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niningtori · 1 month

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supermodel | oneshot

part two

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after beomgyu ghosts you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, your close friend asks you if she can date him instead. you, being the pushover you are, say yes. but beomgyu's not done bothering you.

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! cheating (but it's lowkey justified if you ask me), unprotected sex (no!), oral (f. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, manipulative!beomgyu if you squint (lmk if you catch it lmao), if i missed anything lmk

word count: 6k (ouuu... definitely not 13k i'm sorry anon my love)

notes: ...hi. so, as most of my followers know, i primarily write angst. this is my first time ever posting smut on here and i genuinely don't know if it's any good. if it's bad,,,, i'm sorry in advance!! see ending for more notes :)

you do not like beomgyu. you don't like the way he keeps his hair so long, or the way he tucks it behind his ears when he's focused. you don't like that he has the same music taste as you and how much of a snob he is about it. you don't like the way he laughs obnoxiously loud and you especially don't like the way his cheeks dimple like little whiskers when he does it. no, you don't like beomgyu one bit.

it hasn't always been like this. there was a time, albeit brief and fleeting, that you really liked the aforementioned grievances you've grown to hate so much. in fact, you liked them so much, you even liked the boy himself. that ship has sailed, though. and it sails further and further as you watch him cuddle up even closer to one of your closest friends, hana. you aren't a bitter person, really. you're usually pretty laidback, all things considered, so when hana asked you if she could date the boy who ghosted you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, you said yes.

do you regret agreeing? well, how can you regret it when hana looks so happy? in fact, she looks happier than ever as beomgyu discreetly places his hand on her inner thigh. oh man. you think you're gonna be sick.

meeting beomgyu was like a meet cute in a romcom. you were alone in a cafe (cliché, but true) when he pulled up a seat and sat next to you. he was cute, he was charming, and, most surprisingly, he was actually really funny. he made you giggle more than once and you almost couldn't believe someone so seemingly perfect wanted anything to do with you, but he did. he was extremely eager, if anything, because as soon as you gave him your number, he texted you asking if you wanted to go out sometime. you, with your innocent heart, could only agree.

your first date was at that same cafe. he had memorized your order, even though he had only met you once, and you felt so flattered your heart skipped a beat. you're a little on the shyer side, but he was able to pull you out of your shell with ease. you'd later find out he has the ability to do that with everyone, but back then, you were amazed by how naturally he pulled it off.

after your first date, you'd texted all your friends about it. they asked for pictures and details, but you said it was too early and you didn't want to jinx it. you're the type to try not to get too caught up in the moment in favor of being more realistic, so it had been a pleasant surprise for most of your friends to hear how excited you were. this could really be something special, you thought.

and special, it was. your second date had been at a nice restaurant you'd never heard of. beomgyu was pulling out all the stops for you and spared nothing when it came to giving you the royal treatment. he was courteous and kind, but still mischievously flirty. you were enamored with everything about him. you were used to being treated kindly on dates, of course, but you had never seen anything quite like beomgyu. it seemed like he couldn't get enough of you, which was a novel feeling, though totally welcomed.

you finally felt confident enough to tell your friends all about him. when asked, you had no problem divulging all the finer details of your dates. you had nothing but praises for him, and even sent one of his instagram pictures to show off his good looks. most of them were taken aback at how handsome he was. hana, however, was not at all surprised. it shocked you to find out that she knew beomgyu, and knew him well. she had floated in the same circle of friends with him in college and you were pleased to find out that he had always been a really nice guy, if a little flighty at times, but he had never been that way with you. plus, it seemed to you that he had matured quite a bit. for once in your life, you got your hopes up. but, like most things, you would come to regret it.

your third and final date had been simple enough. he had asked you to come hang out at his place, but said his friends would likely be coming and going. it was nice. it was intimate. his apartment was small and a little messy, but filled with personality. you smiled when you saw polaroids he had taken of (and with) his friends adorning his bedroom walls. he seemed really sentimental, actually, but you liked that about him. you liked everything about him, really.

so when he leaned in for a kiss while watching some dumb old slasher flick, you closed your eyes and prepared to meet his warm lips. this was real. you would have a boyfriend, a near perfect one. and he liked you. he really, really liked you. what more could you ask for? but you never expected that a phone call would pull you out of your daze. you checked the caller id and immediately became worried. hana very rarely called you, but she said she was having an emergency and you, being the good friend you are, had to bail on beomgyu. the emergency in question was her having a meltdown over some guy she had never even mentioned, but had apparently really liked. you had no choice but to go to her place, bringing a tub of ice cream and all of her favorite snacks in tow. beomgyu said he understood, because of course he did, and said he would text you with other plans.

when he, in fact, did not text you first with plans, you had opted to text him yourself. you figured he had just forgotten or something, so you simply greeted him and apologized again for having to leave. it seems so fucking stupid to you now — the way you waited so anxiously by the phone for a reply that would never come. you remember staying up all night and jolting every time your phone buzzed. you were anxiously awaiting a text, a call, fucking anything, really. but it was pointless. after a few days of radio silence on beomgyu's end, you had pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that he would never respond. what did you do to scare him away? you thought you had done everything right, but you must’ve come on too strong or something. you felt utterly humiliated.

you were in your head again. it wouldn't surprise you if you had imagined the whole fucking thing, actually. but a few weeks later, hana had texted you asking if you were okay with her dating the boy you'd been waiting for. she seemed so hopeful and so happy, how could you say no? just because it didn't work out between you two didn't mean that it couldn't work out between them. maybe, deep down, the ugliest parts of you kind of hoped it wouldn't, but when she texted you with all the filthy details of the first time they hooked up, you knew you were thinking too highly of yourself.

beomgyu doesn't like you, and even if his refusal to text you back wasn't enough of an indication that that's the case, his attitude towards you while dating hana tells you everything you need to know. the way he manages to antagonize you over what would normally be completely menial things should be studied. when you trip over your words, he makes a point to call it out and laugh, which results in you, of course, tripping over your words even more. when you look like shit, he makes sarcastic comments along the lines of "oh i see you've decided to really doll yourself up this evening". what's worse is you're so non-confrontational, you just let him chirp.

what you don't know is that the more unbothered you look, the more eager he is to elicit a reaction out of you. it drives him crazy how nothing seems to drive you crazy, so he pushes and pushes, but it's like a fist landing on cotton. he's on the brink of madness trying to get you to say something, anything. but you never do. you just smile or shake your head and it's all he can do not to snap.

you’re at your favorite bar when you meet him. you’re not alone, or at least you shouldn’t be, but hana has gone outside to make a call. usually, you’d be the first one to accompany her, but you’re honestly not in the mood to hear her flirt with beomgyu (or beomie bear, as she calls him) over the phone. you never are, really, but especially not now as you down another shot of whatever the bartender has deemed as “the strongest shit they’ve got.” you don’t think you look particularly attractive at the moment, but when jay sees you, he’s flocking towards you.

“hey,” he says with a smile as he slides onto the stool next to yours.

“hey,” you reply shyly. are you imagining things or did he seriously just blush at your answer?

“i-i’m jay.” you can’t help but giggle at how nervous he seems. cute.

you take the time to introduce yourself and jay seems relieved that you’re actually receptive to his awkwardness. you like the way it feels to be in control for once. you like the way it feels to be wanted so much. so when he asks you if you want to go out in the near future, you say yes.

in the midst of your conversation, hana comes sauntering back in with a dopey grin on her face. she has, no doubt, just gotten off the phone with beomgyu if her satisfied expression is any indication. her satisfaction turns into surprise when she registers who’s sitting next to you.

“jay?!” she exclaims, taken aback by the familiar boy next to you.

“hana? oh my god, how are you?” he asks, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “we went to college together,” he explains when they part. your previous happiness crumbles in an instant. the nasty part of you wonders if she knows fucking everybody you’re interested in, but you shut it down mercilessly. it's not hana’s fault she's so likable. it's your fault for not being more so, actually.

“i’m good,” she says with a light giggle. they catch up for a moment before she drops an atomic bomb. “you know, i’m actually with beomgyu now.”

“damn, really? i thought that would never actually happen,” he replies, genuine shock falling across his sculpted features. your interest can’t help but be piqued at this.

“what makes you say that?” she asks rather defensively. jay can tell he messed up from her tone and he backtracks immediately.

“o-oh nothing. i just never pegged you two as compatible, but congratulations! i know you’ve liked him for a long time.” ?... ??...???? what the hell?

“what is he talking about?” you can’t help but ask confusedly. hana looks thoroughly reddened as she fumbles for an explanation.

“i-i liked beomie back in college. n-nothing major!” she stammers. you can do nothing but stare. she liked beomgyu and she never told you? well, you were half in love with the boy after three dates and you’re still half in love with him, actually, so it’s not particularly surprising that she fell for him, but the fact that she never mentioned it feels iffy at best. jay can sense the tension, and he cleverly excuses himself with:

“shit, my friends are here. i’ll text you soon?” he says, looking to you for confirmation. you manage to muster up a smile and a nod, but you’re still disturbed by this revelation.

“... are you mad?” hana asks tentatively.

“n-no. of course not!” you say with conviction, but deep down, you know you’re uncomfortable. she probably knows it, too, but she doesn’t pry much further.

“i’m glad you’re not mad,” she sighs. “anyway, it’s not like you’re dating him now.” she pokes at the sore spot on your heart with ease. maybe if she were more sober, she’d see the hurt on your face, but as it is, she doesn’t register a thing.

so hana liked beomgyu back in college? why hadn’t she told you? well, you guess it doesn’t make a difference now. she’s with him. you’re not. what else is there to say, really? but in the back of your mind, gears start turning. you just don’t know it yet.

hana has been a lot nicer to you than usual after that night at the bar. she’s always nice, but she seems hellbent on making sure your prospective date with jay goes well. you suppose it’s her way of making it up to you for withholding her secret crush on beomgyu from you. to be honest, there’s no real reason for her to do so, but you accept her kindness graciously. now, the night before your big date, she’s practically hounding you with questions.

“what are you gonna wear?” she asks over the phone.

“mmm, i dunno yet,” you hum into the speaker. you really don’t know. jay invited you to a house party, which is not the most romantic place in the world, but hana convinced you that he’s just awkward and a group setting (with drinks, no less) would loosen him up. you realize that you want to impress him. you want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room, but nothing you have in your closet quite fits the bill.

“ooh, i know! you can just borrow one of my dresses. what about the black one? the one you complimented last time we went out! i won’t be home tomorrow night, but i’ll leave the key under the mat, okay? so just come grab it when you’re free!” she sounds proud of herself for coming up with that. you don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a little too scandalous for you, so you grit your teeth and accept her peace offering.

“mmm, yeah. that sounds good. thank you, hana,” you reply.

“pay attention to meeee,” you hear a deep voice cut in from over the phone. beomgyu. you try not to think about the way your heart aches when you hear him (very loudly) plant a kiss on… some part of her body. you’re not exactly sure where it is, but you falter when you hear her reaction.

“beomie, ah, not there,” hana moans and you feel a pang in your chest. “hey, i’ve gotta go, okay?” you don’t have to imagine what they’re about to do and it hurts.

“okay,” you say with a bitter smile, but the call drops before you can even reply.

it’s finally the night of the date and you’re anxious, to put it mildly. you don’t know how long you spent trying to get your hair and makeup right, but an ungodly amount of time has passed. you’re almost tempted to skip getting the dress from hana’s apartment, but you really don’t have anything else that suits the occasion, so you begrudgingly hail a cab over to her place.

you enter her apartment and head toward her bedroom, where the pretty black dress is waiting for you. with a sigh, you strip out of your sweats and shimmy into the dress. you look in hana's bedroom mirror and you have to admit that you look pretty good. you feel a lot more confident going out with a guy as handsome as jay now. as you’re fixing up your hair one last time, you’re stunned to hear the apartment door opening. she’s home? weird, but welcome. you need a second pair of eyes on you.

“hey! how do i look?” you say with a smile as you exit her bedroom, but you’re not greeted with hana’s smiling face. instead, you’re met with beomgyu’s frown.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

“this is my girlfriend’s apartment. what are you doing here?” you thought he had heard over the phone that you’d be here to pick up the dress tonight. but then, you supposed that he may have been a little preoccupied sucking the skin off of hana to really pay attention to much else. you’re so busy over analyzing this, you don’t even notice how intently beomgyu is staring at you now. even if you did, you’d probably misread it as ridicule rather than what it truly is.

“nothing, i-i’m on my way out,” you reply simply. with that, you start trying to walk past him. before you can, though, he’s asking you questions.

"you're seriously going out with him? in that, too?” he asks, disgust apparent. at least, that’s what it sounds like to you. your eyes survey your own attire and you feel extremely small in this moment, all things considered. normally, you'd shut down and second guess yourself. maybe you do look a little ridiculous in this tiny dress and maybe going out with jay is a bad in idea. maybe he's just fucking with your head and maybe he'll toss you away just like beomgyu did. maybe, maybe, maybe. but then? maybe not. and even if he does, you don't want to hear any of that shit from beomgyu of all people.

"oh, fuck you, beomgyu."

he looks perfectly scandalized by your comment. you’ve never talked back to him before, and certainly not like this. his eyebrows raise and his jaw drops before he can finally choke out the words "e-excuse me?"

"i said fuck you. i really don't give a shit about what you have to say anymore."

you're again trying to barrel past him but he steps in front of the door, scowl etched into his pretty features.

"what? are you mad at me now?" you say mockingly. "well, you don't get to be mad at me. move."

it is genuinely amazing to see beomgyu as he is now. he looks like a child who's floundering for a comeback.

"w-why are you mad? i'm just looking out for you!" oh, you can't help but laugh in his face at that one. he winces when you do.

"my god, that's rich coming from you. what's the worst that could happen? we go on a couple of dates and then he ghosts me? can't say it hasn't happened before."

"th-that's different!" he sputters, face flushing beet red.

"different how?!" you counter. he’s such a fucking hypocrite. you're not the type to get so riled up, but his words have you seeing red. his next words, even more so.

"you... you don't even like me!"

"and why exactly would i like the man who ghosted me, again? you can kick rocks for all i care!" you try to steady your breathing. blowing up like this right before your first date with jay can't be good for your head. luckily, it seems like beomgyu is still fishing for words when you regain your composure. "whatever. i'm done. goodbye, beomgyu." you reach around him for the door handle, but he slams it shut.

"what the fuck?!" you exclaim exasperatedly.

"you don't understand," beomgyu says, voice trembling and eyes scarlet. "hana said you didn't like me."

"hana? what does hana have to do with — oh." oh.

"she said you didn't like me and thought i was obnoxious. she told me she called and interrupted our date because you wanted her to.”

“why didn’t you just ask, beomgyu? i liked you!” you exclaim. he ruined everything all because of a few words from someone else?

“why would i ask when hana told me that you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

"so you believed hana instead of just opening your fucking mouth? what, does she wipe your ass and spoon feed you, too?

“watch your mouth,” beomgyu says lowly.

“or what?” you taunt with a smirk. “you’ll be mad? is beomie bear gonna lose his temper?” you’re on your tiptoes now, face mere inches away from his. where you got the confidence to provoke the man who towers over you even on the worst of days, you have no idea, but the idea of seeing beomgyu squirm is lighting a fire in you you didn’t know existed. is he gonna hit you? scream in your face? you’re excited to see how he reacts. when his gaze flickers from your smiling eyes to your lips, you don’t even get half a second to question his odd look when his lips come crashing down onto yours.

his big hands grip the back of your head, holding you in place as he punishes your lips with a force you’ve only ever dreamt about. his lips are chapped and you can taste a hint of his favorite lip balm, which he had smeared on just before his arrival. you’re too shocked to move, you’re too shocked to do anything besides gasp when he bites your bottom lip. he takes your open mouth as permission to shove his warm tongue into it. you want to say the kiss is full of fire, and it is, but there’s an overwhelming sense of gentleness, too. it’s hard to put into words, so instead of trying to, you let yourself melt into the feeling. he takes your acquiescence as a sign to go even further. at this point, he’s practically dragging you over to the couch. you’re surprised at how you don’t even attempt to resist when he pushes you down. you’re seated now and he licks his lips hungrily as he lifts your pathetic excuse for a dress off of your body and tosses it somewhere behind the couch. his eyes alight with something akin to raw anger when he takes note of the fact that you are, in fact, not wearing a bra.

“you were seriously gonna go out like that? what a whore,” he says menacingly. you’re now clad in nothing but your favorite pair of underwear. you would usually feel insecure in front of such an intense gaze, but beomgyu looks at you like he wants to devour every part of you. and he will, with time.

“i thought jay would like it,” you shrug. his eyes burn even brighter and he looks like he’s on the brink of snapping. god, fucking with him is so exhilarating. is this how he feels when he’s trying to get under your skin? maybe you do understand why he antagonizes you, actually. this shit feels amazing.

he kneels down before you and possessively kisses your neck until it's numb — pouring out hot kisses and sucking on the skin there like he’s staking his claim. it’s almost like he’s daring another man to touch you, and he doesn’t have to say anything because it’s like you already understand his intentions, and you revel in it.

his lips travel down to your breasts and they almost ache in anticipation. cruelly, he avoids your pert nipples and opts to circle his tongue around them, sucking on the soft skin and leaving marks in his wake. one of his hands move down to your underwear and he stops his teasing when he feels how wet you are.

“j-jesus, is all this for me?” you’re too embarrassed to respond. he’s trying to keep his cool, but he’s taken aback by how soaked you are. he was already hard just from the kiss alone, but now he aches. he slides your underwear to the side and actually groans when he sees your slickness for himself. slowly, teasingly, he finds his way to your clit and you let out a soft gasp when he finally touches it. you’re unable to stifle a moan when he gingerly takes one of his long, calloused fingers and begins to push it into your cunt.

“t-tight!” he hisses. “how am i gonna fit?” you’d roll your eyes in annoyance at his self-aggrandizing words if you could muster up anything other than the feeling of pure bliss as he slides another finger in. he’s kneeling between your legs, and you feel some sort of sick satisfaction as you watch the boy lick his lips before trailing opened-mouth kisses on your thighs as he inches closer and closer to your cunt.

you feel his cool breath against your core and you’re seconds away from begging him to continue, but he seems even more eager than you are as he quickly buries his face into your heat. his first lick is long and slow, but you can feel the vibrations from his moan and it reverberates through your legs all the way to your toes. as if he’s a man starved, he messily licks and sucks on your pussy while pumping his fingers in and out mercilessly. you have to hold onto his long hair, not because you want to hurt him, but because it’s the only thing keeping you sane. when he hooks his fingers, you can’t help but call out his name.

“b-beomgyu!” his darkened eyes snap up to meet yours while his pace becomes even more punishing and, before you know it, you’re spasming around his fingers. he should stop there, but he continues with little kitten licks until you’re begging him to show you mercy.

he reluctantly parts from your cunt and you can see evidence of your release dripping down his chin. his messy hair, his soaked face, his fucking everything looks like it’s been branded by you and you can’t help but gulp, heat pooling in your stomach again, far too soon after your intense orgasm. usually, a man would wipe his face and clean himself up, but he does nothing of the sort as he leans towards you and practically pleads with you to kiss him.

“so good, want you to taste it,” he says simply as he pulls you in for another filthy kiss. he looks possessed, almost, by your taste. by your scent. by you.

your cum mixed with the taste of beomgyu himself is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. he wraps his tongue around yours, as if he’s selflessly just trying to share this new discovery.

he unbuckles his own pants like a madman, hastily yanking them down. so hypnotized, he doesn’t even think to take them off all the way, nevermind his shirt. his cock springs up and it’s thick and long, the angry veins juxtaposing from his perfect, doll-like face. he was right. you don’t know how he’ll fit in your tight pussy.

still, he ruts his bare cock against your throbbing cunt and you both moan when it accidentally catches against your entrance.

“c-condom?” you ask breathily.

“p-please, please just let me feel you. i can pull out,” he whines. who are you to say no to a man begging?

“...o-okay,” you begin to choke out, and almost before you can even finish, he’s pushing himself in. you both groan at the feeling. he meets resistance before he’s even halfway in and his eyes redden with a lust so strong it almost scares you.

“s-so tight, so perfect for me,” he says before pulling out and harshly ramming himself back in, sheathing himself completely in you. your eyes begin to sting with pure pleasure. he sits for a moment, just enjoying the way your pussy sucks him in. nothing in your life has ever made you feel this heavenly. not that you’re going to heaven, especially after this, and certainly not if hana has anything to say about it. oh my god, hana.

“w-wait,” you interrupt before he can pull out again. “we can’t! hana—”

“don’t give a fuck about hana. j-jus’ want you,” he slurs with that lisp that you love so much. and that’s when he really starts. ruthlessly, he sets his pace. ramming into you as the filthy sounds of skin against skin and slick against slick permeate the room. his head lulls back in sheer ecstasy and you’re crying out his name over and over, like a mantra. it’s the only thing chaining you to reality. that, and his viselike grip on your thighs.

“so g-good, so warm. never h-had a pussy this good before,” he praises as he continues drilling into you. one of his hands snakes its way to your clit and you’re seeing stars. hot tears spring in your eyes and you’re literally crying as his cock pushes you further and further off the deep end.

“so fucking good for me. you wouldn't even care if i came inside, would you, slut? walking around in that tiny dress, just begging to be fucked.”

“n-no! i’m not begging f-for anything,” you manage to choke out.

“really? but you look pretty fucking desperate right now. should i stop?” he asks with a mean smile, slowing down the speed of his hips snapping into yours.

“please don’t! i-i’m sorry. please don’t stop!” you whimper. he wasn’t gonna stop, anyway, but watching tears pour out of your eyes at the mere thought of his cock not being inside of you brings him to another level of smugness.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i won’t stop. i’ll give you exactly what you need.”

“b-beomie!” you cry. “not gonna last much longer!”

“me neither, pretty girl. fuck, come with me, okay?” he hisses.

“come inside?” you plead. he almost stills at this, but his brutal pace never stops despite it all.

“fuck! i knew that good girl act was a sham. you want me to get you pregnant so everyone knows who you belong to?”

“yes! d-don’t care. just want you,” you whine, mirroring his words from earlier. that’s enough to make him lose himself. his resolve snaps and he’s painting the inside of your walls while you helplessly clench around him. it takes a minute to catch your breath and you can’t help but lock eyes with beomgyu as he stays buried in your warmth. his gaze is still lustful, that much you know, but there’s an unknown feeling teeming in his eyes, too.

gingerly, he pulls out and you both watch as his cum trickles out of you. his eyes are alight with fascination and you don’t doubt for a second that he wants to lap it all up and feed it right back to you, but he doesn’t. he simply grabs your cheeks and pulls you in for another heavy kiss.

“wanted to do this for so long,” he says after you part.

“how long?” you can’t help but ask.

“since i saw you sitting alone at the café,” he shrugs and smiles shyly. he’s wanted you since he first saw you, which is enough to make you grin, but the blissful smile is wiped off of your face when you remember beomgyu isn’t just some random guy who’s attracted to you. he’s hana’s boyfriend.

you know now that she orchestrated the downfall of your relationship with beomgyu, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty as hell for fucking her boyfriend on her couch. oh my god, what have you done? you fucked your friend’s boyfriend in her own home. not only that, but you fucked raw and even let him come inside. you shiver when you recount his nasty words about getting you pregnant, and he really might’ve. you’re not on the pill or anything. oh god.

“i-i need to get out of here,” you say frantically. you hurriedly push him off of you and wince when you feel his cum leaking out of your cunt. you stumble to the bedroom, legs still weak from what just transpired, and grab your sweats and snake them back on.

“what are you doing?” beomgyu asks, confused and somewhat annoyed that you’ve effectively ruined the mood.

“i’m getting the fuck out of here. this… this whole thing was a mistake,” you say, on the verge of tears. you don't even deserve to cry, honestly, but you want to, anyway.

“a-a mistake? why? wait, don’t go!” he says, stepping in front of you again.

“beomgyu, are you fucking with me? you’re with hana! why wouldn’t this be a mistake? oh my god, and i-i’m not — i don’t take birth control. we really might’ve… fuck just move, please!” you plead. you think you might be on the verge of a panic attack, tears and snot streaming down your face. you just wish he would fucking move so you could get out of here and start fixing everything because the guilt you feel just by seeing his face is all-consuming. there’s no way you can face hana again after this. you’ll cut her out of your life, and when you’re courageous enough, you’ll tell her what you did to her. you’ll lose hana and all the rest of your friends once they hear about what kind of person you really are. and as for beomgyu, well, knowing hana, she’ll stay with him and you’ll be the homewrecker in this story.

“hey, shh, it’s okay,” beomgyu coos softly, taking your tear-streaked face in his big, warm hands. “talk to me. what are you thinking?” “i… i ruined everything,” you begin with a sob. “i hurt hana. you hurt hana. a-and everybody’s going to be so fucking mad at me. god, she’s never going to forgive me.”

“listen,” he says softly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the tears falling down your cheeks. “she lied to you, and she lied to me, too.”

“because she loves you, beomgyu. she only did it because she loves you so much,” you argue, tearing your face from his grasp, but he only locks his arms around your waist instead.

“and what about me? what about how i feel?”

“what are you trying to say?” you sniffle.

“i’m saying i meant it when i said i don’t give a fuck about hana. i’m sorry, but i don’t. i never did,” he says as if he’s coaxing a child. you want to believe his words so fucking badly, but you’ve seen the way they’ve been attached at the hip these past few months and you can’t help but feel like he’s just a) full of shit and/or b) pussydrunk on you. he can sense your apprehension and wants to tear his own hair out in frustration.

“can i be honest with you?” he asks.

you nod in response.

“i… i only started hanging out with her because i knew she was close to you. i don’t know if it’s because i wanted to get back at you or if i just wanted to see you more. maybe a bit of both, honestly. i-i know that’s wrong, but it’s true.” you’re at a loss for words. all you can ask is:

“why?” he chuckles at this.

“because i like you, dummy,” he says sweetly while releasing one of the hands that grips your waist, using it to fix up your hair. he likes you? the same beomgyu who has effectively harassed you for the past few months… likes you?

“you have a fucking hilarious way of showing it. i thought you hated me,” you retort.

“i was just teasing,” he says softly. “i just wanted you to notice me and nothing i did ever seemed to bother you.”

“well, it did,” you scoff.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “i just like you a lot, okay? i’m sorry for being an asshole. and i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” you want to say okay, but the fact remains that he’s still very much hana’s boyfriend. regardless of his feelings, you still betrayed her and your friends aren’t going to be very understanding of your situation with him. the only chance you have of retaining your friendships now is to cut beomgyu off and beg on your knees for forgiveness. but you like him. you really, really like him. and the temptation to relent is even stronger as he begins to plant kisses on your face along with promises to dump her and, in his words, to “be good from now on”. when his innocent kisses turn lustful and begin to trail down your neck, what else can you do besides agree?

notes pt. 2: so...? i hope this was okay i really do LMFAOO. i have no idea how this will be received. if it's bad, i might delete it because i truly don't know what i'm doing. anyway, feedback is always appreciated! it gives me the confidence to branch out like this so i'd love to hear from y'all :)

permanent taglist*: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

*minors and ageless blogs on my permanent taglist were not added for obvious reasons. i made the taglist before i decided to make supermodel smut, so if you would like to be removed from this or any future smut works, please message me!

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sayruq · 18 days

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On Thursday afternoon, the Freedom Flotilla Coalition was contacted by the Guinea Bissau International Ships Registry (GBISR), requesting an inspection of our lead ship – Akdenez. This was a highly unusual request as our ship had already passed all required inspections; nevertheless, we agreed. The inspector arrived on Thursday evening. On Friday afternoon, before the inspection was completed, the GBISR, in a blatantly political move, informed the Freedom Flotilla Coalition that it had withdrawn the Guinea Bissau flag from two of the Freedom Flotilla’s ships, one of which is our cargo ship, already loaded with over 5000 tons of life-saving aid for the Palestinians of Gaza.

In its communication informing us of this cancelation, the GBISR made specific reference to our planned mission to Gaza. It also made several extraordinary requests for information, including confirmation of the ships’ destination, any potential additional port calls, and the discharge port for humanitarian aid and estimated arrival dates and times. It further demanded a formal letter explicitly approving the transportation of humanitarian aid and a complete manifest of the cargo. Again, this is a highly unusual move from a flagging authority. Normally, national flagging authorities concern themselves only with safety and related standards on vessels bearing their flag, and are not concerned with the destination, route, cargo manifests or the nature of a specific voyage. Just like when you register your car, the authorities don’t require you to detail to them every place you are going to go with the car. Sadly, Guinea-Bissau has allowed itself to become complicit in Israel’s deliberate starvation, illegal siege and genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. Israel is showing the world the extent to which it will go to deny Palestinians the aid they need to stay alive, in direct contravention of International Humanitarian Law, UN Security Council resolutions, and two orders of the International Court of Justice. Israel is only allowed to get away with this because we have an international order where law does not apply equally, where people are not valued the same, and where might equals right. The US has hijacked international law and is violating its own laws to protect Israel at every turn. A recently-leaked USAID memo states that “famine in Gaza is inevitable,” and that “changes could reduce but not stop widespread civilian deaths.” It also states that the government of Israel does not currently demonstrate necessary compliance with U.S. law required to receive U.S. military aid. Nevertheless, last week, the U.S. Congress passed and Biden signed a $26 billion aid package for Israel. It is this kind of naked impunity, over decades, that has brought us to this point where Israel can carry out a genocide, that includes a public declaration by Israel’s leaders that it is going to deliberately starve children, and not only face no consequences, but also involve a majority of world governments in its crimes. While our governments claim to care about Palestinian lives, they are complying, and indeed enforcing a situation where a state that has been found to be plausibly committing a genocide, is allowed to control what, if any life-saving aid gets to the people trying to stay alive.Yesterday, the UN Special Rapporteurs on the Right to Food, on the Right to Housing, and on the situation of human rights in the occupied Palestinian territory, issued a statement stating that civil society initiatives like the Freedom Flotilla are important precisely because governments are not complying with their obligations under international law and many of these governments are even complicit in Israel’s siege and genocide. The statement affirmed that ours was a legitimate challenge to Israel’s control over the delivery of aid to Gaza and it demanded safe passage for our flotilla. However, without a flag, we cannot sail. But, this is not the end. Israel cannot and will not crush our resolve to break its illegal siege and reach the people of Gaza. The people of Gaza and all of Palestine remain steadfast under the most horrific, unimaginable conditions. We take strength from their incredible, inexplicable ability to maintain their humanity, dignity and hope when the world has given them no reason to do so.It is our responsibility to keep that hope alive. WE WILL SAIL.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #freedom flotilla #guinea bissau #famine #gaza genocide #genocide

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helix-studios117 · 3 months

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Halo: A Beginner's Guide

For all of you newcomers out there, here's a list that I've wanted to do for a while now. For those who are new to Halo, likely introduced by the TV Show, and want to get into it, here's my 2 cents on how to ease into the franchise.

The Games

Play the original four games PLUS Halo Infinite in chronological order. The spin-off games (Reach, ODST, the Wars games and the Spartan games) are all completely optional, but they are there for people who want play other games that aren't centered around the Master Chief. I recommend just watching all of the cutscenes of Halo 5: Guardians in some supercut "movie" Youtube video, since the 5th game is... bad and, story wise, you're not missing much.

So in this order WITHOUT the spin-offs:

Halo: Combat Evolved

Halo 2

Halo 3

Halo 4

Halo Infinite

If you want to play the games WITH the spin-offs included, then in this order:

Halo Wars

Halo Reach

Halo: Combat Evolved

Halo 2

Halo 3: ODST

Halo 3

Halo: Spartan Assault

Halo: Spartan Strike (Note: This game takes place in two different time-periods, so just play this after Spartan Assault for convenience sake)

Halo 4

Halo Wars 2

Halo Infinite

My advice: Play the main four (+ Infinite) FIRST, then replay the main-games WITH the spin-offs in chronological-order.

Books & Comics

Here comes my favorite part!

Books

Halo: The Fall Of Reach, Halo: First Strike & Halo: Contact Harvest - The FIRST books in the entire franchise, these books set the stage for the entire setting of the Halo world. The first half of The Fall Of Reach is Master Chief's origin story, while the second half is about, well, "the fall of Reach." First Strike is a book that takes place in-between the first and second game AND, for a high-octane action-book, has a shocking amount of shipping material. And finally, Contact Harvest details the early years of the Human-Covenant War AND further fleshes out the Covenant as an antagonistic force by showing their side of things.

Halo: Silent Storm & Halo: Oblivion - For those who want MOAR Master Chief, these two books focus on a younger Chief fighting the Covenant in the earlier uears of the war. These two are probably my favorite Halo books thus far.

Halo: Ghosts Of Onyx & The Kilo-5 Trilogy - It's crucial to read Ghosts Of Onyx first BEFORE delving into Glasslands, the first book in The K5-Trilogy, since Glasslands takes place IMMEDIATELY after Ghosts Of Onyx. Anyways, these stories are for those who are bored of Master Chief and want to read about other, admittedly more fascinating Spartans. Kurt and Naomi are definitely among my favorite Spartans that aren't named "Master Chief," "Blue-Team" and "Silver-Team."

Halo Evolutions - An anthology book with each story taking place in some corner of the Halo universe or another, this is a book I recommend for world-building purposes.

Comics

Halo: The Graphic Novel - Just like Evolutions, Halo: The Graphic Novel is an anthology series thay tells different stories from different corners of the Halo universe for world-building purposes. These stories are all new stories and are NOT comic-adaptations of any of the stories in Evolutions, so don't worry about basically reading the same stories twice; The Graphic Novel has a similar concept, but all of the stories are different.

Halo: Blood Line - Black-Team is the coolest group of Spartans in the entire Spartan-II Program; they're group of misfit loners (who secretly have feelings for each other) who answer ONLY to ONI (the CIA of the Halo universe) and wear black suits of armor with roman-numerals etched onto their visors. They do cool-guy shit together, and this comic follows their story.

Other Material

Audio-Dramas

I Love Bees - Taking place in various different points in time, I Love Bees was an ARG that was turned into an audio-play long after it was deciphered. I won't spoil anything that happens, but I will say this: Shit gets kinda crazy.

Hunt The Truth - Another ARG. This fictional podcast was made to promote Halo 5: Guardians and... it's the best damn part to come out of that stinker of a game; Hunt The Truth's narrative is SO much more interesting than Halo 5's story, it HURTS. Anyways, it's about a reporter uncovering the truth of the Spartan-II Program as ONI starts a smear campaign against the Master Chief to cover their own asses.

Movies & Shows

Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn - This web-film was promotional material for Halo 4 (as it's title suggests), and it follows a group teenaged military-school students going about their lives as Lasky, a confused cadet who is struggling to find a direction in life and live up to his family's reputation, grapples with the struggles of military-life in his academy.

Halo: The Series - If, by some off-chance, you WEREN'T introduced to Halo via the show, here's the recommendation. Form your own opinion, but here's my advice: Like what you want to like and don't follow the word of mouth.

Halo Legends - An anime anthology that, just like Evolutions and The Graphic Novel, world-builds the mythology of Halo by telling different, disconnected but ultimately in-continuity stories set within the game's universe. Odd One Out, Homecoming and The Package are my favorite shorts in the film.

Machinimas

Red Vs Blue - What else? Seasons 1 - 14 are my recommendations, don't watch anything else beyond that because it SERIOUSLY drops in quality. Just wait for it's final season, Season 20, to come out; you're not missing much with seasons 15 - 19.

The Spartan Legacy - A seriously underrated series. Made by a Youtuber under the name: 'Chronicler177,' The Spartan Legacy takes place in an alternate-continuity where Chief disappears and never comes back after the events of Halo 3. As a result, the Spartan-IVs and Vs (both of which are more interesting than in-canon; and the Spartan-Vs are a new creation within this web-show itself) are created to take his place.

WHEW! That's all, ladies and gents.

@authortobenamedlater, @silverpelt3600, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites, @mrtobenamedlater, @biomecharnotaurus, @killer-orca-cosplay, @cheezbot, @caffeineyum, @asimplesimpsimping.

#halo #halo the series #halo infinite #halo au #halo expanded universe #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #halo series #halo tv #halo tv series #halo tv show #halo reach #halo 3 #master chief #john 117 #halo reloaded #helix studios117

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

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Avenue of Approach (John Price x Reader)

Kate tries to pick up where she left off. John plays developments in your relationship close to the vest.

less than 1k words

CW: reference to oral sex

feedback welcome

It takes Kate almost half the night before she can pinpoint what’s different about John. Which annoys her. Which in turn throws her game off. Which annoys her even further when John wins the pot that evening and sticks around to count it out slowly, mirthful in his victory. She decides to exact some vengeance and sharpens her metaphorical blade on his thick skin.

“Took a while but it finally dawned on me what’s different about you tonight. You might be in the best mood I’ve seen in a year or two, John.”

“mm…depends on which year or two you’re referring to, I suppose.” He says by way of agreement, tapping a small stack of bills into order against the table top.

“Got anything to do with your lady-friend from last time? Get things, er…moving in the right direction?” Kate asks, having had enough whiskey while sitting around waiting for the game to end to feel braver than she ought.

John tucks his chin into his chest and looks up at Kate with his brows raised, assessing. A familiar look of disapproval slowly settles in to his features.

“Are you asking to be a friend or to be a sore loser?” John pokes back, nailing Kate in her soft underbelly. Their friendship, hard fought and well tested, a vulnerability for them both.

His response confirms her earlier suspicions, no matter his half-assed denial. Kate knows him well, and won’t be swayed from her assessment of the situation easily. She’s happy to watch him try, though.

“John, please. You’re leaving with all my spending cash for the rest of the week, at least cough up some details.”

The corners of John’s mouth twitch as he fights off a smile, his face mellowing again. He can’t summon the energy to be cagey with Laswell, simply in too good of a mood to act otherwise.

“What did you want to know?” He’s humouring her, tucking the wad of cash that is his winnings into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Surely you’ve got her to agree to do more than just kiss you by now?” Kate’s nursing the end of a whiskey, spinning it in her hands while she waits for John to answer.

“We’re taking it slow, but yes.” He doesn’t elaborate and Kate’s smart enough, even drunk, to not stray further down that avenue. John has to physically start a task or he’ll starting reminiscing about eating his love out on her couch the other night. Her delectable thighs wrapped around his head were not enough to muffle her keening cry when she came on his face and fingers. He starts picking up the playing cards and facing them in the same direction, keeping his hands busy and his brain preoccupied. It works and stymies the beginnings of an erection. Kate’s prying works wonders as an ice bath, too.

“Thought you’ve known her a long time, why take it slow? Don’t know her well enough yet? Do you think maybe another 20 years ought to do it?” The drink is making Kate mouthy, something she’ll regret tomorrow.

“Piss off, Laswell. She’s scared to lose something we’ve had for a long time.” John stacks the cards on the table and crosses his arms over his chest.

“How did you two meet?” Kate tries a different tack, asking for details from the past instead of the present. It works, as much as anything ever works on John.

“She was dating a mate of mine for a while before I shipped out. By the time I got back on my first leave they had broken up.” He kept the fact that his mate had taken to harassing and intimidating her, and that John had broken the lad’s cheekbone convincing him to leave her alone, to himself. Going forward he’d dropped the mate and kept tabs on the pretty bird. He’d yet to regret that choice.

“And you didn’t get an opportunity to ask her out in the last two decades?” Kate is the embodiment of skeptical.

“No.” John deadpanned, shutting down that line of questioning. He watched Laswell sulk into her whiskey for a moment.

The truth was, he’d had a front row seat to half of her life. His line of work, and being away as much as he was with no guarantee of return was too much. He knew it would kill a fledgling relationship with her quickly. She didn’t have the temperament for long periods alone, and John didn’t have the heart to ask it of her. He’d promised himself that if he made it to retirement, if she was single by some stroke of luck, he would finally do something about the feelings he’d been harbouring. The rest, as they say, was history.

Recent history. It had been enough, once upon a time, to know she was out there, doing well in the world. Made it easier to leave, to know it was ultimately keeping her safe, what he did in the shadows. Now, selfish man that he was, he couldn’t sit and watch and have it be enough. He needed more; from her, from their relationship. He was willing to go slow, and like a starving man brought to a feast, it was probably wiser to do so.

“If you’re done, Kate? I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He pushed back from the table, swinging his coat over his shoulders smoothly. He gave Kate a smirk on his way past, just to rile her up and was gratified to see it working.

Good. Nosy git.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price #kate laswell #call of duty #fanfic #fanfiction #inappropriate questions #old friends #friends to lovers #poker night #john price x f!reader #john price x female reader

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ginnsbaker · 11 months

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (6/?)

Chapter summary: The relationship between you and Wanda reaches a critical juncture.

Chapter word count: 10,500 words

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter), Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: mildly dubious consent, alcohol abuse, smut, toxic relationships

Author's note: Yup.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next chapter: Seven

Part VI

Wanda hasn’t heard from you in exactly a week.

After you dropped off Sparky at her apartment, she attempted to invite you in for a chance to explain herself, but you firmly declined and hastily departed without uttering a single word or even casting a glance in her direction. Somehow, the situation has deteriorated further than where it’s been months ago.

As before, Wanda made numerous attempts to call you and sent lengthy messages, earnestly explaining that she never intended to offend you and expressing profuse apologies. Over time, her messages grew increasingly desperate, pleading with you to at least inform her if you no longer wished to see her again. However, you remained silent, leaving her messages unanswered. Eventually, her calls ceased to connect, and a warning symbol appeared next to her texts, indicating delivery failure.

The implications were clear.

You’ve finally blocked her.

She couldn’t understand why the topic of children affected you to the point that you’re hell-bent on writing her off this time. Your discussions about having them never went beyond who’s carrying (Wanda) and how many (two); it was more of wishful thinking that didn’t make the priority list in the five years you’ve been married.

It’s why she didn’t think twice to open up about her regrets of not having them, contemplating whether things would have turned out differently–if she would have turned out differently. Maybe, she would have been someone who didn't prioritize her own needs above all else.

In a roundabout manner, it was her attempt to convey that she felt flawed and tainted.

There’s no excuse for her cheating. But she wanted you to understand anyway, that if she could have prevented it somehow, she’d give everything she has to seize that opportunity.

But as it turned out, it was foolish of her to think like you were still partners in the old days; where she didn’t need to filter out her thoughts because they were safest with you. You were her best friend, after all. It became challenging for her to strike a balance between being true to herself and expressing her thoughts with unwavering honesty. Ironically, her sincerity and openness only served to push you further away. Clearly, her efforts to do the right thing have only resulted in diminishing her chances of reconciliation.

Over the last few days, Wanda’s thought a lot about showing up at your door, but seeing how unpredictable you’ve become to her, the prospect of being turned away like a beggar frightens her more than anything. And worse, it might just prompt you to move out of Natasha’s apartment and consequently, out of her life for good.

Wanda couldn’t take that risk. She’s lost you for the third time now; and each of them has hurt more than the previous one. How many more times does she have to lose you in order for her to learn how to keep you?

“This isn’t what I ordered.”

Wanda blinks at the customer with a vacant expression. He took one sip and arbitrarily dismissed the drink before turning his attention back to the tablet in front of him.

“You ordered an Iced Americano with oat milk, two pumps of sugar free vanilla and one pump of hazelnut syrup.” Wanda recites his order from memory.

“No water.” he replies in a monotone, rigidly unbothered in his pristine suit.

Wanda swallows dryly; that detail she forgot about.

“My apologies. I’ll be back with your drink in a few.”

Wanda hurries to the coffee bar to make another. In autopilot, she redoes it from scratch, putting together the ingredients with preciseness that could only be perfected by hours of preparing complex orders alike. She mixes them all together, before filling the cup with ice to the brim. However, right before she can serve it, another customer comes up to the counter, with a mild complaint about their paninis.

It takes less than a minute for Wanda to deal with the problem, and then she returns to the businessman with the replacement drink. Wanda quietly places the cup in front of him. His dull eyes flicker to her as he tentatively takes a small sip. Grimacing, he sets his cup down and then flashes Wanda an impatient look as he says, “How many times do I have to spell it out for you? I said no water.”

Wanda’s nostrils flared. “The hot espresso would melt the ice somehow,” she snaps with a tight smile, and then she openly leers at a specific area below his waist. “Or is your brain too small to understand that’s just basic science?”

Her voice is loud and sharp enough for two other customers to hear, and for Agatha to come rushing to her side to help with the situation.

The man rises abruptly in a fury, and stretches his spine to look taller than his height.

“You’ll be hearing from me in your Yelp reviews later.” With that, he leaves, making sure to slam the door on his way out. Everyone cringes in chorus at the clashing sound of metal chimes.

Wanda tacitly apologizes to the customers bothered by the commotion, before cleaning up the table of the one who just left.

When she returns to the kitchen, Agatha studies her in concern.

“You alright, dear?” she whispers to Wanda, depositing a tray of dirty plates and utensils on the sink. Wanda works her jaw as she starts putting those in the dishwasher.

“Wanda, dear?” Agatha tries again. “Wanda.” she repeats in a hushed tone. That’s when she notices Wanda’s hands gripping the edge of the sink hard, her knuckles turn white. The brunette is shaking, breaths becoming shallower and shallower until she’s gasping uncontrollably. Agatha grabs Wanda by the shoulders and starts to lead her outside from some fresh air.

“N-No,” Wanda protests in between pants. “J-Just wait it out.” Then she falls to the floor and hugs her knees, willing for her panic attack to pass. In the background, she hears the remaining customers leave, murmuring to themselves about the “unpleasant vibe” the cafe is giving off.

Agatha is on the phone, calling Pietro.

Make it stop. Wanda thinks to herself, trying to gain control of her breathing. Please, make it stop.

An image of you appears in her head. With her eyes closed, she can see every crease, every pore, every detail of your beautiful face.

“Y/N…” she utters your name like a prayer.

Gradually, the tremors subside. Her heart rate returns to normal. Wanda feels herself reconnect to her body. The episode is over just in time for Agatha to return with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alright!” she cries, before dropping to her knees and enveloping Wanda into a stiff hug. “You scared me! I thought you were having a seizure.”

“Panic attack.” Wanda corrects her evenly. “I get them sometimes. Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Agatha rubs her shoulder soothingly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The warm feeling of comfort is what finally breaks Wanda. She covers her face with both of her hands and sobs into them.

“Oh, Wanda…” Agatha takes her back into her arms and rocks her back and forth. “What’s happening to you?”

When her crying subsides, Wanda tells Agatha everything; from the night she found you again at the club, to the short-lived friendship that ended in a misunderstanding about imaginary kids.

“Honey, don’t you think it’s unhealthy to be in-touch with your ex-wife in the first place?” Agatha says in the best way she wouldn’t sound too critical of Wanda’s predicament.

Wanda hastily brushes away the lingering tears that continue to trickle down her cheeks.

“I never wanted to be divorced from her. I never wanted us to end.” Wanda swallows back a whimper, feeling another dam within her threatening to burst at any second.

Agatha tries to sympathetically put some sense into her. “But you agreed. You signed those papers–”

“It’s what she wanted. And after what I did, I was in no position to deny her anything.”

“And what were you expecting to happen after you gave her what she wanted?

“I…” Wanda trails off, feeling like the biggest idiot now that she’s realizing how naive she’d really been for the past several weeks. So deluded into thinking that she’ll eventually worm her way back into your heart. “I don’t know.”

Divorcing didn’t feel so permanent when she agreed to it. To her, marriage was a legal binding that came with spousal benefits. Even without it, she already knew she was spending the rest of her life with you. When you divorced her, it didn’t change the fact that she was yours for good.

Agatha sighs and puts her hand on top of Wanda’s, squeezing it lightly. “You know, we’ve never really talked about our personal lives. Most probably because I was your boss.” she says with a light chuckle. “But have I told you that I never married?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Someone from the gallery mentioned it in passing. I forgot who.”

“I bet it’s Dottie. That bitch,” Agatha mumbles, glaring at the empty space in front of her. “Anyway… What was I saying?”

“You never married.”

“Ah, yes,” Agatha’s face twists into something wistful and sullen. “But it’s not because it wasn’t for me. To be honest, I love the idea of it. I guess you could say I missed the opportunity to be married.”

Dottie never delved into the reasons why Agatha stayed single all this time; likely because no one had gotten close enough to uncover the complete story.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, recognizing that Agatha is sharing this narrative as a diversion, and she feels a sense of gratitude for it.

“The love of my life wanted to marry me before I was ready. I was, oh god, eighteen? A country girl, fresh out of highschool and ready to show the world what she’s made of.”

Wanda smiles softly as she imagines a young, vivacious Agatha Harkness.

“He’s a junior police officer in our town and three years my senior,” Agatha tilts her head, the back of her head pressing against the kitchen cabinet. Wanda observes how engrossed she is in her own trip down memory lane.

“I remember it like it was yesterday. I hadn’t known he’d been planning a proposal at the festival that was going to be held the night of my graduation day,” Agatha recalls. “So, when he got down on one knee with a ring in front of everyone we knew–our friends, our family, and practically the whole town–I had wanted to be struck by lightning and just…fall dead on the spot. That would’ve been the best thing to happen that night.”

Wanda’s brows are knitted together as she asks, “What did you do?”

Agatha starts laughing–a cackling humorless sound–nothing short of unhinged if Wanda hadn’t heard it before. “I ran. I literally ran for my life.” she tells Wanda.

“He was so humiliated by my reaction, he wouldn’t see me at all. I didn’t reach out either. I don’t think we ever broke up. We just stopped talking to each other. And then my career took off and I landed in New York.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him after?”

Agatha smiles sadly at that, and says, “Oh, yes. I kept tabs on him for years. He got married to someone else the following year, just before I could muster up the courage to fix things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. And I’ve moved past it.” Agatha’s eyes are wet when they meet Wanda’s.

"So... you never got married because you've been in love with him all this time?" Wanda asks, curiosity and surprise lingering in her words.

The question sends Agatha into a fit of giggles. “Don’t be silly, Wanda. I’m not a martyr. I fell in love so many times after him.”

Wanda laughs along though self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid take.”

As the silence settles between them, Agatha proceeds, her voice softening. "There was a time when I truly believed I would never move on. I was fixated on him for years. It may sound petty, but I even started curating my social media profiles to project an image of living my best life—well, in a way—just in case he ever stumbled upon them."

She takes a breath before continuing. "But then, one day, I woke up and he didn't consume my thoughts anymore. As my heart let go of him, it also released the notion of marriage."

“Oh,” Wanda looks down at her lap, not really knowing what to make sense of it all. “Those men that came after your ex, you never saw yourself marrying any of them?”

“I already had my one, great love, Wanda. He’s the only boy I was sure I could love forever. Yes, I can fall in love with other people again and again, but I’ve come to realize that it will never measure up to what I felt for him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

"I do, actually," Wanda responds with unwavering determination. She isn't entirely certain of Agatha's intentions in sharing her story, but it only solidifies Wanda's resolve to win you back. "If I have to go to great lengths to prove myself to Y/N, then I'm prepared to do so. I won't give up without a fight."

"No, no," Agatha shakes her head, a little dismayed that her true message didn't come across as intended. "You're supposed to do the opposite. Let. Him. Go. One day, you're going to wake up, and it will all be nothing but a precious chapter in your life."

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying when you say it’s “nothing” to you. The fact that this memory has stayed with you all these years means something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you regret that you acted a little too late. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Wanda says, getting to her feet.

"I have no regrets," Agatha asserts, looking up at Wanda with staunch confidence. "And you have no right to judge me for choosing to prioritize myself over catering to his wounded ego."

"I wasn't judging you," Wanda soothes softly. "And I apologize if I'm not hearing what you want me to hear, but Y/N was open to maintaining a connection with me. And as far as I can tell, she isn't involved with anyone else yet, which means I-"

"How certain are you?" Agatha interrupts, a hint of challenge in her voice. "How certain are you that she isn't currently planning her future with someone new?"

"I just am," Wanda responds with full conviction.

“That’s not good enough, Wanda.”

“Well, unless I see her say ‘I fucking do’ to someone else at the altar, then the only option for me is her.”

Agatha drops her chin in defeat. She takes a long, deep breath before pulling herself off the ground so that she can address Wanda on eye-level.

“I can’t tell you what to do because clearly, your mind’s made up. It seems made up long before you and Y/N got yourselves into this mess.”

Wanda is quiet as she stares at the floor, not denying nor confirming anything.

Agatha's expression softens as she reaches out to lift Wanda's chin gently, making her meet her eyes. "I'm here to support you, my dear. And I genuinely wish you the best."

Wanda struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. "Agatha, I... I apologize for what I said earlier about-"

“I’m not hurt,” Agatha says, but it doesn’t make Wanda feel any less guilty. “Believe me, I’ve said and done worse things when I was in your position.”

Wanda nods solemnly. “Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Please don’t tell Pietro. He’s doing well, I think. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s been here long enough already.”

“You have my word.”

Later, after Wanda closes up shop for the day, she goes straight to your place. She loafs around a corner across your building, deliberating if she should come up to your unit and hash it out. The lights are open where your living room would be on the third floor, indicating that you’re home. But just as she makes the decision to see you, a figure of a woman approaches your window to draw the curtains.

Wanda narrows her eyes, and as she looks closely, instantly recognizing that she’s the same woman from the club. The woman you danced with, seemingly without a care in the world.

Wanda’s step falters, almost losing her balance. She lingers for a bit, gazing up helplessly at your window. As people pass by her motionless figure on the streets, their expressions turn to suspicion, their eyes drawn to the direction that has captured her attention so completely.

She pays them no attention, but when it becomes apparent that this woman wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, she decides to go home.

As Wanda catches the last train to her borough, she tries not to think about what it means.

Wanda’s never been one to reel in her jealousy; no matter the fact that she no longer has any business of feeling that way in the first place.

“Y/N?”

“Maybe it would have stopped me.”

Your mind keeps rewinding the same scene from a week ago. Over and over again, you see green eyes, large and imploring.

“Y/N.”

Maybe it would have stopped me.

You see Wanda standing by the doorway, terrified and confused. It’s haunting in a way that you kind of wished you didn’t agree to this friendship thing in the first place.

“Y/N!”

Yelena's voice calling your name startles you, snapping you back to the present moment. You blink and refocus your attention on her. "Sorry, what's up?"

Yelena had arrived unexpectedly an hour ago, holding a bag of Shake Shack takeout and mentioning something about being in the area for an event. It hadn't occurred to you that you hadn't been in contact since the night you shared a kiss at her doorstep. In fairness, she hadn't reached out to you either.

She had set up the food spread of burgers and fries on the table in front of the TV while you searched for a horror movie that neither of you had seen. However, in the midst of dinner, she had to take an important work call, and your thoughts immediately drifted back to the events of the previous week, those green eyes that were dark pools of fear and rejection.

Yelena bites her lip, finally noticing the disconnect and distance you've been exhibiting.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks.

You tilt your head at her curiously. “Talk about what?”

Yelena rubs her temples as her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Oh my god, you can be such an asshole sometimes.”

As you grab Yelena's hand, a surge of determination courses through you, preventing her from fully retreating. "Lena," you say, using her childhood nickname, a name that holds a special significance between the two of you.

It's a subtle way of easing the tension that has filled the room. With a mix of relief and vulnerability, Yelena allows herself to be pulled back towards the couch, and she plops back down beside you.

“Look, I know I didn’t call you either after we… after that night. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to figure things out with you.” she says.

You sigh, letting go of her hand. “Frankly, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about this,” Yelena proposes. “I’ll start with a question and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“You’ve thought this through.” you say.

“I have.”

“Alright.”

Yelena nods. “Here it goes,” she blows out her cheeks. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I–”

“I don’t need a quick answer,” Yelena interrupts. “I need an honest one.”

The truth is, from the moment it happened until Wanda showed up the following day, it consumed your thoughts entirely. You recall lying awake in bed, unable to shake the desire to experience it again—the softness of Yelena's lips, the subtle differences in her kisses compared to those you had shared before.

You kissed her simply because it was unthinkable to do anything otherwise in that moment.

You give her this answer, and Yelena’s expression remains eerily neutral. Not that you were expecting some kind of reaction, but still–

“So if it had gone beyond a kiss, you’re saying you just wanted to hook up?”

You shake your head at her incredulously. “Not at all!”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to have sex with me at all…”

“I do! I mean–of course I’m attracted to you. But I didn’t kiss you just because I wanted to sleep with someone,” you say, feeling a pressure at the back of your neck. “I kissed you because I just… wanted to kiss you.” you wince at hearing yourself repeat the same thing like a broken record.

Yelena studies you for a moment, before she says, “Does that mean anything?”

“It means being close to you like that brought a decade-old feeling to the surface.” you reply, the volume of your voice considerably fading towards the end of your sentence.

Yelena plays with the necklace around her neck. “Yeah? What sort of feelings?”

You prop your chin on one hand. All things considered, what you once had with Yelena had every potential to be one of your greatest loves. But you don’t want to mistake love with feelings of nostalgia.

“You don’t have to answer that one,” Yelena says after a long, heavy moment. “Actually, I’d prefer it if you don’t. I’ve been thinking a lot this past week. About the possibility of us. About you, as a person… about me, as a person. And we’ve… changed. I just didn’t realize it before because you feel like home to me. I think no matter how long or far we’re apart, I’ll always feel that way about you.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft smile. “Your presence in my life has been nothing but comforting. Safe. Like I can always be me, even at my worst.”

“But it’s not enough for me, Y/N. I never thought the window would open again when Nat told me you got married. So, I’ll be damned if I miss my chance again.”

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we give this a real chance," she says.

"I... I don't think I'm ready," you hesitate.

Yelena can't help but let a smirk creep onto her lips. "Says the girl who kissed me."

You blush at that, wishing you carried the same courage you had that night at this very moment.

When you fail to respond, Yelena prods you with a question.

“You’re not ready or you’re scared you’d hurt me?” she asks.

With love, you have always been ready. It has always been a natural and instinctive part of your being. You embraced love in all its complexities; with its joys and sorrows, without fear or reservation. But now, you cower in the shadow of betrayal–as if it was love itself that betrayed you, rather than Wanda.

“I’m scared I’d hurt you,” you choke out, barely able to contain the tremor in your voice. “... And I’m scared to be hurt again.”

Yelena’s heart breaks at your words. “Come here.” she whispers.

She doesn’t really wait for you to act. Before you know it, Yelena has closed the distance to encircle her arms around your waist and pull you into a tight embrace. You hug her back and bury your face into her neck. It’s only when you feel Yelena’s soaked shirt against your cheek, that you realize you’ve been crying.

You remain intertwined in each other's arms for a while, finding solace in the connection you share, until Yelena’s phone rings and it’s Kate urgently asking her to work with her on a story that’s about to erupt. Understanding the importance of her work, you reluctantly send her off, promising to continue the conversation at a later time.

Just as Yelena is about to leave, she suddenly pauses and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a brief yet intense kiss. The passion and longing in that moment leave you breathless. Before parting, she whispers, "Something more for you to think about. Now, we're even."

With those words lingering in the air, she releases your bottom lip with a wet sound and leaves you with a swirl of emotions and thoughts to ponder.

That same night, on the rooftop of her apartment building, Wanda sits alone, surrounded by the night sky and the faint smell of tobacco after doubling her dosage of tranquilizers again.

The half-empty pack of cigarettes lies beside her, a testament to her struggle to cope with the turmoil in her heart. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, feeling the burn in her lungs, and exhales a cloud of smoke into the air. Beside the pack of cigarettes, a bottle of tequila rosé stands, its contents diminishing with every sip Wanda takes.

Wanda's mind drifts back to her college days, remembering how smoking was once a non-negotiable deal-breaker for you. She had forced herself to quit back then, eager to align herself with your preferences and expectations. But now, in this moment of heartache and confusion, she finds herself returning to this old habit, seeking comfort and familiarity in the act of lighting a cigarette.

She recalls the day you moved out of your home in Westview, the day her world began to unravel. It was then that she picked up smoking again, a way to cope with the pain of your absence. And even when she found you again, she attempted to quit for the second time, hoping to present a version of herself again that you would approve of.

But tonight, with her heart heavy and her emotions overwhelming, Wanda allows herself to surrender to the temptation of smoking. Each inhale brings a momentary respite from her thoughts, even if it comes at the cost of her health and well-being. She remembers how you used to despise the smell of tobacco on her breath, how you would express your concern about the impact it had on her life expectancy.

“As much as eleven minutes per stick.” You had told her so many times, back when you were just friends.

Yet in this moment, Wanda finds solace in the cigarettes, even if it's just for those fleeting minutes that they shorten her life. It's a small act of rebellion, a way to reclaim a fragment of control in the uncertainty of it all.

“Ever wonder who will die first in our old age?” Wanda asks you one night after a particularly intense make-up sex. Lying in bed, you’re exhausted and seconds away from sleep, while Wanda’s energy hasn’t dissipated at all–rather, it increased even more after two orgasms.

You’ve been married for two years, and fought over a random encounter with Carol; a fellow NYU who was crazy about you for the entirety of your sophomore year. The aforementioned encounter was an annual work meeting with your company’s outside partners, and it led to Carol asking you to catch up over coffee after work.

“I hope it’s me.” you say, snuggling close to Wanda’s side. Tenderly, you place an arm over her exposed abdomen and affectionately squeeze a small fold on her belly.

“Can’t be you. I used to smoke three to four cigarettes a day for years before you made me quit.” Wanda says, laughing a little when you accidentally pinch a ticklish spot.

“For the record, I didn’t make you quit.”

“Fine,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “But going back to the topic: I think it’s going to be me.”

You’re quiet for a long period with Wanda thinking you’ve already fallen asleep, when you say, “I just did the math. As far as I know, you were a smoker for seven years, so that would amount to… about 10,200 cigarettes. Or 2.5 months lost.”

Wanda looks down at you in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Your smile is mysterious as you close your eyes using Wanda’s breast as your pillow.

“Don’t you dare start smoking now.” Wanda threatens softly, but you hear the fear in her voice anyway.

She feels your smile widen against her damp skin as you repeat, “I hope it’s me.”

Wanda takes a satisfying puff from her last stick and wonders what’s one more thing for you to hate about her.

Love is watching someone die. She heard that from a song that seems like a lifetime ago. Yet, she never truly understood its implications, given the typically grim connotations associated with death.

It was not until she revisited that casual conversation with you that she grasped the profound reality: by choosing to spend the rest of her life with you, she had essentially volunteered to bear witness to your eventual passing. Death, an inescapable and inevitable anguish, is a burden one willingly embraces solely out of genuine love for another.

Wanda shuts her eyes, recognizing the pressing need to halt her mind's meandering towards these thoughts, or she’ll never stop grieving.

The cigarette's smoldering remnants fall from her lips as Wanda crushes it beneath her heel. She turns her attention to the bottle of rosé, swiftly uncapping it and taking a lengthy swig. No, she is not harboring suicidal thoughts. However, she remains unfazed by the potential perils arising from the harmful combination of her vices.

It’s almost midnight and you have only just been half-unconscious in your bed, when your phone rings for what feels like forever.

An unknown, overseas number appears on your vibrating screen and you stare at it for while before answering.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Natasha’s raspy voice comes through. The line is murky, and you can hear a foreign language being spoken in the background. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

You sit up on your bed, waking up quickly from your shallow sleep. “Where are you calling from?”

“Somewhere in Asia.”

“Oh, I thought you’re in–”

“No. The mission took me here a day ago. Listen, I only have about five minutes.” Natasha says, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone.

You sit up straight on the bed, the last vestiges of sleep leaving your senses. “I’m listening.”

“Yelena and I talked some five minutes ago,” Natasha starts and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You hear a deep sigh coming from the other end–can feel Natasha’s apparent hesitation. But then–

“She didn’t exactly say that she’s still in love with you, but… But that’s how it sounded to me. And then she basically told me to fuck off and not act like an ‘overprotective asshole’–her words not mine.”

“We kissed.” The confession frees itself before you can stop it.

“She did not disclose that detail.” Natasha says through gritted teeth from what you can hear.

“I should’ve told you but I don’t really know how to reach you, so–”

“I get it. I’m not mad,” Natasha says. “Not saying I’m okay with it either. Actually, I’m being ridiculous because you’re both adults.”

Growing up as an only child, you think it’s endearing how zealous she can be when it comes to looking out for Yelena. It’s something you’ll never dismiss as absurd in any way, especially since both were adopted and shortly abandoned by their parents before Natasha turned thirteen. Apart from you, Yelena is Natasha’s only family. And you hate being the cause of conflict between the two.

“I just need to know one thing. Do you still love her?” Natasha asks.

It’s instantly obvious that there’s a right and wrong answer to this. At the same time, you hear someone frantically knock on your door.

“Wait, Nat,” you mutter distractedly, putting on a pair of shorts. “There’s someone at the door.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Natasha mumbles. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“Wait a sec,” you say. The knocking remains persistent and demanding. You yell out, “Who is it?” as you pad towards the door.

You don’t concern yourself with waiting for an answer. You hurriedly work the locks of the apartment and a certain brunette comes tumbling forwards the moment the door swings open.

“Wanda?”

She’s wearing a mustard cardigan with liquid stains on the chest. And beneath the cardigan, a pair of pajamas that doesn’t match. From the looks of her, this visit was planned on a whim.

For a while, you forget that your best friend is still on the call, until you hear Natasha say, “Yes, Wanda. Who else?”

“I… I’ll have to call you back.” you say to Natasha and simultaneously end the call before she can even protest.

“Is she still here?” Wanda slurs and then lets out a small hiccup that you’d normally find adorable, except that you’re not supposed to feel that way towards her in light of being no longer married.

And also the fact that there’s nothing adorable about seeing her so plastered to the point of being unable to focus her eyes on anything for longer than a second.

“Who?” you feign ignorance, clueless as to how Wanda knew Yelena was at your apartment.

As Wanda tries to approach you, her intoxicated state causes her to stumble, requiring you to swiftly grasp her by the waist to prevent her from falling. She lets out a laugh, but it rings hollow.

“You smell like baby powder.” Wanda comments quietly, her nose bumping the side of your neck. The contact sends a shiver cascading down your spine, awakening sensations you'd prefer to suppress, especially when it concerns Wanda. Feeling how dangerous having Wanda this close is, you gently push at her shoulders. Wanda relents with little resistance and when she looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, asks the same question, “Is she still here?”

You decide to answer her truthfully this time. “She went home.”

Wanda nods in understanding and you watch her eyes fall shut, a solitary tear escaping her closed lids.

“Okay,” she whispers solemnly, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Thank you, that’s… All I… yeah.”

You rub your hands over your face in a feeble attempt to wake yourself up in case you’re dreaming, but before you can reckon what to do next, Wanda’s already turning on her wobbly legs towards the elevator.

“Wanda, wait–” You reach out to tug at her wrist, and the slight force from it whirls her back around. She faces you with her eyes still closed, but her quivering lashes are brimming with more tears that are so close to spill.

When Wanda does open her eyes, they do spill. And it takes everything in you not to pull her into a hug and just make it all go away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Wanda sniffs, brushing at her face but it’s no use–it’s like a dam has burst and it’s apparent that the steady stream flowing through her cheeks isn't letting up soon. “I don’t know why–I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Drunk Wanda never cried, particularly not on account of you. She was, at best, silly and clumsy–tripping over things and waking up to minor injuries she doesn’t remember getting.

Instead of replying, you lead her inside and Wanda dutifully allows herself to be led. She curls into herself on the couch, feet tucked under her.

“I’ll go get you some water.” you say, padding towards the kitchen. It’s only when you’re sure Wanda can’t hear you that you release the breath you’ve been holding since her arrival.

A clean slate is what you yearn for, what seems rational in your current circumstances. The logical part of your mind insists on starting anew, devoid of bitterness, guilt, and the weight of unanswered questions. Free from the presence of Wanda Maximoff, who acts as the catalyst for all those emotions.

But wanting to want something and actually wanting something are two entirely different things.

The question lingers.

Do you still love her? At first it’s Natasha’s face you imagine while the question is being asked. And then she morphs into Yelena, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight just right before you had kissed her.

And then, it’s you. Do I still love her?

Would you have kept her at arm’s length if you knew the answer to this?

Just as you find yourself confronting the inevitability of needing an answer, you feel lithe arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tightly against a body that would never not be familiar to you.

You tense automatically, but can’t find the will to step out of her embrace. It’s an understatement to say that Wanda Maximoff is your weakness. Without the raw and immediate feelings of anger and betrayal, without the sickening rush of having blood on your hands, and without the concrete reminders of how she threw away a decade worth of love and trust for a fling she claimed wasn’t even that important to her, is just–

It’s the kind of weakness that could annihilate all sense and reason; that could forgive the unforgivable, forget the unforgettable, even learn what has been unlearned.

It’s a weakness that scares you if Wanda wields it to her favor. You’ve appreciated how she was very conscious of giving you as much space as you need for the past few weeks. You noticed how much she held back every time you were together. But right now, at her current state, you don’t know what Wanda would do. And she probably doesn’t know as well how much power she has in her hands despite her susceptibility to seeing you with another woman.

“Remember when we talked about who’s probably going to die first when we’re old and don't have many years left in us?” you feel more than hear Wanda murmur against your shoulder, hating the way you slacken in her hold.

In that moment, memories flood your mind, and although you recall vividly, you opt to remain still and silent.

“I hope it’s me,” Wanda whispers, echoing the exact words you had said to her that night. “I don’t ever want to go through the pain of watching you slip away again.”

Your heart crashes to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces that would never be a hundred percent whole again.

“Wands,” you say breathlessly, then as you turn to face her, a cold hand softly cups your cheek and before you know it, she’s kissing you.

A fresh wave of tears sting at Wanda’s eyes because she can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. She’s hot all over and feeling the onset of a migraine from the alcohol and the pills, but they don’t diminish the pleasure of being surrounded by your smell and the feel of your unmoving lips.

As for you, all you could taste was the combination of bad choices she made just a while ago.

Regrettably, the fleeting moment ends sooner than Wanda desired, as you firmly grasp her shoulders with both hands and apply enough force to cause her to stagger momentarily before regaining her balance.

You barely managed to hang on to what’s left of your control.

“Please, stop,” you don’t mean for it to come out as vulnerable as it sounds, but it’s hard to keep the firmness in your voice when Wanda’s looking at you like that.

“I love you,” Wanda insists so brokenly, she almost delivers it with a whine.

“I love you, Y/N.” she repeats, as if there’s a threshold for the number of times she has to say it until you believe her–which, still, you don’t.

“It’s just the alcohol and maybe nostalgia talking.” you say.

“You’re wrong. I love you. I want you.”

It’s pointless and childish to argue with a drunk person, but you can’t help but seethe in Wanda’s unwavering belief in her own lies.

You take a couple of calculated steps towards her until you’ve effectively backed her against the fridge.

“You know what I think?” you say menacingly, and it appeases you to see how she slightly trembles beneath your gaze. “I think you just want to fuck me. And it’s driving you crazy because you don’t own me anymore.”

You say it because it’s something you’ve been wondering about for a while now. It’s difficult for you to tell what she’s after–what she gets out of coming after you and wrecking herself like this in the process. You’re aware of Wanda’s tunnel vision when it comes to getting what she wants–specifically ones that don’t come easy–and you’ve seen it firsthand numerous times over the years. She never backs down from a challenge.

You can’t help but think–is that what this is? A challenge to win back what she had so carelessly tossed aside?

Wanda, on the other hand, is far incapable of digesting your words properly. And yet, it just becomes clear to her how deep your resentment really goes.

“That’s perhaps the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she whispers.

You shake your head, backing away. It’s not quite as biting as you intend it to be when you say, “Oh? Well, it doesn’t compare to the ugliest thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Tense silence stretches out between the two of you, with only the sound of your breaths and your pounding hearts filling the void. By this time, Wanda’s eyes are dry. All that’s left are tear tracks that run through the edges of her jaw. She looks diminished and soulless, and somehow, it’s a worse sight.

Wanda promptly hisses at the sharp pain that pulses on one side of her head, her fingers coming up to her temples to massage them.

Your shoulders slump, feeling exhausted–physically and mentally–all of a sudden.

“Wanda–” you start, her well-being taking priority over your pique. “Please just lie down on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.”

“I think I’m gonna go.” she says, even as she struggles to walk in a straight line.

“You’re drunk and you’re staying here. This is not a negotiation.”

A beat of silence, and then managing a scoff, she says, “Fine.”

Proceeding into Natasha's bedroom, you retrieve a pillow and a thin comforter, uncertain of where she keeps the actual spare bedding for guests. Returning to the living room, you find Wanda lying on her stomach, already in a deep slumber on the couch. Her face is turned away, mouth slightly open, accompanied by gentle snores. Glancing at the kitchen, you notice the untouched glass of water you had prepared for her. There’s no doubt the headache that awaits her when she wakes up. With utmost care, you drape the comforter over her body, ensuring her bare feet are covered, and place the pillow beneath her outstretched arm.

Creating an ambiance of dimness, you switch off all the lights, allowing only the moon's gentle glow and the radiant lights of the ever-awake city to seep through the window. Your gaze lingers on the shadowed outline of your ex-wife's peaceful form for a few fleeting moments before you withdraw to your own bedroom.

With the reassurance of Wanda being safe and sound in such close proximity, you swiftly succumb to a deep, dreamless slumber.

It’s still dark outside when you stir awake, with the sun peeking just outside the horizon. Last night’s sequence of events return to you in deliberate fragments, and you immediately get up and walk over the living room.

No sign of Wanda.

The blanket you gave her is neatly folded on the armrest together with Natasha’s pillow. Circling the couch, you spot her cardigan discarded on the floor. She must have ridden herself of it, somewhere during the night.

Bending down to pick up the article of clothing, and you’re unprepared for the smell of Wanda that wafts to your nose.

You’ve said some things. Appaling things. Reflecting on what was said, you're overcome with remorse, realizing the depth of the vilification you subjected her to.

You wouldn’t have loved her for so long if she was horrible enough to harbor such ill intentions.

Maybe the least you could do is put her cardigan in the laundry. Returning it to her in a fresh and clean state would be a small gesture of consideration and apology.

A throbbing pain is what woke Wanda about an hour before sunrise. Dread overcame her right when she opened her eyes to the familiar gray of your flat. She can’t recall much of what happened last night; only an inkling that she fucked up every step of the way following the moment she showed up at your door. Deeply ashamed of barging in and probably forcing you to shelter her for a night, Wanda left your building in a hurry. On top of the humiliation, she’s also already late for her cafe’s pre-opening ceremonies.

It’s an unusually busy Tuesday, and she failed to get Pietro to come over and lend a helping hand. People are growing agitated by the slow service, ignoring the obvious reason that their server is wearing all the hats today–cashier, barista, waitress and maintenance. She’s tending to the cafe alone, except for Sparky–and she can’t really ask a dog to serve food and drinks… or can she?

Though if there’s one thing Wanda Maximoff is, it’s that she’s a professional multitasker.

“Can I follow up on that upside down mocha latte, miss?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll be right with you.”

“This needs more sugar.”

“We have packets of sugar, sugar-replacement, creamer, cinnamon and so much more over that corner.”

“Excuse me, how much for two dozens of matcha peanut butter cookies? And do you take advance orders?”

“That’s, uh, you know what let me check. And yes we do take advance orders and provide catering services.”

“Your dog is licking the spilled coffee on the floor, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, shit–Sparky, get away from that!” Wanda temporarily sets her tray down on the table of one of her customers to get a mop.

“Miss, I think you swapped my order with–”

She’s not going to freak out. There’s no way she’s going to freak out.

Wanda’s on her way to cleaning up the spill when someone jerks the mop out of her grip.

“I’ll take care of it,” Vision mumbles without looking directly at Wanda. “You should attend to that asshole by the window. I think he’s about to lose it.”

Wanda’s at a loss for words, conflicted between carrying on with her duties and thinking whether or not she should confront her former student about why he’s here. In the end, she really has no choice but to charge through the pending orders and appease the snappy customers or else she risks losing this business.

Little by little, the demands die down. And then finally, Wanda’s left to deal with Vision who’s seated near the back room, hunched over Sparky while her dog laps at his bony fingers.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Wanda says as she approaches his table.

Vision jolts upright and she uses the opportunity to take a proper look at him. He looks a great deal better than the last time they saw each other. Wanda’s sincerely happy for him. Still, he cannot be here.

“Thank you for helping earlier, but I believe it’s best if you leave now.” Wanda asserts, her irritation palpable.

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything,” Vision says, unfazed by Wanda’s animosity. “I didn’t know you work here.”

Wanda snorts in amusement. “I don’t simply work here. I own this place.”

Vision looks embarrassed for making the wrong assumption. “Sorry, I… Congratulations, Wanda. This is truly remarkable..”

“Thanks,” she says, and then gestures at the door. “Now could you please…?”

“Can’t I at least order a coffee to-go?” Vision interjects.

“Fair enough,” Wanda concedes.

“What would you recommend?” he asks, studying the menu with rapt concentration.

“Our bestseller is the Spanish latte.”

“Got anything Keto?”

Wanda casts him a dumbfounded look. But Vision seems serious with his request. The pieces of their affair now seem like a perplexing puzzle; and now she’s exploring the possibility that their affair could have been her having a mental break. Not for the first time she wonders, what the fuck was I thinking?

“Fine. Would you like it hot or cold? Medium or large?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, iced. Large.” he says.

Wanda works the register. “Large iced americano with two shots of heavy cream and a Splenda, coming right up.”

Vision pays for his drink and thanks her. He waits by the counter as Wanda prepares his coffee.

The bells-like sound of the door chime rings, and Wanda mechanically welcomes the newcomer without looking up.

“Hi,” you say, not noticing Vision at all. It’s Sparky who greets you, excitedly wagging his tail as he sniffs you all over.

Wanda flinches at the sound of your voice. Her eyes widen in panic, and they dart erratically from you to Vision, and then you again. It’s only when you absorb the horrified look on Wanda’s face that you catch sight of a taller figure from the corner of your eyes.

"You..." The word escapes your lips, unintentionally carrying a tinge of disdain. It's the first time you witness Wanda and Vision in the same room, and a rush of emotions floods over you, resurfacing all the pain you have been attempting to overcome during the past several months.

A flurry of questions swirls within your mind, leaving you feeling overwhelmed. Didn’t Natasha say he doesn’t remember? Or has he been aware of everything all along? And what about Wanda? Was she seeing Vision behind your back throughout this entire time? The uncertainty and confusion gnaw at your thoughts, leaving you grappling for answers.

Your first realization is this: no–you have not forgiven them. And if they’re fucking or trying a relationship with each other, you won’t find it in yourself to be genuinely happy for them.

The second thing is that you’ve been fooled once again; she had you believing that she regretted ever throwing away what you two had to fuck this kid.

All this time, they were continuing where they left off. You don’t care why it bothers you so much–it just does and it makes you livid.

Vision cowers at the sight of you. It confirms your suspicions–he does remember. You watch him carefully as he mumbles a shaky goodbye to Wanda before rushing towards the exit, not caring at all about the drink he had ordered and already paid for. You don’t try to step out of his way, holding your ground as an act of intimidation.

Neither you nor Wanda move an inch as Vision takes his leave.

"Y/N," she breathes, desperately attempting to convey that things are not as they may appear. “It’s not what you think.”

You scrunch up Wanda’s cardigan tightly in your hand before tossing it to the floor. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.” you say in a low whisper.

A few nosy customers observe you with intrigue, murmuring to themselves and pretending to be busy with their phones. It makes your mouth twist in a nearly lunatic grin.

Just before you leave the cafe, you make sure that Wanda’s looking you right in the eye as you say, “I never want to see your lying face ever again.”

The finality of your words, coupled with the piercing intensity of your gaze, knocks the wind out of her.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams out your name desperately, throwing caution to the wind. She quickly unties her apron and dashes outside to run after you.

Frantically scouring the nearby alleyways, her search proves fruitless as you have already disappeared, leaving her to confront the empty streets alone.

Wanda tries several ways to reach you. First, she tries calling you from her number, but she discovers you still have her blocked. Next, she asks Agatha to call you, but you refuse to pick up, until your phone becomes unreachable altogether. Whether it’s the reception or your phone being turned off, it’s clear that any effort to get a hold of you through a call is moot.

Pietro eventually accedes to Wanda’s begging and covers the final two hours of her shift. She has to lie to him with a fake emergency, which was very upsetting for her to do considering how passionately you called her a liar just earlier. She goes straight to your place when she’s free of her responsibilities. Her frustration fuels her actions as she pounds on your door with an intensity, demanding that you give her the opportunity to explain herself.

She keeps at it for some time, until the security comes up to your floor to inform her that you haven’t returned all day.

Out of options, Wanda goes home, defeated. More than her yearning to give you an explanation, she worries about where you could have gone to. She’s not a religious person, but when it comes to your safety, she prays to every god there is for you to be okay.

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door.

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers.

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over Queens.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the smell of beer that welcomes her first.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other.

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?”

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned.

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room.

There’s nothing gentle in the way you pull down her shorts to her ankles, and lift her shirt just enough to expose her tits.

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth.

And Wanda loves it.

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be.

The throbbing in her clit matches the rhythm of her heartbeat, as you continue to tongue her nipple in broad laps. It’s visually lewd enough for her to avert her eyes in embarrassment, but suddenly, you grip her jaw and force her to look at what you’re doing to her, pausing just long enough to say, “Don’t you fucking look away.” before turning your attention to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Wanda feels her wetness soak the rug below her ass, and all the blood rushes to her core, already begging for release.

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her.

Wanda's fingers tentatively approach the button of your jeans, but you swiftly swat them aside. Instead, you seize her hands, lifting them above her head and securing her wrists together.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. And now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects.

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers.

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

But it’s like you can't hear her, seemingly entranced by your own fingers going in and out of your ex-wife’s cunt. The pleasure eventually overtakes the pain, and Wanda doesn’t have anything to hold onto as the heel of your palm grinds against her nub in a slow, circling motion.

Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing.

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She writhes uncontrollably beneath you, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure, attempting to halt the motion of your fingers by pressing her knees against your lower body. But you keep her where she is, with her legs wide apart. You angle your hand a certain way, so you’re pummeling the spongy area inside of her every time you push inside.

“Kiss me, please,” Wanda whispers shakily against your sweaty forehead. Ignoring her plea, you lick into her ear instead, and then curl your fingers the only way you know how, propelling her over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions.

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know.” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner?

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for.

Lies after lies, you think bitterly.

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again.” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most.

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen

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robinwinged · 5 months

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escapism in "the boy and the heron"

Interrupting my regularly scheduled programming of Good Omens brainrot for this attempt to process the wonderful, fantastical, and distinctly discombobulating experience of watching Hayao Miyazaki’s “The Boy and the Heron.”

Miyazaki’s films, at least to me, have never been straightforward to follow. Spirited Away, for example, is a beautiful masterpiece whose meaning is difficult to decipher on a first watch, and is only fully unveiled when you dive headfirst into research of Japan’s context and the movie’s many symbolic themes. The Boy and the Heron takes this typical Miyazaki complexity and ineffability and turns it up to eleven. There are so many elements that seem random, so many narrative arcs and characters all warring for attention (what is the tower? why are the parakeets so goddamn bloodthirsty? why is the blue heron such a creepy old man?), that combine to create a whimsical but overall also very strange landscape.

I know that art in general does not have to have “meaning” or “a message” to be deserving of our love and attention. Art can be touching, affecting, disturbing, provoking - any number of things that would give it credit - and damn it if The Boy and the Heron isn’t all of these combined. But.

But.

This is also a Miyazaki movie, and he has proven once and time again why he is the master of hidden meaning, and so here, in no particular order, are my half-formed rambles on what I have personally think each movie detail that I struggled to puzzle out initially is about.

(spoilers below, so proceed with caution!)

The tower, time, and escapism

The tower is the central mystery point of the movie - a literal mystical rock that crashed down from the heavens and later lured Mahito’s grand-grand uncle (let’s call him the Tower Master for convenience’s sake) into its depths. Within the tower is a mirage world filled with magic but no real living beings, controlled by the whims of the Tower Master and nothing else that remotely resembles logic or reality. The tower also contains a series of doors that seem to lead to different points in time, if the ending is to go by and how the 13 blocks are meant to be pieces of worlds the Tower Master has visited. So what is this strange and fantastic realm, and what role does it play in the overarching narrative?

My hypothesis is that the Tower is a pocket free from the influence of time (think like the TVA in Loki) - a separate island running parallel to the fabric of the universe that contains portals to different points of past, present, and future. By itself, the pocket has no life or substance; it must be filled by the imagination - pure imagination, untethered to reality - of its main (human) inhabitant. This is why most of the ships are illusions rather than real objects, why the parakeets are so ridiculously odd and behave nothing like real

birds, why the fish is the size of Kiriko’s damn ship. Anything that is real, has to be brought in from the real world (see: the pelicans, Himi, and Kiriko). This is also why the parakeet king immediately topples the tower: yes, he is not the Tower Master’s descendant, but he is also not inherently a real sentient being, and an imaginary object cannot in itself sustain a further imagination.

So why does the Tower Master choose to sequester himself in this alternate space, where he can only exist alone with his own mysterious creations? I think the Tower Master represents those of us who wish to escape from reality, to inhabit worlds which we can control, where pain doesn’t have to touch us if we don’t wish for it (whether I’m projecting reallyyyyy hard at this point does not matter ok). He is an insanely avid reader, with books literally piled in small mountains throughout his living quarters, and don’t we readers (i.e me, again) always wish for escapism? The Tower Master, then, is an example of those who would rather become entrapped in our own minds rather than deal with the world beyond us - maybe, even in a way, a little like Miyazaki himself, whose imagination is so powerful but is also extremely singular and all-consuming, anchoring him to his creative work without reprieve of retirement until his reserves run dry (not to imply that the man is a hermit or that I want him to retire, quite the opposite in fact, but parallels, no matter how shaky, can still be drawn).

This, too, explains why the Tower Master needs Mahito to control the world for him. It is not because he’s grown old, since he cannot be affected by time in the Tower, but it is because his imagination is stagnating - he is no longer capable of finding new ways to balance the tower, he cannot sustain the fantasy any longer. In itself, this can already serve as a message from Miyazaki - we cannot hope to live only within the confines of our minds if we do not interact at all with the real world, because then at some point we will run out of material, of lived experiences to build on top of, and threaten to crumble the fragile imaginary world we have created.

Himi and her fire powers

Himi is a strange hiccup in the system - a rare occurrence of a living person in this fantasy playland that wasn’t brought into it during Mahito’s own entrance, like Kiriko. This theory is a little bit out there, I can totally appreciate that myself, but remember that one year in which Mahiko disappeared from the real world and then came back completely unchanged? I think she chose to stay there for much longer than a year, knowing that time didn’t work the same in this pocket world and she always had the chance to return to her original timeline through the handy door-portals. I think Himi has stayed there essentially until she met Mahito - so long that she actually grew into a part of the fantasy, developing impossible pyrokinetic powers and becoming a set part of the landscape in exchange for extended youth. But this stay didn’t come without consequences. In the real world, Mahiko passes away in a fire, at a younger age than would be expected. Perhaps this, in itself, is a punishment for cheating time - the universe reclaiming the years that Himi spent in the Tower. It’s also definitely not a coincidence that Himi can control fire in the Tower, and dies by fire in the real world; a form of lethal poetic justice, if you will. Seeing Mahito was the trigger for Himi to leave, to embrace her own destiny, because she could now see and be proud of the outcomes of her life and not have regrets about missing out on the life passing her by. (This interpretation would then necessarily imply a deterministic version of life and time, so it’s probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it makes sense in this version because you see doors way farther down than the present which Mahito steps into.)

The starving pelicans

The pelicans are another anomaly because they, too, are not figments of the Tower Master’s imagination, but instead have been brought into this fantasy world, for one reason or another, likely against their will. And this is where the Tower Master’s escape from reality cracks and burns at the foundation - he creates harm rather than good when he brings in the pelicans, because he does not account for the fact that they cannot exist without a source of food, and they then are forced to eat the Warawara to survive. The movie states that the Warawara are like baby souls, who ascend to become new lives, but I think it’s a little more metaphorical than literal rebirth. For me the Warawara are metaphorical ideas or seedlings of inspiration, the only parts of the Tower Master’s creations which aren’t fully formed, but allowed to grow by themselves and escape into the world - like passing the spark of creation to others outside the Tower. And the pelicans, involuntary prisoners of the Tower Master’s fantasy world, must prey on the Warawara before they have the chance to become real. This can be seen (if you squint real hard and do some violent spins so your vision is hella blurry) as the beginning of the end of the Tower Master’s reign - the forceful inclusion of other sentient beings inside his imagination doesn’t help him enrich his internal realm, but rather snuffs out the genuine inspiration that he could be passing onto others, creating pain where the Tower Master hoped to be spared from it.

Mahito’s rejection of the Tower

So with this central “Tower as escapism” theory, what does Mahito’s rejection to take over for the Tower Master mean? There is a moment that was so subtly powerful in that final exchange between the two, when Mahito stops denying the truth by telling everyone that he got his scar from falling, and instead admits that self-harm was the actual cause. At the beginning of the movie, I viewed that moment of very painful self-harm as Mahito’s wish to withdraw from the challenges of life - to live in isolation away from the grief over losing his mother, the challenges of being the rich new kid in town, the overwhelming discomfort of seeing his father shack up with his aunt. His reality is agonizing for him, and the fantasy land is so beautiful in its strange way that it could become a safe haven away from his trauma. But when Mahito says “no”, he is choosing reality; he is choosing to do the hard work, to face all the hardships life can throw at him, because he feels finally strong enough to not need to use imagination as an escapist crutch. In those final moments, Mahito is choosing to live in a world that he cannot control, because no matter how tough things get, he doesn’t have to do it alone - and that’s what I think Miyazaki is telling us too.

Of course, the movie also deals with themes of class conflict and war profiteering; grief and acceptance; continuing your ancestors’ legacies versus paving your own path, which many have already discussed and I don’t particularly have anything new to add to. Regardless, these themes are masterfully woven into the plot, as per usual, and serve to elevate the movie’s emotional impact into something heart-twisting and truly unforgettable.

Alright, ramble over - back to fandom lurking!

#the boy and the heron #studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #the boy and the heron spoilers #robin rambles #the kind of movie that makes you think #or perhaps overthink??#the boy and the heron meta

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astralexpressarchives · 7 months

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The Renheng Iceberg Explained

Alright so there's this renheng iceberg on twitter that I was recently informed about. I'm wayyy too deep into the lore so I skipped to the bottom and everything there was stuff I was already more than familiar with.

So I figured why not put all this information to some use and make a post explaining the more obscure items on the iceberg and leaving out the self-explanatory ones, doing my best to reference as well as possible.

Blade gazing at Imbibitor Lunae statue

This was a hidden interaction where you could find Blade standing near the statue of Imbibitor Lunae at the scalegorge after revealing Dan Heng's vidyadhara form. He says he is 'mourning for folly' and asks you if Dan Heng is happy. You can watch a video about this here.

Good friends who are bad for each other

This is Kafka's description of what she knows about Blade and Dan Heng's history in her companion quest. This answer is a "truth" in her game of truth and lies.

"Apparently, they used to be good friends... Well, good friends who were bad for each other. Bladie forgot nearly everything, so he doesn't remember well. Together, they did something bad — something terrible. It led to horrific consequences. That's the information I managed to piece together. Bladie refused to tell me the details."

Dan Heng gets nightmares about blade

We see this in-game in the cinematic leading up to the Xianzhou questline. This is also suggested in the Only Silence Remains lightcone description.

Matching Jade Ornaments

Referring to this idea.

There is also a vidyadhara egg that says:

"You edge closer to the pearlescent shell and have a dream in which you are a Pearlkeeper who rides the waves, and travels across the ancient sea with your true love. The time you have spent with your lover is full of happiness, but the time of hatching rebirth is determined by destiny. You secretly put a jade pendant in your mouth so your lover can recognize each other in the next life."

And considering that DH:IL 4 story has him refusing to speak during the entirety of his interrogation, death sentence, and final verdict, it definitely leaves room for imagination.

Bracer Lore

This one encompasses a few of the other ones on the iceberg, too. Really, it's worth reading the entirety of the Passerby of Wandering Clouds relic set lore. Keep in mind all relic sets are in chronological order of head/gloves/body/feet. The bracer also mentions this part about 'That owner also once shared company and drinks with the unnamed, the two of them simply gazing at the moon with no words exchanged.' This has an interesting meaning in CN that tells us this drinking was an engagement ceremony. People thought this must be a typo but, despite many tickets from people, their only response has been that they're unable to comment further. They still haven't changed it as of patch 1.4.

Dan Heng polishes and gaze longingly at Cloud Piercer

A recent addition in patch 1.4 where Pom-pom now says:

"Passenger Dan Heng often carefully maintains and polishes his spear. Although the Express is very safe, it seems that he is not willing to drop his guard. Hmm, Pom-Pom can tell that when he polishes his spear, there isn't just alertness in his eyes, but a glint of longing, too. Don't underestimate me, Pom-Pom had dealt with all kinds of different passengers!"

I'm sure by now everyone knows that cloudpiercer was made by Yingxing (Blade).

You can see screenshots of this interaction in this post.

Mirror Inverted Colours

Apparently, a big part of CN character design focuses around the concept of inverted colour palette designs for ships. Because Blade and Dan Heng share inverted colours, this is considered a good sign for the ship as it indicates they were most likely designed together.

Danmei Coded

Danmei is the CN genre for mlm. It has a lot of stereotypical tropes that are very common in this genre and apply to renheng also. My personal opinion is that renheng is very similar to something written by Meatbun in particular - this is a danmei author who wrote erha, yuwu, and casefile compendium. The associated tropes are:

Lovers to enemies back to lovers angst timeline often including misunderstandings involving tragic betrayal

Black/red character x white/blue/green character

Under the moonlight

Amnesia and/or reincarnation themes

Protag did something that made everybody turn on them + complicated political drama plot

Redemption in death/isolation/retreating from the world at the end

Waiting frankly ridiculous amounts of time to be with the lover again

One character pursuing the other character literally

One character considered dead or demonic in some capacity, the other is ethereal and godly

Mortal x immortal

Afterlife/spirit realm shenanigans usually involving fractured souls as a result of torment

Contrasting personalities + others don't think they should get along/are bad for each other (usually the deviant personality is considered to be corrupting the noble/revered personality in some way which often involves a rebellion)

Mirrored Ultimates

Their ultimate animation sequences are very similar with close eyes with weapon - open eyes - attack.

And both of their ultimates take place in different versions of the same location:

Vidyadharas can't identify items belonging to their past yet Dan Heng got the bracer, jade pendant(?), and cloud piercer

There is an NPC named Lingling in the alchemy commission who is responsible for assisting in vidyadhara hatching rebirth. She collects the personal belongings of vidyadhara who claim that they want to keep the items for their next life. She says that:

From what I've seen, most Vidyadhara lack emotions fresh after their rebirth, and are unable to understand the sentiments of their previous selves. Not a single one has ever been able to identify which one of these items used to belong to them.

This is a big indicator that DH = DF and that their romance will be continuing in this life, too. We know from Passerby of Wandering Clouds relic set that Dan Heng is still in possession of the bracer because of the line: "His fingertips could still faintly feel the temperature from the other."

The stars always accompany the moon

This is a reference to their names in CN where the Xing in Yingxing means moon and the Yue in Yinyue jun (Imbibitor Lunae) means Moon. Their ship name Xingyue means Star and Moon, which is often why you will see them referred to with the Star/Moon emojis as well as the sword/leaf emoji.

Blade came to see Dan Heng blushing when Xiyan asked him to act the character in his story

This is referring to this video on weibo where Dan Heng is talking to Xiyan. You can see the characters in the crowd then Dan Heng starts blushing. The next time you see the crowd, Blade has arrived third from the right.

"Eternal Regrets of a High Elder" and "Dreams from a Past Life"

These are arias from the Cloudcry Songbook written by a Vidyadhara named Lingjie who reincarnated into Chunfen. Lingjie was an opera singer and apparently a big fan of Dan Feng and his romantic life.

My friend wrote the poem analysis of both of these arias. I would strongly recommend reading her translations.

TW: These translations do include mentions of a new leaked poem. Some of the content is NSFW.

Dan Heng named himself "Dan Heng" due to the "Dan" character carved by Yingxing/Blade

We know that Vidyadhara do not usually name themselves based on their past lives as they have no attachment to them. The other iteration of Dan Heng was named Yubie for example. Dan Heng's name in CN is 丹恒. The Dan 丹 means red/pellet/powder/cinnabar. You can see Dan is inscribed on his spear that Yingxing made for him, thus the logical conclusion is that Dan Heng saw the inscription and chose it as his name.

The Star of the East (Jupiter, Wood Star)'s god is Ying Xing, and their guardian beast is Azure Dragon/Canglong/Qinglong

This one is the only one I didn't understand when I first saw it, so I had to request the help of my CN knowing friends to figure it out.

Yingxing's name is 应星 (where the 星 means star).

The CN god of Jupiter Taisui Xingjun 太岁星君 is known as Yin Jiao 殷交

Jupiter is the planet associated with the Chinese wood element, known as the wood star

Azure Dragon is known as Canglong or Qinglong in CN. This is the guardian of Jupiter (the wood star).

Blade's fansong equates Yingxing with 听星 (judging star) which is an alias for Taisui Xingjun

You can read my friend's explanation of the relevant line in the fansong below.

Dan Feng's crime was inspired by Chang'E, the moon goddess for stealing an elixir of immortality and Yingxing was inspired by Hou Yi, a mortal and husband of Chang'E (he was given immortality but didn't, this parallels and contrasts Yingxing's immortality)

So there's actually a bit more to this. I'm going to just use my friend's explanation here:

According to Shang dynasty’s Guicang, It is said that there is a moon maiden who escaped to the moon after stealing an immortality pill. This story was eventually given more details: The moon maiden became known as Heng’e 姮娥, who was the wife of Hou Yi - the hero who shot down the 9 suns. Hou Yi was given an immortality pill/herb as a reward, but Heng’e stole it and flew to the moon. In some versions, upon finding out, Hou Yi tried to shot down her to prevent her from floating to the moon, but he hesitated and ended up choosing not to in the end because he still loved her. In the moon, Heng’e stayed in a palace called 廣寒宮 (the Vast Palace of Coldness) and cursed to be separated from her husband, alone with only the moon rabbits and the immortal osmanthus tree forever. Later on, her name was changed to Chang’e 嫦娥 because Emperor Wen of Han’s name was 劉恆 Liu Heng, and so the 姮 Heng part of her name became a taboo. The interesting here is that 姮 (Heng’e), 恆 (Liu Heng), 恒 (Dan Heng) are all alternative ways to write the same character, 姮, which originally means moon, Heng’e. In addition, we also have a lot of official artworks depicting Dan Heng with the moon and osmanthus flowers:

Yeah so I think that just about covers everything. I left out the ones that were self-explanatory but if anyone is still confused about any of them I can try to elaborate further in the replies.

#honkai star rail #hsr lore #renheng #xingyue #dan heng #blade #dan feng #yingxing

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for being paranoid about US Border Security?

🪤 <- for searching later

Background info: I live in Canada, (relatively) close to the US border. Because of this, when shopping online it can be cheaper to have orders shipped to the nearest American town and then drive down yourself to pick them up. I hadn't done this myself but it's pretty normal to do around here.

This happened at the end of this summer, so the situation is fully over but my (white) friends immediately adjacent to this situation have said that I was basically the only asshole here and I feel that I am, at least, only one of the assholes. I want people's genuine opinions however. I have since stopped talking to this entire group of people, who I'd previously been friends with for 4-5 years, over this issue and a couple others.

My friend (20s, white) had ordered a package to [nearest American town], and because they don't have a car, they were looking for someone who could do a day trip to the states so they could pick it up. I (20s, white-passing, but from a mixed South Asian Muslim family, & I have very recognizably Muslim family names) offered to drive them down with my car, they agreed. We were going to split gas money, the date was set, everything was ready to go.

A few days prior to when we were going to go, my south asian parent reminded me that because I have muslim names, I need to be very careful when crossing the border, because the US Customs is well known for profiling muslims/arabs and pulling them aside for intensive screening. My parent also pointed out that, because my friend smokes weed basically every single day (legal in Canada), I would need to make sure that they were not carrying any weed with them when we went.

I was freaked out by this, and was not thinking super clearly in the moment because it was close to midnight and things my parent had mentioned about previous experiences going through Customs had scared me a lot.

I immediately texted my friend, saying that Customs would find weed on them if they swabbed them, and that it would be "a big problem." They replied that Customs doesn't swab for weed, and that they "failed to see any problem." I replied that Customs is allowed to go through your phone (people have been turned away at the border for admitting to having used cannabis before, but if you tell Customs that you've never smoked weed and they find evidence to the contrary they can ban you from entering the country for lying to border personnel.)

I linked them to an unofficial site that went into detail about what US Customs agents can do if you have weed on you or admit to having smoked previously. My vague intent at this point was for us to get everything in order so that none of the bags/jackets/etc we were taking could possibly have had any weed crumbs/dead old vapes/edible packaging in them , but I didn't get a chance to say this because they immediately replied that even if Customs tested them and found weed in their system, that they wouldn't care because it's legal in Canada. I said that Customs very much would care, and they said that I was insulting them and accusing them of having a criminal record. At this point they sent a further ~10 upset/angry texts in a row, which I didn't open or reply to because I was really upset at this point and needed a minute.

At this point (around midnight), they phoned me, I picked it up and they immediately(!) started yelling at me and saying I was a piece of shit etc etc. I told them they sounded dysregulated and should take a minute to compose themself (I phrased what I said in an aggravating therapy-speak way, bc I had been watching vids about cptsd immediately before they phoned me, but I was extremely freaked out, as I think most people would be when their friend is suddenly yelling at them, and it was the first thing that came to mind). This just made them yell louder, so I told them I refused to let people speak to me that way, said goodnight, they said goodnight, we hung up, and I blocked their calls and texts so they couldn't continue berating me.

After this, I realized that I'd completely neglected to mention that the reason I was particularly scared was because of US Customs' Islamophobic profiling, but I had gone into the interaction assuming (incorrectly) that they already knew implicitly that that was going to be an issue, because we'd known each other for 5 years and I've definitely talked (not recently) about how going thru US Customs is always a pain in the ass because my whole family gets profiled and taken for extra questioning, so right before I went to sleep I briefly unblocked them and sent a text saying that the reason I was so paranoid was because of the extra questioning I was already expecting to encounter at the border, but that it was now irrelevant anyway because I refused to be in a car with someone who was totally fine treating me this way.

I've since stopped talking to this person and, by association, my (white) friendgroup because they sided with them completely. It was a long time coming for other additional reasons I can't get into though.

TL;DR

Planning trip from Canada to US in my car with stoner friend, realized a few days before trip that US Customs can arbitrarily fuck your shit up if they find evidence of weed on you. Got scared and tried to tell stoner friend that it would be a big problem if they had weed on them, they flipped their shit and yelled at me over the phone about it, I blocked them (functionally cancelling the trip).

I believe I was accusatory in a bad way, and that I should have communicated better, but ultimately that my fear had a 100% legitimate basis and should not have been completely and totally dismissed by everyone around me, even though I was too extreme in my paranoia

(They were able to get another ride and pick the package up later)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mixelation · 1 month

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i went into the itasaku tag and there's a lot of art of them with minato. (if you just went WTF WHY? it's because in the big favorite character poll that happened semi recently, they're the top 3 favorite characters.) anyway obviously i started to go "hmmm could that ship WORK though"

here is what i have so far

itachi and sakura accidentally time travel directly into the middle of the third shinobi war. this forces an unlikely team-up thing for survival.

i think itachi is so committed to his villain bit he would rather fuck himself over royally than team up with sakura. sakura is SLIGHTLY more likely to play nice but still needs dire circumstances as motivation. so maybe: they end up immediately in enemy territory with their konoha headband (sakura) and uchiha eyes (itachi) and become immediate targets. suddenly sakura is like "hey i need you to kill everyone" and instead of doing that itachi coughs up blood. she can point him at enemies though and he'll genjutsu them and that works great. like this

so sakura is like "okay i need your help as a more experienced ninja for my own survival" bc yeah sakura is a badass, but she's never had to go on the run before or fight more than a handful of ninja at once. meanwhile itachi is breathing better than he has in years after one (1) session with sakura and suddenly a temporary team up seems like a great idea. like yes he wants sasuke to kill him but in order for that to happen he needs to live long enough to un-time travel himself.

however. neither of them have any idea what's happening. they get into stupid nerd fights over details of historical events. they cite publications at each other. frequently it turns out both of them are wrong. they also argue over whether or not they should seek help from konoha

sakura: you don't have to TELL the uchiha you murder them all in the future???? just use your fancy eyes to legitimize being an uchiha so they believe us!

itachi: (silent internal emoting)

meanwhile jiraiya has picked up on the most INSANE rumors of a tsunade impersonator smashing forests and mountains and shit. she may or may not have an even worse orochimaru impersonator with her. jiraiya sends minato to investigate.

there's a lot of fanboy debate over if minato could beat itachi in a fight. and for the purposes of this fic, i'm going to say: yes, yes he can. and it's incredibly upsetting for both itachi AND sakura

minato, to sakura, while sitting on itachi: okay so if you ARE an impersonator, your tsunade costume is really bad

sakura: (TERRIFIED SILENT SCREAMING?)

minato: but your jutsu impersonation is pretty spot on.....?

minato: (looks down between his knees at itachi) did you do that with your..... sharingan....... mr. uchiha bastard?

itachi: (has never been more confused in his life. he's never lost a fight this bad. he assumed losing a fight this bad would mean he'd die. he's not confused about being called a bastard though. that just happens.)

then idk. maybe they tell minato they're time travelers and he takes them back to jiraiya. the mood is very "minato is strong and hot and friendly. this is both sakura and itachi's type they didn't know they had. but also. help."

jiraiya: hmmm well, this one's obviously an uchiha, but YOU need to prove you're really tsunade-hime's apprentice. tell me...... what are her measurements

sakura: (pulverizes a boulder with her bare fist) does that answer your question or should i demonstrate on something else ( :

jiraiya: wow it's a mini-tsunade no further questions!!!!

i think i want minato to be in the 18-19 range so it's right around the time of itachi's birth. they decide itachi and sakura shouldn't go to konoha to reduce time travel shenanigans, such as accidentally preventing their own births. it seems like itachi would especially be at risk for butterfly effecting himself

sakura: (thoughtful expression)

itachi: no.

sakura: i don't say anything!

minato: ???? aren't you allies?

sakura: inside joke :) don't worry about it :)

so minato ends up their konoha proxy. he goes and researches un-time traveling them and then shows up and acts.... really charming? like when minato tells you everything will be okay, you believe him. and he's SMART and HANDSOME and once SETTLES AN ARGUMENT OVER WHERE THE RICE COUNTRY CAPITAL, WHICH MOVES ON AVERAGE EVERY THREE MONTHS DURING THE WAR, CURRENTLY IS. he's not even condescending that they're both wrong. itachi keeps thinking about him wrestling him down into submission and he doesn't know why. sakura is rethinking her personal definition of "dreamy"

sakura after minato leaves: this is SO upsetting. he's not even my type. i like dark and brooding.

itachi: what

sakura: DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT

and theeeen...... maybe they both get so sexually frustrated over minato they have sex with each other, idk don't worry about it

#itasaku #itachi/sakura #itachi/sakura/minato kind of i guess

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euphoniumpets · 1 year

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All of the girls you loved before | Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld! Reader

Summary: You never thought falling in love with the captain of hummingbird, yet alone the prince of Ravka.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld! Reader

A/N: i missed writing one-shots of my favorite characters and this came up my mind since i'm a sucker for the reader being Kaz's sister and something about taylor swift song send me feelings about this one.

Warnings: pure fluff, just some slight ptsd.

old masterlist | navi | new masterlist

Of all the plans you conjured over the years, this had to be, by far, the morst risky, inconvenient, fragile, stupid plan yet. Maybe you'd been a little vague from the moment you saw the private ship and decided to board on it when you left Ketterdam.

You'd always wanted to venture out into the world, seeing the possiblities and what's out there, unlike your brother, Kaz Brekker. When Jordie died, you two were never the same. You succumbed into the darkness and you tried everything in your power to survive of the cold streets of Ketterdam.

You swore that day to yourself that you would not be there again, trying to figure out on how to survive. Because that's what you two did, despite seeking out the vengance you longed for, you longed for the freedom.

Leaving Ketterdam was the hardest part since you would not have your brother next to you at all times. Kaz had been at your side ever since Jordie died, not letting go of you since he was afraid that the same thing would happen to you.

But you assured him that you would be fine and that you would send letters when you had time to assure him that you was alive and well. Inej and Jesper was sad that little Brekker was going out and you wished that Inej could be there with you, but some day when someone didn't owe her, you would tell her about the adventures and someday, the two of you would venture out in the world together.

Jesper had handed you guns that he had bought in order to ''keep you safe''. Although, you didn't want to admit it, but the guns were pretty useful and you understood why know he had the passion for his guns since he would always talk about them.

And so you did say goodbye to the city who caused you harm and ventured out in the world. With your ability to blend in with your Ravka accent and your clothing, you got on board with no trouble at all.

You got settled in quickly by the crew at the Hummingbird, and Sturmhond, the captain was kind enough to lend you a room. Tamar was the only one who ever questioned your background over the years, but you kept quiet about it.

Of course, Sturmhond knew your story was patchy, but he also understood running from your past was better than anyone. The relationship between you and Sturmhond started suddenly, nobody saw it coming, including the two of you. He didn't see coming the ability to shamelessly flirt with you, or when his heart would jump whenever you was near him.

Despite when Alina Starkov and Mal had arrived at the hummingbird was the recognition in their eyes when they knew that you was there. Being the great friends that the three of you were, they didn't say anything.

You were glad that they decided to keep their mouth shut, and in return, you helped them to find the Sea Whip along with Sturmhond. You and Alina talked about there was something about your captain that the two of you couldn't put the finger on it, but you never discussed it further.

Then the groups were splitting up, and it was only you and Sturmhond in the room. The plan was discussed in detail, turning over and over. He knew that you were intelligent, and you knew that he was lying to you. Maybe a little to intelligent for your liking, but that's what you had been when you and your brother would plan the heist together.

''There's just one thing, before we join hands and whatever we do, I want to know exactly who i'm running with,'' Sturmhond replied and looked up from the map. You looked at him with an amused expression.

''Who are you really?'' He asked.

''I should ask you the same,'' You replied and crossed your arms. Your eyes narrowed at your captain. ''I see,'' He replied before closing the door.

''Nikolai Lantsov,'' He spoke, waiting for your reaction. It didn't came a surprise to you, knowing that he struck a deal with Jesper and Kaz when they returned back to Ketterdam. ''Y/N Brekker, I figure out that you're the one who struck a deal with my brother,'' You responded.

''Indeed,'' He responded. ''Now, why are you here?'' He asked and went back to his position. ''I already told you from the beginning,'' You rolled your eyes. ''And I guess your answer still stays the same?'' He asked.

''Yes?'' You replied, although, your answer sounded more as a question.

''So, how much does this change?'' You frowned. ''About us,'' He explained.

''Nothing,'' You answered and you saw him approaching closer to you.

''Really?'' He asked and you felt him coming closer to your body. You froze and didn't dare to move.

''Really,'' You answered. You looked up from the ground, meeting his hazel brown eyes. You took a deep breath, preparing for the feeling of drowning. It had always been like that after Jordie died, you couldn't stand other people's touch, just like Kaz had been with others. It made you feel drownsy, like you couldn't breathe as the water suffocated your lungs while you tried to catch your breath.

But some people were able to pull you out and some people were Nikolai and suddenly, you didn't felt like drowning, but instead, floating around with peace.

#kaz brekker x sister reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #jesper fahey #inej gafha #nikolai lantsov x brekker reader #nikolai lantsov x rietveld reder #shadow and bone

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moonbaby26 · 1 month

Text

Title: The Nest

(Chapter 7 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced), Smoker x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: non con elements, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, possessive/controlling relationship, hint of exhibitionism, implied past physical and/or sexual abuse to reader

Chapter Synopsis: You must now fulfill your previous promise to Doflamingo, beginning your stay on the island of Scylla with him. Alone with the warlord again at last, he’s further becoming everything you’d feared and needed all at once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

——————————

The days back at sea came and went one after another. Thankfully, Vice Admiral Momonga was someone you got along with well. He was a bit serious, but clear in any expectations for his crew, which made life easy for you. Because there was then more doing than thinking, regardless of the twisting emotions still inside of you.

And with Momonga being your interim commanding officer, you had also put in your request for shore leave direct with him. He’d told you that even HQ was having trouble reaching Tsuru except for the shortest status reports now. So you had no chance for contact with her anyway.

On orders of the world government, Tsuru and your normal crew had pushed the rebels on Lyra even higher into the mountains there. Unfortunately, it’d also become more of a waiting game of starving those remaining freedom fighters out as the marine blockade had cut off all other supplies to the island.

But the extreme terrain of peaks and valleys there also made it difficult to get out proper transmissions, save for the briefest bursts with weather permitting.

Though you weren’t worried. Because someone like Tsuru wouldn’t be outsmarted by the rebels’ untrained forces. It was only a matter of time before the world government accepted the enemy’s surrender to reinstate the previous royal family there instead.

And nobility like that was actually the only reason Momonga’s ship would be stopping at the island of Scylla as well. Once you’d been aboard, you’d found out those additional details that that part of the voyage would be an escort mission.

Some high blooded man and his two sons were all heading to Scylla for a few days of rubbing elbows with their fellow upper crust. All of them wealthy and connected enough to have a vice admiral like Momonga at their beck and call as a bodyguard at least.

The vice admiral had given you no trouble with your own request either though. Three days and nights of shore leave had all been approved. After safely delivering the escorted nobles, Momonga would be docking at the nearby marine port on one of Scylla’s satellite islands. And you would get to stay on the mainland and then reconvene with his crew when they came to recollect that same royal family a few days later.

But the closer the start date drew, the more anxiety gripped you. Until the night finally came where you found yourself still unable to properly sleep, standing on deck again just before sunrise to the lower ranks’ surprise.

The wind was somewhat cold, bringing up an ocean spray along with it as you’d stepped against the ship’s railing to view those distant lights of Scylla becoming sharper and sharper on the horizon at last.

You could hear the skeleton crew of the night watch calling out their standard protocols. Announcing land in sight, and determining the headings for the helmsman to begin turning the ship towards harbor.

But something in your stomach had tightened even further as the port did begin to become visible. Because from even there you could recognize the docks already full of other ships in the dim moonlight. Ones clearly from all makes and nationalities.

You were wondering if one of them was discreetly Doflamingo’s. Even though he’d given you his supposedly private, most direct number what was now almost three weeks ago, you had not used it yet for any late night “check in” as he’d called it.

Because Momonga had approved the exact dates you’d first told the warlord. Nothing had changed on your side.

And you’d been correct in your assumption too that there’d be no private quarters for you on this ship. You’d hardly been alone the entire time, and never felt comfortable enough to try and force the chance to be.

You’d wanted to do more than just talk with Doflamingo as well. A call alone would not have satisfied you even if you’d had the time.

Yet what if the pirate wasn’t even here yet? Or what if he was just jerking you along the entire time? You knew you would have to call him today to confirm a meeting time at the church regardless.

———————————

And later that morning you finally had made an excuse about needing to call the mainland to verify arrival with a place you would have rented a room at. But in reality, there was no such reservation. Your intent had always been to stay with the warlord only, just as you’d promised him.

Yet if Doflamingo ditched you, you would have then changed the story to say that the imaginary room had been double booked and given away already. A believable notion for as high traffic as this island was currently.

As it was then though, you’d somewhat hid away in an armory room. Rifles were racked up behind you while you’d dialed the number Doflamingo had given you, standing with your shoulder pressed to the wooden wall as the marine snail rang and rang.

The level of anxiety that returned to you as that phone continued to ring for far too many times was embarrassing too. Almost enough to make you hang up and just assume you were on your own before the click of a connection made you stand up straighter within the dark room.

“What?” Came the familiar male voice, albeit still sounding as if he’d just been woken up and wasn’t at all pleased about it. He didn’t even say his name either. But he must not need to if this was really such a direct line.

“Our ship has docked.” You said instead of any greeting either. “If you still want to meet me, I have an escort assignment I have to finish first for some duke and his kids. And then I’ll be free to go into town off duty. I should be able to get to the church by eleven hundred.” The shorter you could keep this conversation, the better as you’d just dumped all that information immediately onto him.

There was an uncomfortably long pause as well. And then, “Well good morning to you too.” Finally came as a rather snide retort. Followed by, “So in other words…you’re waiting for some other man to wake up just so you can play servant girl to him?”

You frowned immediately at his fresh attitude. What was he so pissy about already? “Sounds like you were still sleeping yourself” You countered.

But there was an additional irritated grunt at that as Doflamingo’s voice got even sharper. “I was awake until just three hours ago making every call possible so that I could clear my schedule for you today, brat.”

“So you’re here already?” You asked for that confirmation anyway, choosing just to disregard the rest to keep this conversation moving.

“Of course I am.” And he did sound somewhat more awake there before continuing. “So you said eleven? Fine. I’ll meet you in the church by then.” It was the easiest landmark you’d both agreed to before.

“Alright. I’ll be there. The upper level.” You still suggested more specifically next. That gallery would hopefully be less crowded than the main floor today. And a better view for you truthfully, who had still never seen any of it.

“Yes. Don’t keep me waiting.” Was his only additional reply though. Terse really before the connection ended in another loud click.

————————————

For the nobles you were with, they had indeed slept until the very last moment. Only by almost ten did they suddenly have more sense of urgency to disembark. They wanted off the “dirty” marine vessel and to get to whatever higher end accommodations they’d made on the island.

You’d had to listen to them berate one another as well as you’d still waited while they gathered their things. The father was insistent with his sons, telling them to put their masks on as per carnival traditions. And all other kinds of comments as he urged them to look presentable and in fashion for the holiday.

Because they would not shut up about it, you knew they were attending some ball tomorrow night and the duke was expecting his boys to find equally high born dates today to invite there. All with the goal of said dates becoming political wives of significant dowry apparently.

But the boys were young and too busy whining about the cold, about the dampness of the fine mist still coming off of the sea, and any other matter of trivial things.

One of the other sailors made eye contact with you amidst it all and you saw him roll his eyes dramatically at their persistent complaining.

And you’d finally smirked a little at that, just before another heavy bag was thrown on top of the other two you were already balancing for the nobles.

“Do not drop that! The contents are fragile.” One of the boys scolded you.

Then why had they thrown it at you? “Yes, my lord.” You answered in feigned respect, though they couldn’t even be bothered to glance at your face to notice the insincerity of your expression.

More than one marine was trying not to laugh by then too though. But the naive royals, cousins to some king or something, still didn’t pick up on any of that mockery before they finally exited the gangplank.

Though still complaining all the while as the fancy heels on their boots then tried to catch on the seams between the wooden slats. Especially with the ship still bobbing up and down slightly as the waters shifted against the dock.

The fools had no sea legs at all. You would have taken them by the arm like children to assist them, but you didn’t want to be yelled at either for daring to ever touch them with your filthy peasant hands.

So you just had to watch as they stumbled and bitched while you and the rest of your marines walked down smoothly even with balancing the ridiculous amount of bags and boxes they’d saddled you all with.

A horse drawn carriage awaited your guests once on land though. And it was a blessing as soon as they were in it with the door shut to not have to hear them any longer.

That was when one of those other sailors looked back to you. A lieutenant just below your own rank. “Captain, we can take it from here. We’ll play as bell hops the rest of the way to their villa. The Vice Admiral said you had shore leave starting today. So get out of here and go enjoy it.”

“You sure?” You asked anyway as you’d handed off the bags you’d been carrying. They were now being loaded, some on top and some below the carriage.

“Positive. This is a waste of time enough already.” He answered, then somewhat purposefully throwing the bag they’d specifically said was fragile roughly to the carriage’s bottom storage.

“Alright then. See you all in a few days.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with him if escape was finally offered of course.

So as the other marines followed that carriage, still acting as security for it, you had backtracked to board Momonga’s ship again instead. You quickly changed out of uniform and gathered your single small duffel bag before heading alone back down the gangplank and towards town.

———————————

It did feel a little surreal just walking on your own once you got further into the city however. Everyone ignoring you as you had to turn this way or that not to strike shoulders when the crowds of tourists bottlenecked in some areas.

You were far more accustomed to being in formation with your crew, and always all in uniform whenever you moved through places on patrol. People tended to give marines a wider berth. Either from respect or fear depending on which side of the law they found themselves on.

So to be disregarded so fully was still strange as you kept moving through the narrow streets trying to take in everything while you passed one new thing after another.

You could smell the different street foods being cooked and sold. And the fresh flowers and decorative garlands as well that many were purchasing to wear in addition to their masks.

Carnival had begun in full force on the island. But you were just an observer here, not a participant. You were only appreciating the elaborate spectacle and decorations that you doubted you’d ever get the chance to see again.

Because so many stars had had to line up just to make this visit happen. And as you rounded another corner, walking along one of those clear canals and the gondolas ferrying people up and down them, you had at last found the main square.

Lights were hung up on strings between the many lamp posts. Leaving you to imagine what it must look like up close at night as you’d passed additional booth after booth of food and other carnival vendors.

But this town square was massive, large enough for all of it and more as you realized some people were already dancing even this early in the day. Musicians were playing as you watched couples enjoying themselves, moving together to the music.

Others sat at the outdoor tables, drinking and laughing. What you assumed was likely sparkling wine was in bottles already open, sitting in buckets of ice even in the cool air as they snacked on antipasti plates of all kinds of foods.

You saw some sort of stuffed pasta that looked amazing too when you’d yet to eat a thing today, but you had to remember the mission at hand.

Which was still rather impossible to forget as you now stared up to the towers of the old church at the center of it all. Just like the photos in your book from years ago, those spires and the flying buttresses supporting them seemed to scrape the sky.

And even from here, the stained glass took up so much of the remaining surface area, as you wondered if it’d really be the rainbow of colors inside that you’d always envisioned.

——————————

Once within those walls, it was crowded there too. But far quieter as people milled about, taking in the intricate stonework, tapestries, and marble statues of the saints. Yet those statues were only newer additions of course. Works commissioned by the world government within just the last five hundred years or so. Each statue honoring one of the founding families of Mariejois.

The legends were that this building had once been used to worship something far older than even those Celestial Dragons though. But you didn’t care about any of that today as you finally got to look up at all the still original stained glass above you.

The largest main window was a representation of the sun, with hues of yellows, oranges, and reds mixing with the light from all the other windows. But races from all over the world were represented in those many secondary windows too, like weaving a story long forgotten. Fishmen and merpeople, giants, minks, and more. Even those humans with wings that you had been told by Tsuru really existed on islands somewhere in the sky.

Candles were lit here and there too, though not really needed for all the light still being cast across the limestone floors in the daylight.

And as you looked further up, the vaulted ceilings were painted blue like the sky, with gold leaf stars peppering throughout to reflect that sunlight from the windows even further.

But while you walked beneath so much history, you were also already heading towards one of the spiral staircases that lead up to the gallery. This was a large balcony that was thought to accommodate even more worshippers in the extremely distant past.

Your watch said it was a quarter until eleven when you’d climbed the stairs. You knew your feet had slowed while you’d been taking in all the sights. But you weren’t late. And as you’d sat on the closest pew to the railing, you left your bag beside you while you still looked out over everything in a bit of disbelief.

Clouds must have been shifting in the real skies outside as the sun danced through the windows now. You were not religious by any means, but sitting alone here as you watched those colors moving across the floors, you finally had some of that moment you’d been seeking.

You were seeing something you didn’t think you’d ever deserve or be able to. Because as you’d been told so very many times, you were no one, nothing. And this place and its beauty was not for your kind. But somehow you’d finally made it here regardless.

Even if it wasn’t with Kuzan, or Smoker, or anyone else who could have shared this with you and actually understood the significance.

You’d swallowed at that lonely thought too, just watching the people wandering below who now looked so much smaller to you. No connection really felt with them as you used the back of your hand to wipe that faintest hint of new moisture from your eyes.

If the warlord did come, he’d surely think you an idiot if you were emotional before him yet again. He’d caught you crying in Mariejois. And he’d made you cry in Sabaody. Here in Scylla, it didn’t need to become three times to make it a habit.

But it was turning into one, wasn’t it? Despite your best efforts. A dangerous cycle too, as if this growing weakness alone was what truly summoned and fed that man. The way you kept feeling more detached and unsated from any thought that wasn’t about him.

And your breath did still catch when this game suddenly began again, that instinct of fight or flight becoming just another familiarity to you too as long fingers wrapped around your throat.

Doflamingo had arrived early.

But you could feel the warmth in his grip as well. Even with his nails pushing against your pulse point. Your heartbeat literally in his hands as he stood behind you then.

It wasn’t the same as Mariejois or Sabaody though. If he wanted to fight you here, he already would have.

You were only being tested now as the words finally came.

“You never called me in all these weeks, woman…not until this morning. Have you really been so busy?” Was the very first thing he asked. That tone of insult as clear as the sunlight all around you.

And only then did you finally understand his earlier attitude.

This goddamn fragile man.

“They would have been suspicious if I’d segregated myself. I was never alone.” You spoke with quiet purpose, even with your throat still pressed by his hand.

“You found time this morning,” he reminded you.

“Barely a few minutes. That wouldn’t have satisfied either of us.” You contended sincerely next. You knew he had to notice your escalating heart rate against his hand though.

Maybe even the growing heat too. Some might be your haki just under the surface, readying to defend your throat by reflex alone. But there was definitely more to it. You felt it in your chest as those same fingers of his loosened enough to briefly stroke your jaw instead.

“I missed you.” He said.

And your lips parted in a little surprise as his fingertips ghosted across them. Just before he released you entirely, then walking around the end of that pew to slide in to sit beside you.

Like this was just the most natural thing in the world when Doflamingo’s hip pressed against yours and his arm hooked around your shoulders.

The warlord pulled you against him in one fluid movement, the two of you then sitting tightly together while he looked past the balcony railing as well, taking in the view of everything now below you both.

But you were only looking at him. He was in an all black suit for once, the fabric perfectly tight and tailored to his long frame. No feather coat to speak of either.

The only two pops of color were a crimson red tie tucked into the vest beneath his suit jacket. And the matching blood red carnival mask which covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose in replacement of his usual glasses.

The mask had built in lenses though, still hiding him regardless even as he finally smiled darkly down at you, realizing your obvious stare.

“You’re looking a bit smitten, woman,” He taunted, taking your chin again with one hand. “I clean up well. Don’t I?”

But he didn’t care if you actually answered that. It was clear what kind of greeting Doflamingo really wanted as he leaned further down to capture your mouth with his already.

And you didn’t resist him. Not this time. Neither of you caring that this was still a church either as his tongue had quickly slid inside your mouth.

Though you did pull back again as soon as the demon’s surprisingly sharp teeth had nipped your bottom lip next. Hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bleed this time.

“Once bitten, twice shy?” He mocked through a chuckle regardless. And his arm that had still been around your shoulders shifted enough for him to bring a hand over one of your breasts to squeeze it harshly.

Painfully in fact, right through your shirt as you made a noise of discomfort.

He straightened back up as you did, but still looking down at you. Those white teeth glinting as he smirked. “I’m just hungry is all. Can’t I have a bite?”

“There’s plenty of food outside.” You finally spoke in a huff then, but continuing to look at him with an odd fascination. It was just so different seeing him dressed this way, no matter how brutish he was already behaving.

It did remind you of the suits he used to wear in the North Blue. But you hadn’t thought of him as anything but a thug then. Though he was far more dangerous and much stronger today.

“It’s rude to stare without following through, lover.” He broke that new silence though, simultaneously moving his hand lower to slip it beneath the bottom edge of your shirt as he said so.

And before you could even protest, he’d forced that same hand past the waistband of your pants as you felt his fingers dig in over the top of your underwear.

He squeezed your mound possessively as he still smiled at you. “This treasure is getting all of me later, healed or not. I hope you understand that. I’ve been celibate for fucking weeks now, woman. It has not been fun.”

And in that single moment his words were somehow more shocking than the literal handful of you that he was now molesting for any onlooker who may walk by on the balcony.

“There’s no way that’s true.” You still managed to say as his fingers started to push aside the thin strip of fabric between your legs and touch flesh next. In your mind, there was no way in heaven or hell that a man like this would willfully abstain.

But his head tilted as his smile faded at that. “You really do have a lot of nerve…first brushing me off, because you’re just so ‘busy’ on your new ship. And then calling me a liar as well?” His fingers hooked a little harder at those words, already edging your entrance.

And as you tried reflexively to close your legs at the additional aggression, you still didn’t back down from him.

“Well what reason would you have? That doesn’t make sense.”

But he just pulled you even closer then, forcing your legs further open with his other arm as he brought you into his lap.

“Because I wanted to fast before my next feast. So quit being such a bitch. This is what you wanted isn’t it? Me all to yourself?”

And you tensed as one of his fingers did slide inside of you. He wasn’t being gentle now at all as he started thrusting it in and out of your resisting channel soon after.

“Yes. I want it…” you finally relented though. Realizing some other people were starting to come up the staircase to the balcony. You would let him do this if he would just take it somewhere more private. “But not here.” You purposefully let your tone go more into that pleading range at that. Trying to appeal to his ego then if it meant being spared this public exhibition. “Please.”

And that ploy actually worked. “Then clean this off.” Was the command that came next as he growled slightly, hand pulling out of your pants just as abruptly at your change in tone. But he brought those now wet digits in front of your face for you to follow through with his new order.

The logical side of your mind knew that saliva would be no cleaner than the slick of you already on his fingers. But it was clearly the demeaning act itself that he wanted from you.

You knew too that in moments you’d be in view of those strangers still rounding the staircase. So you could either comply, or you were sure he’d make you do it in front of them instead.

There were mere seconds to decide as you opened your mouth and he immediately slid his fingers inside. The taste was strange while you sucked them just long enough to appease him. And just before those other tourists reached the top of the steps to walk past you.

He withdrew his hand with a chuckle before being seen, as if it really all was so fun. “See? Now that wasn’t so bad was it?” He was still grinning too, even as you felt him wipe his hand dry of your spit against your clothed thigh afterward.

Regardless of your non answer though, he did seem more relaxed after this display of submission, looking back out to the church again as his arm went around your waist.

“So are you going to tell me why you wanted this place so badly? You don’t exactly strike me as the pious type.”

The pirate’s tone may finally be more neutral now as well. Yet you still knew that if he thought you were hiding anything from him, it was just going to put him into a terrible mood all over again. And that version of Doflamingo was not the one you wanted to spend your shore leave with.

So you had no choice but to answer. And truthfully at that.

“It’s not important. There was just this book I had when I was a kid. It had so many pictures of this island and the church. So I’d always look at it whenever I needed to be somewhere else for a while. That’s all.”

And you waited afterward, just for some snide or cruel comment in response to that childish admission. Ready for his next barb as your eyes went back to those radiant windows.

But the warlord’s hand had moved up, rubbing your back almost gently instead as he simply responded.

“Then this was your escape.”

“Yeah.” You just agreed. And you could feel his stare on you. That way you were already getting used to when he was truly analyzing you. “What else do you want to know?” You still asked next under that scrutiny.

You saw the slight upturn of his mouth in the corner of your eye as well. A smirk that didn’t fully form. Maybe you had surprised him a little there. But it wasn’t an offer he was going to pass up either.

“Tell me what you did before Tsuru then. Before you were a marine.”

And his hand was under your chin again, capturing it and turning your face so that you couldn’t look away from him either as he awaited your answer.

Why he should give a damn about your past was as nonsensical as anything else to you though. You knew there was nothing unique in the things you’d suffered.

“The same as anyone from my town…I stole to eat. I hid to live.”

“Hid from who?” He insisted regardless. His grip on your jaw tightening a little again.

“My mom’s bosses. And her customers.” You just replied plainly. The emotion to those memories a lot more numb after this many years. “But she’s dead.” You were still quick to clarify though. You had no living family if he was thinking there was anyone else to exploit. “She worked in a brothel.”

You saw Doflamingo’s expression change, if ever so slightly. And as insane as it was, you swore it was that flicker of jealousy again. Even if he did ask more carefully then. “Did they make you work there too?”

“No.” You were also quick to confirm. Though trying not to show your discomfort in the idea that he may still care more that someone else had hypothetically had you, than the immorality of an underaged girl being a victim there at all.

“But they tried to….didn’t they?” He was definitely making the right assumptions none the less though. It took an evil man to understand another one you supposed.

“Sometimes.” You admitted. Yet you’d always managed to slip away before clothes could come off or anything could truly happen. And if not, you’d go to plan B with those men. “I’d make them so mad that they would rather hit me instead. That worked if I couldn’t get away otherwise.”

Doflamingo shifted on the pew, and you couldn’t tell if he was actually finally bothered by this as he smiled. The smile was definitely not a happy one.

“You’ve always been clever, haven’t you?” He told you.

No, you’d just done what you had to.

But he rubbed your back one more time before sliding you out of his lap so that he could stand up again.

You watched him straighten his suit jacket and tie too, a clear vanity still evident there before he slid one hand into his pants pocket.

His other hand then stretched out for you to take it and stand up beside him as well. But he didn’t let go of it afterward either, wanting you to follow him as he held your hand in his own. “Let’s go get you decent, and then we’ll go eat some fucking food already. I’m starved.”

You’d put the strap of your bag over your shoulder to go with him. And of course you were already wondering what he had in mind for making you “decent”. Yet your concerns on that did fade a little as you’d noticed him hesitate once back on the first level of the church.

Doflamingo was still walking with you. But his gait had slowed when something to the right caught his eye.

And you tried to follow his gaze as he pulled you along really, but the only thing there were the statues of the saints which everyone had to pass back through in order to exit. Nineteen of them in fact for each of the original families.

You heard a low chuckle emit from him just as you thought he’d been looking at one statue in particular. But another tourist had stepped in front of it before you could read the dedication plaque as you passed.

And then you were both outside again in the sun.

———————————

Doflamingo had had you leave your bag with some lackey of his that’d been waiting out there. They would take your things back to wherever it was that he was staying on the island.

But you didn’t really focus on any of that in this moment, still feeling like you’d fallen into some bizarre alternate reality as the warlord continued to lead you so personally by the hand.

In truth, there was still a power dynamic you could feel in that gesture even now. Not the simple affection it may be for any other couple. But on the outside at least, it was a convincing facsimile to that more innocent kind of attention.

A kind of care you couldn’t remember really experiencing before. Because Smoker was far too gruff to ever do such a silly thing as hold your hand. And Kuzan hadn’t liked public displays of affection either. Even as casual as the now admiral could be in uniform, he didn’t feel comfortable showing too much with you back then. At least not in front of the other enlisted. It was only a private thing for him, not something to be lauded over others.

But Doflamingo’s hand was tight around yours without hesitation in front of everyone as you kept up, walking side by side together through the cobblestone streets.

The first place he brought you to was some fancy store too. Evidently what he had meant by that earlier comment of making you more presentable as you’d crossed the threshold with him and realized just how out of your depth you immediately were here.

Because this was the kind of place those idiots you’d been escorting earlier would have shopped. Only for those people who had inherited far more money than sense as you immediately stared at some of the dresses and the intricate jewelry sparkling from locked cases.

You even moved closer to Doflamingo, feeling like you were only in the way as some women who you were certain were princesses from one country or another moved past with their servants in close heel behind them.

But the pirate let go of your hand, sliding his arm around your waist instead when that had happened. Not paying any mind to the twittering of those girls as you did notice them look back at him.

They looked him over just as you had in the church actually before giggling back at each other. You were far from the only one thinking him distressingly attractive in that dark suit today.

But you realized he was only waiting for an attendant as one of the store employees quickly walked up to offer their assistance.

“My girlfriend here needs enough outfits for the rest of this week.” Doflamingo’s voice was a little different then, and you realized this must be his ‘talking to the help’ tone. Which as quickly as he shifted to that made you also wonder how a pirate, even a disgustingly rich one, would have learned to fit in so well in this type of place.

Though of course that heat immediately warmed your chest too at what he’d called you. Said as if it were actually true, not even a mocking smile as he’d called you his in front of these strangers.

And before you could fully accept any of that, he’d continued with even more, instructing the attendant.

“I want to pick the colors. And at least one dress needs to be good enough for the ball tomorrow.”

The what? Oh hell no.

You looked up at him, ready to argue then. But he just eased you forward, towards that shop worker as they’d pulled out a tailor’s tape to quickly begin taking your measurements.

You didn’t have time to fight back then as you felt more like a damned show dog instead for as rapidly as the process went after that.

They’d had you in and out of the changing rooms as they pulled one dress after another. This necklace or that, these shoes or those.

And each time you were dressed again, you were being stood in front of Doflamingo. The man now sitting in his typical fashion, leaned back on an equally expensive looking couch as he’d judged each new ensemble.

You had no idea what he was truly looking for. But you could tell when some of the dresses met his approval more than others. His knees had spread open more from his place on the couch for a few of them. Likely no coincidence that they were usually the much tighter fitted ones on your body.

It was still hard to keep track of which dresses he’d asked them to box and which he’d asked them to put back. But you knew there was no way this wasn’t costing thousands of beri when it was all said and done.

You heard him tell the staff to have the accepted ones all delivered to where he was staying too. Save for the outfit and accessories which he wanted you to wear out of the store.

That one to wear now was a shorter dress than some of the others, but still high class you guessed. But then again, what did you know as you were already trying to get used to the heavy necklace and bracelet, plus the skimpy heels they’d paired with it. Everything else you’d came here with would also be sent back to his place.

You did see him pull out a large wad of paper beri from one pocket by the end, putting it on a silver tray they had brought with his receipt.

Of course your mind instantly wondered how many illicit dealings had it taken to acquire that cash as he’d only stood and rejoined you, taking you by the hand again.

As always, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt them moving over you as he finally smirked again when the attendants weren’t hovering as closely anymore.

He leaned down to speak lowly in your ear as well. “I’m tempted to just bring you home right now and fuck each other until tomorrow morning, woman.”

And that smirk of his grew into a grin as he actually nipped that same ear of yours before whispering further into it.

“But as nice as your pussy is…” He’d moved the hand that was holding yours so that they both brushed low across your front then. “Eating this cunt alone won’t give me calories to burn. And I’ll need that energy for us tonight, won’t I?”

The renewed heat in your face to these lewd promises didn’t help anything of course. But, “I haven’t eaten anything today either,” was all you did agree with out loud at least, though leaning your head away a little for concern of him biting your ear harder the next time.

————————————

Once back outside again, there was one more detour that he wanted to take before finally looking for food. He’d walked you up to one of those large booths selling all variations imaginable of the carnival masks.

“There were still marines here earlier. It couldn’t hurt to cover you up a bit more.” He mused, starting to look at the different ones. “…What kind of animal are you anyway, woman?”

Getting your own mask wasn’t a terrible idea given the circumstances. But you didn’t know how long you could tolerate something stuck to your face either as you looked back up at his crimson one.

“What is yours supposed to be then?” You asked him.

“Why the red death of course.” And the dark smile he gave in accompaniment to those words did give you pause.

But that unease swiftly dissolved again as he’d grabbed a black mask with a few feathers next and abruptly shoved it in front of you. “Here. The black swan.”

“You’re the bird, not me.” You immediately protested, even as he pressed the thing right over your eyes anyway.

It didn’t have the built in lenses like his mask though, your eyes still able to be seen as you glowered up at him a little.

But he didn’t care about that as he spoke, something about that mask seeming to trigger these new words. “Have you ever actually pissed off a swan, darling? They’re mean as sin once provoked. Especially if you come between them and their nest. Hissing beasts bit the shit out of me once.”

And he was just talking as he unstuck and restuck your mask to make it perfectly straight across the bridge of your nose. Some kind of light adhesive already lining the backing of all of them.

But you were listening of course. Because what a random thing for him to admit. “You had swans? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have flamingos?” You asked somewhat rudely, that bit of irritation in you needing an outlet anyway with the stupid thing now pressed on your face.

He’d paused at your question too, as if he really were considering how much to divulge in answer. But he only frowned a little, before still responding with an even deeper tidbit. “The swans were a long time ago. They were only my mother’s. And yes, I know. Some pirates get all into the animal theming, but I don’t have the time anymore. If we kept flamingos at the palace, one of my crew would forget to feed the fucking things and I’m sure they’d end up dead.”

“Which would end up dead, your crew or the birds?” You dared to quip right back. And maybe it was because you didn’t know what else to do as you realized Doflamingo actually had a mother who he remembered.

He hadn’t just spawned from a pit somewhere after all. But if she’d kept swans, was it some sort of a farm he’d come from then? Or could she actually afford them as just pets?

You had so many questions you knew were not yet time to ask. But your boldness about his potential punishments for his crew’s mistakes only made him smile again. Even as he reached in his pocket to pull out some more beri to pay the booth worker for your mask.

“Very funny, you brat. But I don’t harm my actual officers just for failure. If I put them on a task above their ability, then that fault is mine.” Which was a rather level headed notion actually. Though he did finish with something far more what you would have expected. “In my inner circle, only betrayal is an instant execution. As I’ve warned you before I’m sure.”

And his hand squeezed yours a little tighter there as the two of you still walked on together.

But this was not a subject you wanted to put him back on. Too much of a risk when you still had days potentially alone together.

“There was some kind of pasta thing I saw someone with earlier. It looked really good.” You offered, trying to redirect the conversation to safer waters as you glanced around towards the food booths again. He’d already said how hungry he was more than once.

“An oversized ravioli wasn’t it? It looked like lobster inside.” He did answer you too, clearly having noticed that same dish at some point. But adding. “Lobster’s my favorite food if it is.”

This was good. He hadn’t put back up his full walls then. Though at the same time, him offering even these smallest details might only be a ploy to make you lower some more of your own defenses. One never knew with him.

But despite all the overthinking you still had to do, you did like the feel of his hand still around yours. And the sometimes jealous stares of the strangers looking at you both as you’d passed them. They didn’t know he was actually a monster of course. Just as they didn’t know the two of you were supposed to be natural enemies instead of lovers.

To any outsider, you must look like just another couple enjoying the day. Especially when Doflamingo did smile again at the revelation that it really was generous portions of lobster tail meat stuffed into those ravioli.

He’d ordered a large basket of it, or rather almost a bucket of the things to share. You had carried the basket while he and you both speared the individual pasta shells one after another with the forks they’d given you. Eating gladly at last as you’d walked and talked more together of unimportant things. Commenting about the city around you mostly, no more of those personal details just yet.

“You want a beer?” He’d asked you though once the ravioli was gone through later. Him even licking the remainder of that rich cream sauce from his fork before leaving it with the rest of the dirty plates and utensils that bus boys were continually clearing from the outdoor tables.

“I thought you were more the champagne, top shelf kind of guy.” You contended, referencing back to his previous teasing of you from that call weeks ago when these plans had first been laid.

“I am. Though I prefer the Cava from Dressrosa if we’re being specific.” He smirked, of course remembering that previous conversation as well. “But they have their own brewery here. It’s not that piss in a can shit you drink in Marineford I assure you.”

And so before you knew it, you were also sharing high dollar beers with the Heavenly Demon on this outdoor date together.

Adding alcohol to any fire was not the safest choice. But part of you really wanted to know what a buzzed Doflamingo could be like too. He’d already heard you plastered before. So there was no mystery there, though you swore you would not get that bad again anytime soon.

But the alcohol certainly helped maintain this growing comfort level as you’d seen him even perk up when one of the bands had started another song. One he apparently knew well as he started pulling you towards it.

“Oh, no. I am not going to dance right now. No way!” And not in heels like this surely as you tried to pull the opposite direction just as quickly.

“It’s a waltz, you idiot. There couldn’t be anything simpler.” He answered, one vice like hand still on yours as he drug you regardless. His other hand tilting up the rest of yet another bottle of their specialty beer as he downed it.

He chunked the bottle after, which landed so perfectly in a far off trashcan that you were certain it’d had some string assistance.

Which that was the first time he’d used his powers since meeting you today that you’d noticed. And maybe it made him remember how easy cheating with them would be as well.

“Don’t make me puppet you.” He’d threatened when you’d still resisted. “I’ll lead, all you have to do is move your feet. If you can fight me and fuck me, then you can dance with me too. It’s just in the timing, woman.”

But again…how did a pirate even know how to waltz? This, plus the swans, and the way he’d talked down to the people in that fancy clothing store, like it was just as natural as breathing to him. The puzzle pieces just weren’t fitting.

Because he could be so vulgar and unhinged in one moment, and yet moving with more authority and class than you’d seen from most royals in the next. Even though you did keep forgetting that he was also a king himself.

That title was just so hard to label him with in your own mind, when you’d all known him as only a pirate for far longer than the couple of years he’d now ruled Dressrosa.

But as he did take you into the area where the other couples were already dancing to that waltz, there was no denying that a real king likely would dance just this way as you felt his arm slip around your waist again.

You tried to copy him as he did lead with your hand raised in his other hand. But when you realized he was looking down at you as he easily went through the footsteps, you looked away in renewed awkwardness.

It was not like fighting him despite his suggestions. Because you were confident when fighting, even if losing. Here you just felt like a child trying not to step on his comparatively graceful feet.

You heard him sigh at your non commitment though, before he jerked his fingers up even without letting go of you and abruptly your feet did begin moving on their own.

“Stop it!” You fussed, trying not to let anyone else hear. Being controlled now was just as disconcerting as it’d been in Sabaody, even if the stakes felt lower here.

“Then quit half-assing this. I’ve seen you move those legs plenty of times. You’re far more coordinated than most. You’re just being stubborn.” But even with him chiding you and doing that work for you both then, he still had time to lean down and steal yet another kiss as you’d tried to bitch at him further.

Your additional protest was then muffled of course. But he didn’t stop there as that lewd tongue filled your mouth yet again. And even that wasn’t enough for him as he’d then withdrew it just to nip your own tongue sharply in his next movement.

Yet this time you did bite right back, enough to make a point at least. It was about all you could do after all, unable to move much otherwise below the neck with his parasite ability still in control.

Oh, but your returned aggression only backfired. Because he absolutely liked it, escalating things that much more as you felt your hand which had been on his back get pulled down and around against your will next. You were just a marionette again as your hand slid between the two of you instead and right over his crotch.

“Doflamingo.” You warned lowly, unable to stop your fingers from then cradling him just as he wanted.

“Doffy,” He corrected you this time though. “That’s what my family calls me.”

“I’m not your crew.” You reminded.

“I didn’t say that you were,” he agreed, even as he made your hand tighten on what was clearly the bulge of him beneath that fabric.

But he was smirking hungrily yet again as he purposefully twitched his cock within his pants just enough for you to feel it too. Your hold on him still concealed from the others the way he now had your bodies pressed together.

“Are you ready to head back to my villa now, woman? I think I’ve had enough of this restrictive suit for today.”

“Take off your strings and we’ll go.” You replied.

“Well, are you going to be a good girl and call me Doffy like I’ve asked while you take all of this?” He purred back, twitching his still mostly soft length against your hand again.

Your eyebrows raised. It felt weird to say, but you were sure it would be far from the worst thing he’d ever ask you to repeat.

“Yes, Doffy.” You submitted again on this at least, letting him have another win as you looked up at him expectantly.

His lips pulled back in a decidedly wicked response at that too before he’d kissed you roughly again and the strings fell back away.

“Come on then. I’ll show you the way home,” He breathed against your ear before yanking you back from the band and the other still dancing couples.

And as the two of you started to walk again, you were just realizing how dark it was already getting. Vaguely you remembered now about Scylla having shorter daylight hours than most islands.

Yet as you were still thinking that, a sudden boom and a flash of colors had you looking further up. And Doflamingo did as well as the next firework went off and then another and another.

They were pretty, but he’d already made up his mind of the only thing he wanted now as he pulled you along again.

You could watch it all though as he lead. You now looking up at him and the Scyllian architecture passing to the left and right under the continued pops and hisses of the multicolored fireworks.

More people were walking on every street, some pausing to watch the show above as music and scents came and went as you still passed different musicians and vendors even now. The scope of carnival here extending well beyond just the center of the city.

You realized how many days it really would have taken to see it all, more than you had time for before he finally brought you to the high gate of a villa which faced one of the canals.

He fished in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a key to unlock the gate which was nearly flush to a stone archway above, then guiding you through it beside him before shutting and locking it again.

Gas lanterns burned to light another cobblestone path beyond as you realized the villa was far deeper than it was wide. The entryway going back into a private courtyard with a fountain and what looked to be olive trees and even grape vines in planters. But you barely had time to appreciate any of it before he was pulling you up an outdoor staircase that went to the upper levels of the home from the outside.

“It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but say anyway as he’d opened a double set of glass doors into a long hallway.

“I thought you’d like it,” he did answer you though.

It even smelled good you realized. There was probably a kitchen downstairs. But then he’d opened another door after he’d lead you down the hall and you realized you were already standing in what had to be the master bedroom as he shut the door back behind you both.

The room was gently lit with a couple of oil lanterns already burning. And you very briefly recognized your own duffel bag on the floor near a dresser. There was another large set of glass doors already opened onto a different balcony as well, the curtains on those doors shifting in the cool breeze coming in.

The scent of the ocean carried on the wind, and the sounds of the city as well. There was a table and chairs on that new balcony. It looked both elegant and cozy all at once.

But that was the last attention you were able to give the outside for now as you felt Doflamingo’s arms close around your waist soon after.

You took a breath, knowing he was done waiting. Yet as much you wanted this too, your body still remembered the pain of him. You couldn’t help but be nervous as you felt his mouth bear down on your neck all over again.

And his teeth too, but he didn’t bite hard. Not yet anyway before his hands were already deftly undoing his tie. The red fabric hit the floor, his black suit jacket not far behind it.

At about this point you finally began helping. And when he’d realized your fingers were now working on his vest buttons, he went to his pants instead.

He was wearing a real belt this time through the black slacks as he unhooked it. But he didn’t bother to slip the belt from the loops as he was already unbuttoning his pants soon after.

You had gotten his vest out of the way as he slid it off. His lips were back over yours too as he started moving you both towards the bed.

He was bent over enough to kiss you all the while as you were reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. And yes, you finally had to admit that he wasn’t entirely wrong when he’d said how much easier his normal attire was to get past.

All dressed up like this, he looked ridiculously good. But it was so many more layers to deal with. And yet it did make the payoff all the more gratifying as you finally freed the last button and your hands immediately ran under his then open shirt.

He made a pleasured sound against your mouth as you mapped out his abdominal muscles and then his chest while he remained in your reach. You bid him to slide the entire shirt off next. Which he did.

And finally it was then your turn to push him. Even if you were smaller than him, you were strong relative to your size. And you knew how to move larger opponents around, now leading Doflamingo by the mouth, and turning him so his back was to the bed instead. Just before you shoved him down onto the mattress in on one fluid movement. It was actually made easier by his height, for the leverage that created for you. Like felling a tree really.

Of course he was allowing it, but you highly doubted his other female playthings ever moved him around roughly this way at all.

But you needed him laying down as soon as he could be. Because once his back hit the bed, it was much easier to reach everything that way. Even as you pulled away to get a good look at him laying below you afterward.

At last you could see him fully shirtless. Something that shouldn’t have been as big a deal to you as it was.

Tight, lightly tanned skin, lean and muscular all the way through as you moved back in. You pushed your high heels off, crawling forward onto the bed to kiss down his flat stomach while you felt his muscles tensing beneath your lips.

As you’d thought, there was not a scar to be seen on this man. He wasn’t a coward, but he knew which fights were worth it and which were not. You’d heard he could repair and stitch himself back together to a degree as well with his strings.

That likely accounted for the lack of even smaller scars as you felt him raise his hips for you.

He was sliding off his pants too now. You backed off a little, giving him the room to toss them. No underwear as usual. But he pulled off his socks too, throwing them wherever his shoes now were.

And with that the king of Dressrosa was now fully nude beneath you on these silk sheets. Already fully hard and bared to you except for that red mask still covering his eyes.

You took in this alluring sight as his lips remained parted, breath coming in shorter pants for you.

He wanted so badly to be fucked by you. Somehow that thought pulsed deep into your brain, as strange as it felt to think this when you knew that in pure physical strength alone, he was absolutely the better of you two.

You’d argue that in a prolonged fight, you’d still be creative and fast enough to give him real grief and pain. But that wasn’t the point right now.

“Doffy,” you tried that nickname he’d requested earlier, lowering yourself to begin kissing down to his waist once more. You knew what you wanted to do for him now. You just didn’t know if he could behave enough not to hurt you.

He groaned softly at each new touch, clearly enjoying the attention as your mouth kept getting lower and lower.

His thighs he spread so easily too as you massaged them with your hands. “Can you control yourself for me, Doffy? I’ll use my mouth if you can do that for me, baby.” You promised him, trying to work in both the nicknames he’d seemed to like the most. “But you can’t choke me. I can’t finish you if you just choke me...you realize how big you are compared to me, don’t you?”

You had no idea if this would work. But you were willing to try. You did want to try.

You wanted it badly.

“I know.” He panted a little more, chest moving up and down as you saw that precum already forming on his tip as you took his shaft into your hand.

You could see his thigh muscles tensing too, as you now stroked him before blowing just the slightest bit of air across his tip as he took in another sharp breath.

But you weren’t much for teasing, kissing the head of that terribly large cock right after as he shifted almost desperately. Your tongue followed behind as you licked the sensitive underside at the bottom edge of the head. Flicking it with your tongue really the same way as he had once done to your clit that day in Mariejois.

And oh, he definitely liked that as you heard a quiet curse escape him and felt one of his hands moving down into your hair.

Yet you still knew the danger. If he tried to deep throat you, you’d probably puke honestly. His length would be far beyond the threshold of your gag reflex.

“Easy…please,” you reminded him. You did keep one fist around the base of his shaft, almost like a stop to keep from taking him too deep. But stroking his base with that hand as you did take the rest of him past your lips then.

You wouldn’t say you were an expert by any means. But you’d done this before. You knew what Kuzan and Smoker had both liked. You had to imagine it was universal to a degree as you tried to suck Doflamingo now while bobbing up and down enough to be somewhat satisfying without choking yourself.

A fine line as you did gag once or twice, trying to find that edge as his hips did start to move, reflexively pressing further into your sucking.

You reached under to take a hold of his sack too. He was just inviting to be touched anywhere you chose as he kept his legs wide open for you.

When you massaged that heavy sack as well, then giving them a light squeeze, he full out moaned for you at the bit of over stimulation.

That was a surprise for how much it made you react too, his sounds making you so very wet. No outlet for you yet, still trapped in the tight dress he’d bought you as you just kept sucking him as intensely as you could.

His hand had tightened almost painfully too in your hair by then, in tandem with the harder and harder his hips were trying to move against your mouth.

“(Y/N)…” he groaned again as he thrust raggedly. “…I want you to swallow me. Go ahead…I’ll get hard over and over for you. We aren’t even close to done...”

His back was even arching a little as you did comply to try and force him over the edge already. Kinder than you had to be when he obviously wanted this first release as soon as possible.

So you started licking that sensitive spot at the base of the head once more, giving his balls another light squeeze too for good measure.

The pirate’s breath shuddered with the additional flicks of your tongue and he groaned again as you plunged your mouth down onto his shaft once more after.

Your one hand stayed around his sack, but the other now gripped against his hip. Which he responded to that too, liking the bit of pain as your fingernails dug in for purchase.

He was humping upward, his dick riding in your mouth as he made sounds of even further desperation.

“I wanted this…suck me harder…” He was still panting as you saw his other hand fisting tightly into the bed sheets.

And you did use your mouth even rougher at that, your eyes flitting up to see what you could of him. He was biting his bottom lip again. His jaw clenched as you saw his adam’s apple jump when he swallowed.

A tremble ran through Doflamingo’s legs as he pulled them up, his thighs flexing before his back arched again and you knew what was imminent before he finally let go within your mouth.

Even if you hadn’t been touched between your own thighs yet, you actually felt your channel briefly contracting too, almost like a contact high for how much pleasure he was clearly experiencing.

And you did swallow as much of that salty heat as you could. Of course some of his seed couldn’t help but escape you too though as it ran back out along the length of him, and you coughed a couple times while pulling back to regather yourself. He’d thrust up deeper right as he’d cum, just as you’d expected, finally jabbing you hard as you’d had to fight that instinct to gag his ejaculate right back out of your throat.

And even in the resulting haze of his orgasm, he still noticed when you’d pulled away from him even that much. His arm reaching out to grab you just as quickly, pulling you down against his still heaving chest as he grinned up at your cum stained lips.

Doflamingo was absolutely his own type of man, always reminding you of this too as he kissed you without hesitation then, the remnants of his own arousal not bothering him in the slightest.

“You’re such a good girl,” he purred in that special tone of his as well, kissing you again in even further approval before his long tongue ran out to clean your lips and chin for you in just two quick licks.

The gesture was weird, but truly affectionate in a way you would have never been able to explain to a normal person.

And he laid his head back afterward, steadying his breathing for another long moment as he stroked your back and down to your still clothed ass.

The sun had fully set now, darkening the bedroom even more save for the firelight of those oil lanterns while the two of you lay there quietly for several more minutes.

You thought he was just wanting that brief recovery period, if he’d been serious at least about getting hard for you again soon enough to continue. Even a man like him was somewhat restrained by the basic rules of biology after all. It’d take a bit for his weapon to reload so to speak.

But you realized he was actually laying there thinking too in the new dark before he started something that was not at all what you would have expected right now.

“(Y/N)…I want to see you.” Doflamingo said abruptly, sitting up in the bed then as he grabbed you by your wrists to pull you up with him. You were now sitting in front of the warlord on the bed, his legs around you as he looked down at you.

You still didn’t understand what he meant at first of course, making him have to clarify as his hands tightened more against your wrists. “Take off my mask, (Y/N).” He tried ordering next instead. “It’s too dark for it now…I want to see you all the way. And if you’re staying with me, then you’re going to sleep beside me too. I want this off tonight.”

Your own eyes had long since adjusted to the lantern light, you watching him with a little disbelief.

But despite his words sounding confident, you could see his mouth was now tense. No mocking grin at all as your fingertips did touch the sides of his mask, albeit cautiously when he pulled your hands closer.

Of course you had wondered many times what he hid beneath his usual glasses. Being intimate with a man without ever seeing his entire face was a bit of a mindfuck in it’s own right. And yet, that secrecy was also just part of who he was. Behind a mask of one kind or another was the only way you’d ever known him.

The sudden request had you very nervous too. Because it felt like what seeing a new partner nude for the very first time was like in a normal relationship. But for Doflamingo, this was actually a more vulnerable situation than even his long cock just resting soft against you in this moment.

And what would happen if you somehow didn’t react how he wanted you to when finally seeing him?

“Are you sure?” You heard yourself asking, even as he was the one that still held your fingers against the edges of that mask.

“Yes. I’m sure.” And even as he answered that, it did sound like just the smallest hint of uncharacteristic stress had finally entered his tone.

He wasn’t going to tell you again though, not without getting angry you knew. So you did your best to keep your hands steady as you slipped your fingertips beneath the mask to begin peeling it gently away from his skin.

And as it did come off, you felt you weren’t allowed to look away. But the first you saw of that new skin was both his eyes shut defensively as the mask pulled fully away.

He did have eyelashes was the first mundane detail you noticed. Like an actual human…and thin blond eyebrows that were tightly lowered then just before his right eye did open to make true eye contact with you for the very first time.

And even in the lantern light, you could tell the iris there was a deep shade of red. Cautious, maybe even concerned in its focus now as he tried to determine your reaction.

But he was still hiding the left eye, keeping it closed as you dared to let your fingers stroke down his temple and cheek in what you hoped was a soothing gesture.

Because there on the other eyelid was finally the flaw he’d been concealing. Something that marred what would have otherwise been an entire body’s worth of perfection. You could see the thick scar tissue over that closed eye.

The strike through the smiling face and one eye of his jolly roger now made all the more sense in the world too as you finally put two and two together.

“Doffy.” You called gently up to him. And you got to see his right eye react just to that softness of his name from your lips.

He wanted to be comforted. This was obviously something he almost never showed anyone. Was it that difficult for him?

And gods, if that thought didn’t do something to you as well as you ran your fingertips across his lips next.

“Look at me, Doffy…it’s okay.” You still kept this going as your heart moved into your throat. It shouldn’t feel this different already.

But he did respond positively, kissing your fingertips just as that left eye finally opened.

And to your surprise, that eye wasn’t missing at all. You’d expected the worst, based on the damage to the eyelid. But his left eye was actually intact, even tracking you in tandem with the right. He could move it.

But could he see from it?

The iris of the left eye was different. Slightly larger than the right. Possibly once red too, but too difficult to tell now in the cloudy white that mostly obscured it.

Who would have ever been so brazen or lucky enough to get that precise of a debilitating hit on the Heavenly Demon?

And did they live to tell the tale?

But that story wasn’t really what you cared about in this moment either as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him now. That strange warmth just building and building as your mind tried to understand that this truly was still the same person in front of you.

He was starting to suck your fingers slightly now too, already tired of just kissing them alone as they remained near his mouth.

Yet you couldn’t contain what you finally said after seeing his true face for just this long.

“You really are gorgeous.” You breathed even as his teeth had now started to nip your fingertips.

And you’d gotten to see both his eyes widen slightly at that sincere declaration. His mouth pausing its toying with your fingers as he looked down into your own eyes again.

He looked confused if just for that moment, unsure even before he finally pulled your wrists enough to take your hands back away from his face.

But for once the warlord couldn’t find the matching words. He just looked at you, something new and unidentifiable briefly in those eyes before he let his body do the talking for him.

His mouth was back over yours so quickly. So entirely needful as the taste of him filled you again.

He was unzipping your dress too, but with such a fervor that you thought it might rip before he’d slid it from off your shoulders.

Your own mask he reached up to pull away too. But not near as gently as you’d done for him. It stung a little as he’d yanked it off.

The same was done with your bra. His nimble fingers unhooking it with ease. The mask, and the dress, and the bra joining your shoes on the floor then.

He left your jewelry on, either liking the aesthetic, or just too impatient to deal with it as he’d now been the one forcing you onto your back on the mattress.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, yanking it roughly from your hips and off of your legs too before he was then leaned back in to start licking a wet trail straight down your chest.

You were essentially along for the ride at this point. But you were able to grip into that short blonde hair along his scalp as his head came back up to bite one of your breasts.

The sound you made in response simply encouraged him of course as he did it again even harder to the other one.

But just when you thought you were going to have to engage some armament coating for self preservation’s sake, he started sucking your chest instead.

You couldn’t stop your resulting gasp at that new sensation when he worked one of your nipples far more carefully in his mouth while it hardened at the attention.

And now you could see the intensity as his eyes glanced up at you while he squeezed your other breast beneath his hand.

Making true eye contact while being ravaged by him put things on a whole new level. And he still didn’t give you time to accept this at all before you felt his other hand move between your legs almost simultaneously.

He went back to sucking and biting your breasts as he thumbed your clit hard, making your thighs try to slam closed as you writhed beneath him.

Of course, closing anything to him was no longer allowed. So both his hands were below your waist then as he grabbed your knees to force your legs back open before you felt him release one hand again to push his fingers right inside you once more.

He was finger fucking you immediately too, continuing what he had started at the church as you whined desperately.

“I’m going to take this. Again and again, you understand? I’ve waited too long.” You heard him growl as he’d risen back up to straddle you. Your hands were then forced back above you as he grabbed your wrists again next. “But if you’re good, we’ll keep using lube each time.”

And as he said this, he’d let go of you again just enough for his strings to pull open the drawer of the nearby nightstand. Another string lifted a small bottle out of that drawer and into his hand.

He was already fully hard again as he’d poured some of that bottle’s contents into one of his palms. Then spreading that liquid entirely over his waiting cock before the bottle dropped back onto the nightstand.

Even if you’d said no, it wouldn’t have mattered to him. You could only brace yourself, yet fighting to relax all the same before Doflamingo had forced his then freshly slick cock past your entrance once again.

He was already panting, his eyes absolutely full of that yearning for you as he immediately started to thrust.

Even all the lube in the world couldn’t let you stretch fast enough though as you cried out in return.

“That’s it…come on, scream for me. Scream for your man.” He breathed out regardless, that suction already starting as you could hear the additional wetness of the lube making those god awful sounds through the room as his hips pumped in and out against you.

“Bastard!” You arched and cried out again as you fought the pain of that pressure, the bed protesting as well as his weight shook it.

But every time your legs tried to close around his hips, he’d just grab you by the thighs and force you open again though.

After about the third time, he dug his fingers into that flesh of your legs, enough to pierce it slightly.

“I want to watch this wet cunt while I fuck it. So keep these goddamned thighs open.” He briefly scolded.

You glared up at him, but that only drew out an additional nasty smile from the pirate as he angled his hips further at that, changing the pressure to scrape more against that special, sensitive spot inside of you.

As you moaned immediately too, he was looking so smug again. “Are you going to cum for me this time, love?”

And in the pain of it all, you still caught that slight difference in his wording.

Love.

But he didn’t stop there. “I want you to. Cum for me, (Y/N).”

And as he said this, he was still pounding in and out of you, sometimes hitting against your cervix, sometimes not. He knew the farthest depth he could fit by now, but that didn’t mean he never overshot that point in the haze of his own pleasure.

You felt like you were burning up too. Even if he was doing all the work right now by his own volition. The bedroom smelled like sex and sweat. That change so fast as you did feel your muscles trying to contract again.

“Then rub me. If you want me to cum…” you suddenly had found your voice again.

You saw his eyes go back to your face at those words, he really had been watching you stretch around him down there just as he’d said he would.

“Rub what?” He asked darkly though, wanting to hear you say it.

“Rub my clit,” you replied a little more irritably.

“Beg for it.” He just countered right back.

You flinched when he hit your cervix again and you thought that time had really been on purpose.

But clearly your pride still exceeded your discomfort as you did refuse to beg for your own release. Not yet.

And he was fine with that too.

Abruptly Doflamingo had pulled all the way out of you before roughly flipping you onto your stomach as he got on his knees behind you and pulled your ass back up to him.

“I guess you’re declining another shot of the lube then.” He taunted, just before plunging his cock into your aching channel all over again.

It was still plenty wet naturally, but the lube absolutely would have helped as he started thrusting desperately into you all over again.

And now it did feel wholly animalistic, you on all fours momentarily before he’d reached forward to shove you back down into the bed by the back of your neck.

Just your ass still up as his pelvis humped it like a bitch being bred by her mate then.

And the sounds he made as he did so. He was fully consumed in that moment as his hand tightened even further on your neck from behind.

Either the spine or the throat was always what he went for when he sought to better control you.

But the worst thing was that you still felt yourself contracting anyway around him. Body trying to coax his second release from him whether or not you had even had your first.

You were as sweaty as him too from just the intensity of the body heat and the peak of arousal that made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.

Even when it hurt, you were still keeping up on your knees for him too, letting this man continue to ride you even as he kept you gasping with your chest and neck pinned into the mattress.

“That’s right…you love this don’t you?” His voice almost sounded close to breaking then in response to your own sounds.

He slammed in even harder again for emphasis. “This is all for you….I did wait for you. I haven’t fucked anyone. So take what you’ve earned.”

Your expression still showed surprise at this confession, even while it was difficult to look back at him as he finally orgasmed again and you felt his body shudder harshly before his seed filled you to the brim.

You could feel him still trembling, not hiding that weakness at all either as he kept himself sheathed inside you to survive what seemed like even more than one additional orgasm afterward for him.

That sticky overflow did drip from your folds and down onto the bed too as he pumped his hips slowly a few extra times just for good measure.

It was as if he absolutely didn’t want you to miss a single drop of him.

And you mostly didn’t even as he stayed inside, just letting go of your neck in favor of your waist as he pulled you all the way down into the bed, laying on your sides then with him still breathing rather raggedly behind you.

You felt him hugging you to him. That grip still wholly possessive as he rested a few minutes again.

And you didn’t mind the new silence, fully appreciating that cool night air still coming through the open balcony doors as it ghosted across you both.

But after a while, he must have wanted to look at you. Because he at last slid his softening length back out before again forcing you to turn. This time the two of you facing one another as his arm went tight right back around you.

The Heavenly Demon actually nuzzled you then, before you felt him chuckle.

“I’m still burning up, woman. What poison are you made of anyway?”

And you could see that look of almost exhausted contentment in his eyes as he looked you over.

He was actually sated. If only for this moment as you couldn’t resist reaching back up to touch his uncovered face. He’d allow you almost anything right now, you knew that instinctively too.

And he did turn his face further into your renewed touch, letting you pet him as his eyes softened with that rare comfort.

He really was beautiful like this. Though you knew no one else would ever believe it.

But you didn’t care about anyone else right now. Not at all as you brought your lips together again to kiss him gently.

The type of kiss you wondered if he even understood the meaning of.

Whether he did or not though, he still liked it. And he returned that softness before a loud pop from outside had you both looking towards the open balcony doors again.

You stared as suddenly the bedroom was awash with color. More fireworks beginning again outside as you realized you were truly smiling.

“What?” You heard Doflamingo ask, voice still tired as he put his head back against you. “It’s just noise.”

But it was far more than just that as you still watched the multiple hues flaring across the room one after another.

It was such a similar effect actually to that sunlight coming through the stained glass in the church earlier today. It made you realize that you’d always thought your fantasy of sanctuary would only ever look a certain way.

But that wasn’t true. Because this place was becoming a sanctuary too. Somehow, someway, you did feel needed as this man gripped you harder when you hadn’t yet answered him.

“It’s just pretty.” You finally offered, unable to really put this to words of course. Your eyes met his again as you finished though. “It’s what I wanted.”

He made a sound at that, putting one long leg over your hip as if to wrap you up even further against him in this makeshift nest.

“Agreed.” Was all Doflamingo said as his attention never left you then. And that spoke volumes.

Because neither of you were talking about the fireworks any longer. It was all about this new feeling. Something that you feared not being able to carry on without again.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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