against the armchair just above Tav’s head.

“We need to do it again,” she wheezes, panting.

“My next rut is in a year,” he chuckles with disbelief.

“I meant I want to do it again today.”

Zevlor’s eyes widen, shocked. Tav smiles widely at him, blushing. Gods, she’s beautiful. His back starts to pain him though, so he hoists her up again. She whimpers, tightening around his knot and Zevlor sees stars for a few seconds. He walks to the bed and lies down on it so Tav can rest on his chest.

“The advantage when you are old and decrepit like me is that your knot goes down much faster than if you’re young,” he tells her with a smile.

She looks at him, stern. It makes his cock twitch.

“Zevlor, you are not old or decrepit.”

She tries to shift, likely to sit up but she finds the knot still stuck inside her. She settles on glaring at him. The old Hellrider finds himself struck with fondness. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as he smiles tenderly.

“I didn’t even tell you if I return your feelings or not,” he tells her gently.

She scoffs.

“I know you love me too. I actually can’t believe it took me this long to realize you liked me. You look at me like I’m Sharess herself.”

Zevlor splutters, reddening. He truly did not expect her to be this cheeky…or to have guessed correctly.

“I could say the same of you,” he shoots back. “Why in the nine Hells do you not fancy a young man your age?”

“Why would I when you’re right here?” she chuckles and gods, all he wants is to kiss her.

She shifts and his cock slips out of her, his knot having deflated enough. Zevlor grunts. Tav looks with wonder at his sex.

“Don’t worry, being hard for this long is normal with tiefling,” he tells her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know either way,” she shrugs as she sits up and take off her dress. “It’s my first time.”

“What?!” Zevlor shouts, sitting up with alarm.

“Relax!” she laughs as if it’s a light matter. “I meant I never had sex. I got plenty of experience with myself…if you see what I mean. I am no blushing maiden.”

She eyes his cock with something akin to hunger. She idly wraps her fingers around the tip still wet from the lubricant and her fluids. Zevlor whimpers from the contact.

“I want to taste you,” she suddenly says.

Before the ex-Commander can answer, Tav grabs his knot and bows down to swallow him down. He’s left scrambling for purchase as she wraps her tongue around his ridges and squeezes his knot  She’s clearly not inexperienced.

“I– I thought you were a virgin,” he moans as he tangles a hand in her hair.

Gods, it felt so good.

“Blowjobs don’t count as sex,” she smirks before swallowing him down from tip to knot.

Zevlor shouts, tensing up as he watches his lover deep throating him. He swears in Infernal as he throws his head back. His thighs are starting to quiver with his impending release when Tav lets him go. She straddles him and rubs her vulva against his sex.

“Wait–” he pants, but she plants her gaze into his and lowers herself onto his cock.

Zevlor watches her cunt swallows him, his semen and her fluids making obscene squelching noises. He bites his lips as he digs his claws into her hips, trying hard to stay still while she slowly impales herself on his cock. She fucks herself slow and careful, hands above her head holding her hair as she scrunches up her nose in concentration. The old Hellrider devours her with his eyes, taking in her beautiful naked body. As she picks up her pace she lowers herself on him. He runs a hand down her back as she works herself on his cock. Suddenly Tav grabs him by the horns as she bears down on him. Zevlor keens. The young woman is above him arms stretched, holding onto his horns as she fucks herself on his cock. Her breasts swings with her thrusts and the tiefling watches, mesmerized, before capturing one in his mouth. He sucks hard, making his lover keen as her entrance catches on his knot.

“Fuck– You’re so big,” she whimpers as she’s taking him in.

They both shout when Zevlor’s knot locks into place inside Tav, both coming at the same time. When she slumps onto his chest, he wraps his arms around her.

“Are you alright?” he croaks, trying to catch his breath.

His lover hums dazedly, clearly on her way to sleep. He pets her hair with fondness. She deserved some rest after making him the happiest man in the world. This is going the best rut he’s had in decades, he smiles to himself.