#valkyrie fic

[maximotts]

𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔡𝔲𝔱𝔶 ☾ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔶𝔯𝔦𝔢

pairing ❦ king!Valkyrie x female handmaiden!reader

summary ❦ one kiss and you were hers. Now in New Asgard, you owed your King a great deal for your brand new life; thankfully, you adored every way she found to show your appreciation

warnings ❦ smut, 18+ only content; strap-ons, pillow humping, innocence kink, degradation but not intense, face fucking, humiliation if you squint, submission, name calling but reader knows Val cares about her

words ❦ 1.9k

a/n ❦ @crescent-witch requested a Val fic, I wanted to write a Val fic, now king Val is finally here! Mildly debating turning this into a series of things because just.. yeaaah King Valkyrie

kinktober masterlist.

This song and dance though, this show of power in her possessive grip about your waist contradicting the gentle way she looked at you — a prize instead of property— it only made you fall harder. If you were to crash and burn, you had a gut feeling she’d catch you.

How would you feel about a job reassignment, precious? 

New Asgard lived up to its name; obviously in origins, but for you it was all new shops, views, and people. One person in particular was the reason you’d wound up here, plucked from your lavish home in Omnipotence City under Zeus’ court, whisked away the instant her warrior blood stained lips met the back of your hand. Being smitten was alright, she wasn’t your first crush; it was when she returned despite the banishment she’d surely been dealt that your heart began to flare. 

She’d beckoned you over from her place in the shadows with one commanding finger, shrouded figure somehow invisible to everyone but you, her target. You remembered the multitude of questions that’d bounced around your skull, wanting to ask who she was just to hide the reality that as soon as some maid uttered her name you’d poured through every bit of information you could get your hands on, trying to uncover the secrets of this alluring Valkyrie. It didn’t matter, she’d shushed you with that same finger now against your lips, every thought you’d hoarded for weeks since your first encounter thrown out the window. She tugged you those last few inches closer, fully engulfed in her dark hiding spot and overwhelmed with just how solid her body felt against your own, toned arm keeping your front tight against her chest.

There was no doubt in your mind she could’ve taken you at will, snatched you while you passed and rode off on her Pegasus without having to bat one seductive eye; it’d happened before to women around here. This song and dance though, this show of power in her possessive grip about your waist contradicting the gentle way she looked at you — a prize instead of property— it only made you fall harder. If you were to crash and burn, you had a gut feeling she’d catch you.

How would you feel about a job reassignment, precious? 

Now you were her… something. You’d heard whispers of ‘King’s Consort’ but never asked. She called, you came; you wished for anything, she provided; it was nameless, but you had no complaints. Your king went above and beyond, far more attentive than any person you’d experienced in your young life… so you had no qualms doing whatever she asked.

Valkyrie was a busy woman, always going from one meeting to another, leaving her exhausted many nights when she finally joined you in her chambers. Occasionally it made you sad, bored without her presence, and as much as she’d teased you about it in your short time with her, she hated seeing you pout. Today she’d put her events on hold, promising to spend the entire day with you— she’d neglected to mention she still had a mountain of paperwork to work through. 

It would’ve upset you had she not summoned you to her desk after an hour, thumbs rubbing into your soft hips while she playfully nibbled at your belly through your thin dress. If she kept up, your knees would buckle and she knew that; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d held your entire weight effortlessly. “Sit with me, buttercup. I want something pretty to look at.” 

So melted by her smooth words, you didn’t realize where Val placed you until you were craning your neck upwards, sat between her legs on a thick cushion she’d clearly already anticipated using. Confusion rose as she stroked your cheeks, her smug grin only serving to trouble you further. “I don’t want to sit down here. It’s cold…”

“But you look perfect down there, just right,” If you wanted to pout, you couldn’t, her thumb swiping over your lips before pressing past them like it belonged there the whole time. The other fingers weren’t a necessity, you’d been dutifully keeping your mouth open, but they held you in place while her free hand set about inspecting your mouth, running along your teeth and inside your cheeks, Val’s smile ever wider. “I know just what I want to try putting in that darling mouth of yours.” 

You didn’t have time to ask before she was pulling away, wet fingers unbuckling her pants and revealing her tucked away strap. Like clockwork your mouth watered, all too familiar with the pleasures that toy brought. You moved to stand, but she forced you down by your shoulders, meeting the pillow again with a dull oof. “But-”

Val shot you a warning look before you could complete your whiny sentence, an expression you’d learned to heed well. “All I need you to do is open wide. Not to speak, but to listen.” 

You nodded eagerly, never having had such a thing, but willing to try if only to please your new king. Her chair pushed forward, crowding you until your view was only her clothed legs and the intimidating length in front, her hand finding the back of your head before you could move away. 

Taking it was a slow process because Val made it one, reminding you the whole time she could shove it to the back of your throat as easy as one thrust of her hips, but she never did. She was steady, unwavering as she made you take the whole thing despite how you balled your fists atop your thighs, whimpering whenever you were worried you’d choke. 

You didn’t and for that, she was proud. Inch by inch, your anxieties melted away, slowly but surely entranced by the slight weight on your tongue. You startled only because you could feel Val pulling back and, unready to give up your newfound ease, you let out a somewhat pitiful whine. 

“Oh you like having a mouthful of my cock, sweetheart?” Given the same enthusiastic agreement, Val pushed back in, faster this time, but you didn’t complain. She really shouldn’t have waited so long to do this. “Think you can sit there and look pretty while I fuck your face?” 

The question burned your cheeks, her hips already sliding back and forth before you had a chance to answer. It was yes, of course, but she couldn’t find it in her to wait. Not when you were moaning around her strap each time you took her in. “Just like that, you’re doing so well..”

Being mindless was easier than you’d imagined, letting your thoughts drift while your lover used your mouth for her filthy choice of distraction from work. Besides, it was hard to focus on much else past imagining Val fucking you like this elsewhere hopefully soon. The telltale tug in your lower belly had been there since she first called you over, tightening steadily as she fawned over you, coaxed you into whatever this was now. You were always like this, helplessly aroused by not only your submission, but how well it was received— and Val was always so very vocal in her approval.

“I wish you could see how gorgeous you look right now. So willing to let me do whatever I want… my perfect angel, all for me, isn’t that right?” Again with those words, striking you in your vulnerable state and making you squirm. She didn’t say a thing about it until your eyes began to close, mind wandering selfishly and depriving her of your attention. “Ah ah, eyes on me, sweet thing.” 

She tugged at your hair and you groaned, eyes shooting open as she forced you forward. Your shift for balance was frantic, hands flat in front of your bent legs as Val held you in place. It was just a little awkward so you moved your hips and— there it was. That one bit of friction you’d been needing for so long. You pushed against the cushion experimentally, testing your accidental discovery. The fabric was rough on your bare sex, having forgone undergarments when you’d heard Valkyrie intended on spending the day with you, but you liked it. You’d heard of using pillows before, a few of your friends whispering the act to one another like a sacred secret, but you’d never tried… now you cursed your past self for denying you so long. 

You moved in time with Val’s hips as much as you could, the fist in your hair still unrelenting in its grip. It was intoxicating, the combination of the desperation with which you rut against the object between your legs and the quick pace of her strap fucking your now aching jaw. You felt used and filthy, like a wanton whore who’d accept any treatment… and you adored every second of it.

“You’re getting off on having my cock down your throat? I bet if I lifted your skirt I’d see you absolutely drenching that poor pillow. Naughty girl,” Her teasing was punctuated with harsh thrusts, making you choke where you’d been so calm earlier, now your short breaths wouldn’t allow it. Your legs spread further, sinking down until the pressure on your clit was almost too much to bear, but the ache ever spreading through your core far outweighed the strain of your thighs. “I knew I’d picked the right one, you look so soft and shy, but you’re really just a depraved little thing.”

Protesting was useless, cries muffled by her intrusion and the frantic jerk of your hips giving you away. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as you struggled keeping up with her pace as well as your own, muscles tired and heavy as your orgasm teased its arrival, but your lover was unwilling to give you any reprieve. “This dalliance was supposed to be for my benefit, a quick distraction from work, but… you make such an ethereal sight, I could have you like this all day.” 

The mere thought was enough to do you in, your beloved king using you as she pleased, uncaring how tired you were or how many times you came from humping a silly pillow, as long as she could watch your demeaning display— you couldn’t dismiss your needs a second longer.

You were so close, legs clamping around the cushion, shaky hands reaching to brace themselves on firmly planted calves, air caught in your throat threatening to suffocate, when you were ripped away. In your shock, you barely registered your back hitting the thick rug behind you, but when Val’s tongue filled the emptiness your mouth suffered from, you melted into her effortlessly. “I was being good! I wanted to cum…” 

It took the older woman a while to understand what you’d said, deeply occupied with covering your caged in, prone form with as many marks your skin could handle. In her defense, making out your voice was infinitely harder amidst the meek whimpers and pleas you uttered. When she did find it in her to separate from where you lay, you caught sight of her blown pupils and disheveled trousers, possessive hands roaming and groping whatever parts of you they could reach, and prayed to the gods to grant you the willpower to survive her when she’d become this ravenous.

“My sweet, darling little buttercup…you were so much more than good, I want to thank you,” she moved forward just to watch her strap slide through your swollen cunt, hips rising to meet her and unabashed in how exposed it left you. The time for work was done; it’d be a miracle if she let you up from the floor before the sun set. “If you need my cock so badly, well, I’m nothing if not a gracious king.”

#valkyrie x reader #king valkyrie #valkyrie x fem!reader #valkyrie marvel #valkyrie fic #valkyrie smut #marvel imagine #marvel fic #motts writes. #maximotts

[fluffyprettykitty]

Discipline

Pairing: Brunnhilde + Jane Foster x female reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 920 words

Outline: What happens when Jane and Brunnhilde return to their chambers only to find you with your fingers buried deep inside you?

Warnings: sub/dom dynamics, power play, face sitting, finger fucking, overstimulation, pet names, objectification, scissoring, not beta read, if I missed anything lmk, my brain is a little mush lately!

Author’s Note: I felt like some smut for these wonderful ladies in honor of thor's release today, lemme know what you think and if you'd like more!

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts​

Main Masterlist ・❥・Valkyrie Masterlist ・❥・Jane Foster Masterlist

NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

"Do you think she can handle it?" The black-haired woman asks the other one, worry evident in her voice.

"She's so eager to please she will make sure she will." The blonde hair winks at her and presses your legs down towards the mattress. In response, you huff and squirm trying to move your legs away but Brunnhilde only slaps them apart.

"Don’t disrespect your king.” She warns you and scoffs. 

“Be a good girl for us, come on. You are the one who wanted this anyway," Jane reminds you, her fingers brushing against your thighs softly. All you can do is whine again spreading your legs apart of your own volition, and sitting prettily waiting for whatever was next. 

"Please…" you mewl squirming your legs trying to close them but Jane held them tightly. Her big muscles shone brightly against the night light. 

"Is too much. " You shout and your whole body shakes to the rhythm of your fifth orgasm. Was an hour ago when they had pinned you down for disobeying them. But it wasn't your fault they were away so much on business and whatnots. What were you supposed to do when your pussy ached so? You needed some release and they walked inside the chambers battle clad in just the right moment to torture you and thus the punishment began. 

Jane and Brunnhilde were co-ruling Asgard together and they had been together for some time. Yet one fateful night, one night that truly felt like any else, you didn't expect them to show interest in you, just another humble maid. One beckoning stare from Jane and another from Brunnhilde and there you were their new shiny toy. That was six months ago now you were on their bed, naked as the day of light and crying from too much pleasure. 

"If you wanted to cum so bad what else is there for us to do than to make sure you won't stop cumming, huh?" 

“We only want to please you, sweet one, what else can we do? Look at how eager your poor pussy is. I don’t think she is even close to enough yet.” 

“Think after this we bound to teach her some manners or bet yet tie up her legs and never let her cum again without us. What do you think, baby?”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” Jane beams at her wife and looks at you with a darkened stare. You moan again, your clit now oversensitive as you watched Brunnhilde proceeding to remove her armor. Without further ado, she lands her pussy on yours and begins wildly riding you. 

"You're nothing but my sex pet, pretty one, did you really think you're even allowed to make your own decisions? No, you thought wrong. Time for you to do whatever I tell you to do." 

Jane lets go of your legs and as if they have an unspoken agreement she removes her clothes as well and proceeds to sit on your face, her body facing Brunnhilde's. The sound of them loudly making out moaning at your touches while you were struggling to lick Jane made you even hornier. Tonight you'd truly learn just how much you could take. A glance at the golden mirror next to the bed held the most perfect picture for you. You are perfectly planted by your two lovers holding on to one another. Breasts brushed over each other as they used and worked your body to their pleasure. You were nothing but their pet and you were very glad to be so. 

"Harder!" Jane yells at Valkyrie and all she does is drill your body to the mattress riding you with incredible ferocity. Is clear who was calling the shots but this was only evident inside the confidence of these royal champers. Outside, they were both vicious strick co-rulers. Brunnhilde extends an arm to Jane's pussy rubbing her feverishly, a favor Brunnhilde returns immediately. While the blonde woman was riding your face the way she needed you to not giving you a lot of space to breathe. They loved using you, working your body as if it was nothing but a toy and nothing more than a golden coveted object. It was everything you ever wanted and more. You spend your days and nights close to their chambers or on the rare ocassion bound to their tents when they went on a trip. 

They had a pact that they would always cum together which you found endearing. You found out about this deal early on, and it surprisingly warmed your heart. Jane is the one to cum first as per usual which only makes Brunnhilde break out into a thunderous moan screaming and crying out her name. They loved repeating each other names like that, moaning and screaming as if to establish dominance over one another. 

Satisfied in their pleasure they both use your body for as long as they need to. 

“Time for a snack.” The black-haired woman says happily and points to you which makes the blonde woman nod positively in response. 

They crush their lips against each other, hungrily kissing until they both kneel in front of your pussy and together start assaulting you with their tongues making you cum once again. You should have known you would have been the snack yet sometimes your brain got really hazy cause of them. 

If all punishments ended up like this maybe you'd be naughty more often.

for future updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications! my inbox and my requests are open :D

#valkyrie #valkyrie x reader #valkyrie x jane #valkyrie smut #jane foster x reader #jane foster #jane foster smut #brunnhilde x reader #brunnhilde x you #brunnhilde #brunnhilde smut #brunnhilde the valkyrie #brunhilde x reader #valkyrie marvel #valkyrie imagine #valkyrie fic #love and thunder #jane x valkyrie #selenewrites

[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 7- Toys

Valkyrie x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 965

Warnings- smut (18+ only), established relationship, slight voyeurism, masturbation, toys

Notes- Valkyrie my love!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one too!! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​ (and also thank you for your input with this one too)!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

“Sorry I’m so late, love,” Valkyrie walked through the doorway of your shared bedroom, “Meetings ran late and you would not believe how stupid some of these countries leaders are…” she stopped in her tracks when she saw you spread out on the bed with just a sheet to cover your body. 

You had a glazed over expression on your face, and you looked like you rushed to cover yourself up. One arm pinned the sheet to your body while the other was hidden underneath. Even through the cover, Valkyrie saw the way your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and her skin heated up as she studied the outline of your figure through the sheet.

“It’s alright babe,” your voice was soft yet strained, “I must have fallen asleep…”

A smirk lit up her face, “Is that so?” her voice dropped as she swaggered over to the bed and ghosted her fingers over your body, “So I wouldn’t find any surprises under the sheet now, would I?”

There was a challenge in her eyes, and it made you swallow hard, “N-no…” You didn’t even convince yourself with that reply.

“Oh come now, doll,” Valkyrie purred, “Why don’t you be a good girl for me and show me what I’ve been missing today?”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as she ran her hand up your leg and cupped at your core through the sheet. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your head down onto the pillow as Valkyrie teased the toy that sat nestled inside you. 

“Val…” you breathed as you slowly rocked your hips in the same rhythm as she cupped at your cunt.

“Look at me,” she whispered.

Instantly, you blinked your eyes open, too weak against her to deny anything she asked of you. As your eyes met hers, you let out a gasp at how sexy she looked in the perfectly tailored suit she still wore. Her gaze burned into you, and without another word, you slowly pushed the sheet down to reveal your naked body inch by inch.

Just like Valkyrie liked to tease you, you decided to tease her back and moved the sheet down agonizingly slowly.  First, you revealed your collarbones, then your breasts, then your stomach. With every new part of you exposed, you saw her swallow hard and fight to keep herself in control. As much as she was your weakness, you were hers.

“Baby you’re so beautiful,” she whispered as he took her hand away and pulled the sheet the rest of the way down to reveal your pussy with a clear dildo stuff inside. “Very beautiful,” her voice dropped as she positioned herself between your parted legs. 

“Val… Please…”

She smirked again and it made your pussy clench around the toy, “Since you asked so nicely, dear…”

Valkyrie leaned forward so that she was on all fours overtop of you, her leg positioned right at your cunt. The moment her knee made contact with the base of the dildo, you let out a loud moan and bucked your hips along her leg. You grabbed ahold of her arms on either side of you as you rutted against her. 

“That’s my girl,” she cooed as she watched you desperately fuck yourself. Her own arousal burned within her, but she saved it off. Right now, Valkyrie just wanted to watch you come undone for her.

“Please,” you begged, “Need more… Need you…”

Valkyrie cupped the side of your face and soothed you, “I’ve got you, love,” she whispered before she leaned forward and captured your lips with hers in a heated kiss. She swallowed the moan you let out as she lowered herself to cover your body with hers.

Suddenly filled with her own desperation, Valkyrie kissed her way down your body until she reached your pussy. She paused for a moment and admired the sight of how your lips wrapped around the clear toy, but a needy whine broke her out of her thoughts. She could admire you when she was done with you, and really savor the way you look after she thoroughly wrecked you. 

She leaned forward again and placed a soft kiss on your pussy before she dared her tongue out and tasted your cunt. You screamed in pleasure as he lapped at your clit a few times, but you didn’t have the chance to fully relish the feeling before she abruptly pulled back.

You let out a whimper as you felt the climax that already started to build disappear. But, Valkyrie didn’t leave you hanging for long, and without warning, she grabbed the dildo and thrusted it in and out of you at a fast and harsh pace. You dropped your head down and cried as she filled you with the toy over and over again.

Before long, you felt your orgasm start to build again and tears filled your eyes as you felt your entire body warm, “Val… I’m gonna…”

“Come on, doll,” she purred as she sped up her pace, “Cum for me… Be my good girl.”

That was all it took to send you completely over the edge. With a loud scream and your fists tightly clutching the sheet, you came hard. Your body trembled as she hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again with the toy until you felt so wonderfully overwhelmed.

When you whimpered, Valkyrie slowed her thrusts, but left the toy buried inside you, “That’s my girl,” she cooed as she hovered over you once more, “You know, I like coming home to this,” she said before she kissed you again.

You smiled against her, “Let me repay the favor?” you asked in a sultry tone.

“Later,” she smirked, “I’m not done with you yet…”

#valkyrie x reader #valkyrie x you #valkyrie imagine #valkyrie #tessa thompson #valkyrie fic #valkyrie x female reader #valkyrie fanfic #valkyrie fanfiction #valkyrie x y/n #thor fanfiction #thor fic #thor fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Valkyrie/Mighty Thor Fics

Yeah, so I am also down bad for Valkyrie and Jane's Mighty Thor...

Please send me requests for ideas for a really good fic with either of them...or both if you're into that. Yes, absolutely they can be filthy smut. I am feeling inspired. Do your thing Tumblr, my requests are open.

#valkyrie #king valkyrie #valkyrie x reader #Valkyrie smut #Valkyrie fic #Valkyrie fanfic #thor love and thunder #jane foster #jane foster fic #jane foster smut #mighty thor #mighty thor smut #mcu #marvel #valkyrie x jane #Valkyrie request #Valkyrie fics #valkyrie mcu #thor 4

[astridthevalkyrie]

your match is made | xavier x reader

“I know,” he continues, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “that the people in our classes, the nobles, the folks in the marketplace, they all hold me in high regard.” “Xavier,” you try to argue weakly, already feeling your heartbeat speed up from where this conversation is going. The thought of losing him, of losing your best friend, your prince, your everything, it is paralyzing. “Please don’t—” “I know that my weapon of choice is a longsword.” “Stop,” you whisper. But he doesn’t, and he looks directly into your eyes with an open, honest sincerity written all over his face. Like this is his truth, even though it is yours. “And I know that you have known me all your life, and I feel that I have known you for even longer than that.”

cw: fluff, like that's it that's literally it this is so fluffy

word count: 6.6k

a/n: lyric credits used in this fic: téir abhaile riú by celtic woman <- fire song btw, listen to bless your ears, it also sets the vibe of this fic very nicely tbh. jeremiah's my favorite boyfailure.

Lanterns hang from every available line in and around the town square, brightening any block lucky enough to fall under its horizon. In every corner and roadblock, there are carts littering the streets, dozens upon dozens of merchants calling out their best prices on their finest goods, all the way from fabrics stitched by the very same threads used for the royals’ robes, to common sweet chocolates that all the teenagers are purchasing in bulk to share with their friends and younger siblings. There is room to move around, but there is not a single area that is not bustling with people, either trying to purchase steamed corn from the stalls or simply enjoying the festivities with their families. And in the center of it all, the bards play with such finesse that their fingers may as well be the source of the music rather than the instruments. 

Such is the celebration of lights, a celebration of the light. Of Philos, of this miracle that humanity has been gifted with. Every year without fail, the people gather in the town square to commemorate this historic occasion, and every year without fail, it is the grandest jamboree you have ever bore witness to.

“C’mon, Xavier,” Jeremiah protests out loud, “what would be the point of having the crown prince with us if he refuses to pay for our meals?”

Xavier simply shakes his head, the serene smile never leaving his face as he denies Jeremiah for the third time tonight—he clearly derives great pleasure from doing it. “I’d hate to rob you of the chance to participate in Philos’ market tonight of all nights.”

Jeremiah groans at his right, and from Xavier’s left, you giggle. It’s the same routine every single year, and at every occasion to be honest, and yet Jeremiah never stops trying to emphasize the difference in his wealth versus the royal family’s. Xavier, who you think would give his last dime to an ant if it looked hungry enough, looks like he loves refusing Jeremiah more than participating in any one of the activities tonight. 

The spicy aroma of rice cakes fills your senses then, and you let out a longing sigh as you look to the stall decorated with steaming bowls on all sides. “I’m starting to get hungry too, now.”

Both of them follow your gaze, where the vendor is hurriedly turning this way and that to discuss prices and accept payments, while three of his chefs work in the back, delivering more as the demand increases. Xavier hums quietly, then takes out a small black pouch from his pocket.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to eat.” He holds out the bag for you to take, but before you can, Jeremiah scoffs, loudly.

“Oh, that’s sick.” He points an accusing finger at the prince. “That’s sick! If you keep playing favorites, you’re going to get betrayed when you take the throne, I hope you know. I swear I’m going to lead a revolution against you myself.”

“Do you really think my grandis knight would ever let you harm me?” Xavier shoots back, and you beam as Jeremiah rolls his eyes, snatching the pouch straight out of his fingers.

“I’ll take this, and I’m going to get two”—he holds up two fingers for emphasis—”two bowls, and I’m not sharing. Your grandis knight can split her portion with you.” With that, he stomps off in a huff, leaving Xavier with his head tilted and a confused expression on his face.

“I don’t understand. There should be enough coins for three bowls.”

“He’ll get you a bowl.” You raise your voice enough for Jeremiah to hear as he walks. “He’s very grateful that you offered your money, isn’t that right, Jermy?”

Jeremiah makes a rude gesture without even turning back to face you, and you laugh, grabbing Xavier’s wrist to follow him. If it were any other member of the royal family, they’d be getting swarmed right about now, and would likely require at least ten guards to stand around them at all times to ward people off. That is how the king and queen sit, a few blocks away from the main festival, up on a platform elevated high enough that no one could think to climb it, with Lightseekers both in front of them and on the ground, safe and observing the celebration from a distance. Philos’ crown prince is different. Xavier is out in the town with the common folk so frequently that he’s almost lost all the celebrity status his title comes with. Of course, that makes him popular in an entirely different way. The people in the market always seem happy that someone of such high status would lower himself enough to walk and talk amongst them.

His hand slips lower as the two of you go after Jeremiah, warm fingers intertwining with yours. You think little of it, reckoning he doesn’t want to get separated with so many people around. Xavier isn’t one to shy away from touch, at any rate. Once you spar with someone enough, it’s only natural to become physically comfortable with one another. He places his hands on your shoulders when he wants to guide you somewhere, bandages your cuts with his own calloused palms, presses his lips to your forehead to check whether you’re sick or not. In the face of all that, him holding your hand while running through a bustling crowd is hardly surprising.

Jeremiah is waving the pouch in the air hopelessly, trying to be noticed amongst the rest, when the vendor spots the two of you. “Xavier!” he calls happily. “Good timing, I have a fresh bowl ready just for you!”

“Unbelievable,” your chestnut-haired friend mutters under his breath, elbowing you as you laugh at his misfortune. Xavier steps closer, and you see him hold up two fingers to ask for more. When he points over, you wave to the vendor, who waves back before calling out instructions over his shoulder. In almost an instant, he has three steaming bowls filled with rice cakes ready for you to take. Your mouth almost waters at the sight. 

Xavier picks up one of them to offer to you, which you take gratefully. Taking a few steps to the side to avoid crashing into anyone, the three of you find a relatively less crowded place to dig in. 

Before you can take a heaping sip from the spoon, he gently takes your wrist and blows on the hot broth, meeting your eyes with a soft, concerned look. “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” you remind him teasingly, but blow some air of your own onto the spoon before finally digging in. As the flavors explode inside your palate, you hold back a moan at how good it tastes.

“Miss Knight!” a high-pitched voice calls out, and you turn in time to see a tiny pink blur moving past people’s legs. 

“Adelaide!” You hand your bowl to Jeremiah, who passes it to Xavier without even blinking, and kneel down to catch the blur in your arms. “Look at you, you look so pretty! I love your dress!”

The little girl’s eyes light up at the compliment. “Thank you! Miss Knight,” she bounces up and down eagerly, “I made something for you!” In her hands, she holds out a product of one of the several craft stalls set up for the children during the festival, a simple but elegant flower crown that she holds out like a grand prize. And from how your heart melts, it may as well be. 

“Oh, how beautiful. Thank you so much. Would you put it on for me?” You tilt your head down, and she places it on with all the care a child of six years would have. You know you’ll have a difficult time getting it out in a while after the flowers tangle with your hair, but you don’t mind at all. Adelaide is your favorite person to visit whenever the three of you come to town, the daughter of the seamstress who makes your uniforms, and you’d do anything to see her smile the way she is now.

“You look like a princess,” she says in awe. Your cheeks warm, and you stand up, gesturing to the other two.

“Speaking of which, you remember Xavier and Jeremiah, don’t you?”

Her small hands grip your dress robes as she hides behind your legs, peeking out at them. Xavier, with both his hands occupied holding your bowl and his own, merely smiles encouragingly at her, while Jeremiah waves. “Hiya, Adelaide. Your dress looks awesome!”

From the corner of your eye, you see her face turn bright red, and right as you’re about to coo inwardly about her adorable little crush, you hear someone calling her name. All your heads turn, as an older blonde boy, out of breath, almost pushes past people in his rush to run to her. 

“I told you not to run off like that! You could get lost—oh.” He stops short when he sees you, blinking as the color returns to his cheeks after his run. “H-hi there.”

“Hi, Neville.” You smile at Adelaide’s older brother, who’s almost always around when you visit. “Enjoying the celebration?”

“Definitely—I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you, I was helping Mother with her stall, a-and I didn’t know your master would give you the night off.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. And the grandis knight is at the king’s side, he could hardly stay to train me on such an important night.”

“Right.” He stands with his hands on Adelaide’s shoulders, only staring, seemingly forgetting why he’s there in the first place. For a few moments, no words are said at all.

Right when you’re about to cough awkwardly, he snaps back to attention. “Um, would you like to dance?”

“She can’t,” Xavier says immediately, almost making you jump. He’s almost right behind you, looming over your shoulder and staring Neville straight in the eyes with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. 

“Xavier!” The blonde bows clumsily (and unnecessarily) before straightening up, an unspoken question in his eyes. He looks between you and Xavier, and while you hadn’t been planning to agree to his request in the first place, you look at Xavier curiously as well. He’s never before dictated what you do during the celebration, whether you’re with him and Jeremiah or with some of the others in your class. 

“She can’t,” he says again, a bit more softly, “she can’t, because…” He takes one glance at you, then down at the two bowls in his hand, then looks back up. “She’s already going to dance with Jeremiah.”

“What?” both you and your supposed dance partner question at the same time. 

“You’ve been meaning to ask her to dance the whole night.” Xavier’s blue eyes fall on Jeremiah, with a pointed gaze. “This song is about to end, I think now is as good a time as any.”

“But I’m eating!” he whines, shaking the bowl in his hands as though to beg Xavier to take pity on him.

“I’d be happy to dance with her before Jeremiah steps in—” Neville offers, but he’s cut off by Xavier again, and this time his voice is icier, and his eyes are narrowed on Jeremiah who’s pouting at him.

“No, I think Jeremiah should do it now before it’s too late.”

Whatever message he’s trying to get across, Jeremiah clearly understands it, groaning and taking one last sip before grabbing your hand and tugging you to the main grounds. You’re only slightly irked that no one actually waited for your answer on whether you wanted to dance or not. But you’re more confused than anything else. Just a few minutes ago, both of them were fine, what could have happened so soon to make Xavier sound so cold?

“Have you really been meaning to ask me to dance all night?” you try asking, but Jeremiah only rolls his eyes.

“Please shut up. I already have to deal with His Majesty the Oblivious Idiot tonight, I can’t deal with both of you.”

“What are you talking about—”

“Miss Grandis Knight!” one of the bards, the violinist, waves to you. You’re momentarily distracted, smiling at her. It’s quite nice, if maybe a bit egotistical, to hear anyone call you what you’re trying so hard to be even when you haven’t achieved it yet. “Coming to dance?”

“I am!” you shout back cheerfully. “Give me a good one!”

She thinks for a few seconds, then makes a motion to the other musicians. Placing the violin against her collarbone delicately, she begins to pluck a familiar tune, one that has you lighting up and has the crowd cheering. Even Jeremiah grins as the two of you face each other, both of you well versed in proper dance etiquette from taking the same classes growing up. 

First, he bows, mimicked by the other men in the large circle that’s formed, extending a hand to their dance partners. Then you, and the other ladies, curtsy, and with a light step you take his hand and begin the dance. The bards begin to sing the contagious melody, as you and Jeremiah step in place, back and forth, your arms extending then coming together, before he twirls you under his arm. Both of you are laughing for no real reason, perhaps aside from how frivolous this is compared to the fighting techniques you’re usually partaking in together.

The song builds, and builds, and his hands slip to your waist, helping you leap across him before he ducks his head dramatically. The violinist calls your name, pointing at you to sing the next verse. Through your giggles, your cheeks warm at the attention, but you oblige.

Swishing your dress around you, you bounce off Jeremiah, pointing at him with a flourish. “Come now and follow me down, down to the lights of Galway where—” Your eye catches Xavier’s, who’s watching you as though you’re the main event. With everyone else’s attention already on you, you’re not sure if you can possibly take any more, but something about his gaze makes your chest feel lighter, as though in this celebration of lights, the real light is the one staring at you, the one who has eyes for no one else. “There's fine sailors walking the town, and waiting to meet the ladies there!”

The bards take over the song again, yet the spell doesn’t break. As Jeremiah twirls you again and hands you off to the next man, switching dance partners easily, you beckon Xavier towards you, urging him to join. 

The night is young, you try to convey to him wordlessly, and I don’t want to be without you.

He steps forward, as you switch dance partners again. While you hadn’t meant to dance in the first place, it makes you feel lightheaded in a good way. The movements you have to do are light as opposed to rough and unforgiving on your muscles, and the alternating hands on your body handle you as gently as possible instead of trying to seek out all your weak points. 

Your head tilts to the side, trying to see if Xavier entered the fray or not. You’ve lost sight of him, in a different part of the circle now, and you can’t search properly without breaking the formation of the dance and ruining everyone’s fun. The next person you spin into ends up being Neville, who chuckles shyly and tells you, “Not bad, Miss Grandis Knight!”

His moves are far more stiff than Jeremiah’s, but far be it from you to judge when he hasn’t had formal training. The important thing is that he tries, and you still have fun, and besides, the song is ending now. You’re almost back to where you started in the circle, just one more spin and—

A familiar, calloused hand grazes yours, skimming down the side of your arm. You gasp at this touch, far more coarse than the others, and the only one to leave you breathless, not least because it’s accompanied by the striking blue of Xavier’s eyes. 

When he extends and brings you closer, it is more than just natural. Xavier is of royal blood, it is almost as if he was born to do this. Your feet step with his without you having to look down, so familiar with his balance and pace from years and years and years of sparring together. And not even once do you break away from his piercing gaze, because you’re nervous that if you do, he might just disappear.

The song comes to an end, with a final step forward and your hands on Xavier’s chest, and everyone erupts into cheers. The noise surrounding you makes the silence between you and him all the more deafening.

As the two of you simply stare at each other, breathing in sync, one of his hands reaches up, first resting on your cheek before then making its way up to gently adjust the flower crown that had slanted on your head while you were dancing. Once he fixes it, his head tilts down, just enough that his nose brushes against yours, and a smile forms on your lips.

“I am very pleased you joined, my liege.” Your eyes shine in gratitude.

Xavier opens his mouth to respond, and that’s exactly when Jeremiah chooses to slump against his shoulder, yawning. “Oh man, I’m spent. When do we go back to the academy?”

Xavier looks mildly disgruntled. “This is going to go on for hours,” you tell him, frowning, “we can’t leave now. Besides, the fireworks will start soon.”

“Another dance?” the crown prince suggests, sliding your palm into his. 

Jeremiah gives him an unimpressed look. “Give it a rest.”

Stepping past the two of them, you look at all the tables mostly occupied by children being distracted by someone painting little butterflies and stars on their faces or the tiny flutes that are passed out for them to blow into. One of the pastry vendors is handing out baked goods for free, and while you didn’t actually get any chance to eat earlier, you want to find something to actually do. You’re not tired after dancing; on the contrary, now you’re restless and brimming with energy. 

“Come on,” you declare readily, taking both their hands and pulling them into the ruckus. Your boys have little choice but to come along with you. Your feet will start to ache soon too, you’re sure. But for now, while they don’t, and while the way Xavier was staring at you is still burned into your mind, you want to enjoy yourself.

Once again, his fingers tangle with yours, clinging to your hand warmly—a stark difference to Jeremiah’s, which you have to grip onto harder to make sure he doesn’t get left behind. He whines and complains the whole time, telling you he’s sore all over and that the three of you should try and beat the rush by leaving early. You’re used to this routine every year, so you’re not fazed. Nor is he serious, because even though you could physically force him to stay, Jeremiah never tries to leave until you and Xavier are good and ready.

As you run, different students in your section call out to you and Jeremiah. People are just slightly more hesitant to address Xavier directly, but you’ve never understood such a thing. The last thing he is is intimidating. Well, maybe place a sword in his hand and he becomes slightly fearsome (to everyone except you). There’s still no need to pretend that Xavier ever struts around demanding everyone show him the highest respects. He’s the furthest thing from arrogant.

It makes you feel proud, really, knowing you’ll be in the service of Philos’ greatest king.

“Xavier!” someone finally calls out. For a second, you’re thrilled, until you see who it is, and your face falls.

The title of grandis knight comes with a certain authority. Not one that you actually have yet, of course, but people respect the current holder of the position, and as his prized mentee, that respect teeters down to you most of the time. 

Keyword being most.

Just a few months back, you and Lillia had been close friends. You weren’t as close to her as you were to Xavier and Jeremiah, but she was still someone you confided in. You knew a few personal things about her, and she knew a few personal things about you. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t a guy, or your trainer, or one of the older students. Just another girl around your age training to become a Lightseeker.

But you should have realized that the respect you garnered by swearing to be the future king’s bodyguard came with a reasonable risk of betrayal as well. And yes, betrayal is a strong word. Technically, nothing happened. There is no accusation you can level at her. At least not without someone calling you hysterical, and that’s hardly needed when you’re already a woman seeking the highest position in the court, second only to the king himself.

It had come down to one night, with just you and her sitting and talking about nothing in particular, when she had leaned in and asked you something.

“So do you like anyone?”

It had been a quiet night, and the two of you had been the only ones awake, holed up in an old classroom, so you hadn’t thought any consequences could come from speaking truthfully—or at least, what you had genuinely believed to be the truth.

“Not really.” You’d shrugged, leaning back on the desk you were sitting on, putting your weight on your palms. “Most of the people in our section aren’t really my type.”

“Really?” Lillia had smiled slyly. “Not even Xavier?”

Your nose had wrinkled—not in disgust, just confusion. “Xavier? Why?”

“What do you mean? You two spend all your time together. You’re always sparring. Doesn’t romantic tension build up after something like that?”

“Maybe if we were equally matched,” you’d huffed, shaking your head, “I always beat him, I certainly don’t feel any tension. Besides, he’s going to be king. And I’m trying my best to be his grandis knight. We could never be in a relationship even if we wanted to be.”

“So you don’t have any interest in him?” she’d asked, a little more forcefully. You’d thought nothing of it at the time. 

“I mean…” Your stomach had twisted a bit uncomfortably and you’d averted your gaze. “If you had a sword to my neck, if I had to choose someone…”

And it had forced you to think about it. A far off scenario, if he wasn’t going to be the king, or if you weren’t going to be the grandis knight, or maybe both. It had been difficult to see Prince Xavier as anything else, but…it wasn’t impossible. If you were both just students, or partners, or even if you worked at that bakery that he loved to frequent. 

If you were just a normal person, and he was as common as everyone else, the first thing you’d thought you’d notice about him would be his eyes. It’s what you notice about him most of the time regardless. He has nice eyes. They have a sincerity in them that most people lack. And he looks at you a lot, so you would know.

He’s not bad to look at either. And he’s kind. A good leader. With a precious heart. And skilled fingers—

Blinking out of the hypnotic thoughts you’d fallen into, you’d hidden your suddenly flustered state as best you could and simply answered, “I suppose if I had to choose to love someone, I’d choose Xavier.”

And that had been that. Or so you thought. Everything had been alright, at least.

Until the next morning, when you’d walked out of your class and seen Lillia’s arms around Xavier’s neck. 

For a second, it had felt like Philos stopped turning on its axis. 

It wasn’t like Xavier had reciprocated. But that was only because he had been too polite to shove her away, and it would’ve been inappropriate to engage in anything further. Crown prince or not, he was still a guy, and obviously a pretty girl pressed into him in such a way would interest him.

And Lillia had caught your eye, and smiled triumphantly, as though to say well, if you don’t want him, then…

Even though you hadn’t said you didn’t want him. Well, you had said you weren’t interested, yes. But you had also told her that if someone held a blaster to your face if you didn’t cherish someone, then you would cherish Xavier. And maybe that hadn’t been a confession, but it hadn’t been you giving her permission to pursue him either. Not that she needed your permission, because it wasn’t like you had a claim on him, and it wasn’t supposed to make your chest burn that he, even for a second, looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

You hadn’t confided your weak feelings to anyone else after that.

“Hi, Lillia,” Xavier says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize until now that the three of you had approached her. “What’s this booth for?”

“Oh, it’s amazing,” she gushes, wrapping her hands around his arm and tugging. Your eye twitches. “She’s a fortuneteller. For just a few copper pieces, she’ll answer any one question you want to know about your life.”

“Really?” he asks softly, and all your gazes shift to the woman who bows her head to the prince, sitting in her chair with a purple drape over the small table in front of her. “I’m not sure what I’d want to ask.”

Lillia smirks in a way that makes you uneasy. “Well, I asked about my future partner.”

“Partner? For sparring?”

“For marrying, you dolt,” Jeremiah snorts, “c’mon, Xav, sit down and let’s see which unlucky soul gets to be queen of Philos.”

You’re nervous that he will, and you’re nervous that you won’t like the answer. Because it wouldn’t be you, you’re sure of that. And you shouldn’t want it to be you. That doesn’t mean you think he should be with her, either. What business did Lillia have pursuing Xavier, at any rate? She was training to be a Lightseeker too—but of course, the average knight did not have the same restrictions the grandis knight did—not that it matters because you have no say regardless—

But Xavier shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. My future partner will simply be…whoever the kingdom deems the loveliest of the lot.”

Your heart both inflates and deflates at his response. On one hand, you hadn’t wanted him to have his fortune read, for fear of heartbreak. On the other hand, a part of you had foolishly hoped that he would have the same option to love like everyone else did.

“You should do it,” Jeremiah nudges you with his elbow. Before you can protest, Lillia’s eyes light up.

“Oh, yes, you should! Here, come sit.” 

“Um, I don’t know.” Warily, you gaze over at the fortuneteller, who merely gives you a serene smile. “Is she going to give me someone’s name?”

“No, just a description. She told me my future partner would be someone of noble descent.” Lillia beams, showing off her too-perfect teeth, and suddenly you feel inadequate. You know what she’s implying, even if Xavier doesn’t. After all, there are very few people who would match that description.

So, not wanting to seem like a coward, because the king’s sword is anything but a coward, you step forward, sitting down in the leathery chair. You’re about to reach for your pocket to take out the copper pieces, when Xavier reaches over and places them in the fortuneteller’s palm, giving you an encouraging look that makes your heart sink. Perhaps you should have listened to Jeremiah earlier and called it a night.

When the woman takes your hand, she closes her eyes, running her thumb back and forth against your calluses. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and you try not to move a muscle. For some reason, it feels like if you so much as twitch, you’ll get the wrong answers, and you’re not even sure what the right answers are. 

Her eyes open, piercing yours with a startling gaze. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, “I see three things about your lover.”

To hear that word—lover, instead of spouse or partner, makes your entire face feel hot. Lillia giggles, saying something under her breath that you don’t catch but makes you feel violent tendencies nonetheless.

“First, he is someone held in very high regard by all around him.”

Oh no.

“Second, a longsword is his weapon of choice.”

Oh no.

“And third, you have known him all your life.”

Well, she may as well have just screamed Xavier’s name at the top of her lungs.

Everyone is silent for a few seconds. There is a heavy pause in the air, because who else could she be referring to? Who else fits that exact description? All Lillia was told was she’d be with someone of noble descent, which could be at least a few people. The painful beating in your chest is onset because there is only one person that your fortune fits. 

You know it, he knows it, even Jeremiah and Lillia know it. 

So you do the only thing you can do. You calmly stand up, offer the fortuneteller a tight-lipped smile, and turn on your heel and run.

Behind you, a few different people call your name, though you note distinctly that Xavier isn’t one of them. After that, even if other people are still recognizing you and trying to get your attention, you can barely think straight enough to identify their voices, let alone respond. You run, out of the town square, out of the festival, out of the sight of anyone who could possibly perceive you.

You run as far as you can before your legs start aching, which, unfortunately for you, takes a long time with your endurance training. By the time you feel even a twinge resembling pain, you’ve already made it a far distance away from the celebration, near the seamstress’ shop. 

With gritted teeth, you heave yourself over the fence, knowing you’re more than welcome in her garden. It’s luscious, orange and lavender chrysanthemums in the center stealing the spotlight from all the other flowers. Instead of going towards them, you curl up next to the lilies, because you already feel unremarkable enough.

It’s not that you think Xavier would be disgusted by you. The two of you are friends—but that’s exactly it, the major problem of having feelings for him. Besides the fact that you are supposed to brandish your sword in his name, you cannot like him because you’d rather die than lose your best friend. You couldn’t even say how long you’ve known him, but you do know that he’s the best part of your life. Not for anyone would you bow your head. Not for anyone would you lay your life down. You’ve observed Xavier for years and years and there is not a single other person in the royal family that you would follow into any battle, through any world, past any planet. 

You groan, burying your face in between your knees. At some point in between the months Lillia first asked you about him and now, you’ve gone beyond just considering him as more than a friend. You’ve even got past having a measly crush on him.

You’re in love with Xavier, and it’s awful.

Breathing slowly, you gaze up at the night sky, where the fireworks have still not made their appearance. The wind teases the flowers around you, making them tilt a little to the left, which is oddly how you feel too. Not uprooted, but bent, just like a flower. 

With a blade of grass in between your fingers, you follow the direction the flowers are blowing in, only to find yourself staring at shining ceruleans.

“Xavier!” you gasp, eyes widening with a start. You move to stand as a reflex, but he raises a single hand, and you stop.

There isn’t a single bead of sweat on his face. He is breathing a little raggedly, and his uniform is stained with some sap he must’ve not been able to avoid from the bushes on the way over. His face—well, his face is pristine as always, there isn’t a moment when the prince of Philos looks anything less than dreamy. But it’s not his features you’re gazing at, but the concerned expression upon them, directed straight at you, with caring eyes and pinched brows.

You almost want to cry just at the thought you’ve worried him.

“Are you alright?” His voice is quiet, cautious, fragile. Like you may break if he’s too forceful in his questioning.

“Yes, fine,” you reply automatically, though you suppose you now have to make up a story for why on Philos you ran away like a child, especially because he sits next to you, knees raised in the same manner as yours.

“I was merely…overwhelmed, by the crowd.” The explanation sounds weak even as your tongue speaks it, but you cannot think of any other reason for your actions. At least this is easier than the truth. Anything is easier than the truth.

For a few seconds, there is silence, and as uncomfortable as this already is, you can’t bear it. So you turn to look at him, and you realize with burning cheeks you realize he is staring right back. You don’t even think he’s looked at the blossoming flowers even once; his head seems to be fixated in your direction.

“I know you constantly score better than me,” Xavier says softly, “but I am not foolish.”

With a hesitant hand, as though he’s asking for permission, he reaches up to once again adjust the flower crown on your head. Your heart falls, and you really should’ve known better to think Xavier could not read you like an open book, especially after a fortuneteller quite literally did read you like an open book.

“I know,” he continues, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “that the people in our classes, the nobles, the folks in the marketplace, they all hold me in high regard.”

“Xavier,” you try to argue weakly, already feeling your heartbeat speed up from where this conversation is going. The thought of losing him, of losing your best friend, your prince, your everything, it is paralyzing. “Please don’t—”

“I know that my weapon of choice is a longsword.”

“Stop,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t, and he looks directly into your eyes with an open, honest sincerity written all over his face. Like this is his truth, even though it is yours. “And I know that you have known me all your life, and I feel that I have known you for even longer than that.”

Your lower lip trembles. Never once did you take him for the cruel type. There is no rule nor reasoning for this, to utterly expose your feelings even more and mock you for them, and if you sit here any longer you’re afraid you will begin to sob, and then not only will your friendship with Xavier be at risk, but your future position as well. The grandis knight cannot be weak. The grandis knight cannot shed tears for such silly matters as love. 

To preserve your role, to preserve your reputation and your dignity, you make to stand, to run even farther this time, but Xavier holds your wrist before you can, tugging you back to face him. There is no cruelty in his expression, in fact there is a tenderness as though he is somehow touched by your very clear devotion to him. 

His finger tilts your chin up, unwittingly making you demand a respect you don’t believe you deserve right now. His brow is pinched, as though he’s upset that you would let anyone, even him, turn you soft as a dandelion.

“I also know,” he breathes, “that this kingdom finds you incredibly lovely.” 

The world seems to stop.

“As…” Xavier’s hand rests itself on your cheek, and the most beautiful smile lights up his face as he murmurs, “Do I.” 

You lean in the same time he does, and faintly you hear fireworks erupt as you kiss the prince of Philos for the first time. 

The world is quiet, and so, so, so loud. Blood rushes to your face and to your ears, and you ignore it by placing both your hands on his cheeks, whimpering softly at how good he tastes. Every burning feeling and sensation you’ve felt in his presence these past few months, and really, your entire life, all seem to explode in this moment. The world is blue, and white, and Xavier.

His lips move so gently against yours, once again acting as though you are fragile, but it feels good this time, the idea of being something so precious as to require care for him. His thumb rubs soft circles into your cheek, you can barely pull away from him to assure him that he can be more forceful if he wishes, more wanting, more greedy. 

“Please,” he whispers against your lips, asking for what you aren’t sure, but you nod your head regardless, because you’d think you’d give him your very soul if he were to ask.

When you do pull back, he is looking at you so longingly it makes you more breathless than even dancing you did earlier. His gray-blonde hair nearly conceals his eyes, so you brush it from his face, breath hitching at his proximity. You’ve always known that he’s the apple of everyone’s eye, but you’ve never had the privilege to admire him so closely before.

“I don’t need a fortuneteller to tell me who my partner is.” Xavier rests his forehead on yours, eyes closing. “Whether it’s for sparring, or marriage, or anything else. You are the only one I want with me, through everything.”

You’re surprised you can even muster words when you shyly respond, “Likewise, my liege.”

His eyes shine, and the two of you finally look up to admire the fireworks bursting across the sky in incredible explosions of color. They pale in comparison to the eruption within you, but they are magical nonetheless, and you lean your head against his shoulder to watch.

A gentle kiss is placed on top of your head. “I know we only celebrate this once a year. It is a special time. Still…” He meets your gaze again, and the corners of his lips turn upwards. Tonight, there is only you and him now, you’re sure of it. “Would you mind terribly if we were to ignore the fireworks?”

Maybe one day you will learn to resist him. You sincerely doubt it, though.

“Not at all. But the seamstress and her kids will probably be back soon.” You place a begrudging hand on his chest, not wanting to stop him, but trying to act proper regardless. “Neville checks on the garden every night. He might see us.”

Xavier seems to consider this for a second. 

“Oh well,” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you again, “what a shame.”

He doesn’t sound very sorry at all, and amidst the soft glow of moonlight, you surrender to him, lost in your very own little celebration of lights.

a/n: if i had a nickel for everytime i’ve written a character x reader story where they’re at a party and they dance together but then leave to have a nice moment by themselves i’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier #lads #xavier fic #lads x reader #lads xavier #l&ds x reader #l&ds fic #xavier x you #xavier x y/n #valkyrie stories

[moonstruckme]

Would you be willing to do fem whimsical!reader x lily where reader thinks something is haunted and maybe tries to befriend the ghost? Idk id really be happy with anything i just love lily. thank you if you do write it!! If not that’s okay I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day as well <3

Lily Evans x whimsical!reader ♡ 916 words

You recognize the sound of Lily’s footfalls thumping dully on the dusty floors, so you don’t jump when a figure sits down beside you. 

“Did you buy whiskey?” she asks. “You don’t even like whiskey.” 

“It’s not for me.” 

Your girlfriend hums, shuffling closer so her thigh is pressed against your knee where you have your legs crossed underneath you on the floor. In front of you is your candle, the flame flickering steadily, and your offering of the bottle of whiskey. Otherwise, the room is empty. “If you keep coming in here, eventually Michael’s going to figure it out and he’ll get a real lock put on the door.” 

Michael is your landlord, of whom Lily is constantly wary because his first course of action is always threatening to kick tenants out (though as far as you know, he’s never actually done it). 

“True,” you reply, “but don’t you think he’d appreciate it if I got the presence up here to quiet down? No one’s going to move in if it keeps making so much ruckus.” 

Shortly after the last tenants had moved out, you’d started hearing noises in the unit above yours. Sometimes it’s a light clicking, sometimes a louder thump like something’s fallen, but every time you’ve come up here to check there’s been no evidence of things having moved around. The natural conclusion is that there’s been some disturbance in the spirit world that’s resulted in a new presence squatting here, and you like to make friends with your neighbors. 

You know Lily’s a bit dubious of your theory, but your beliefs often differ from hers. She’s never made you feel like yours are any less valid. 

“Are you sure that making friends with the ghost won’t make it more inclined to make more noise?” she asks.

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, “but I’d like to think that if they like me well enough, they’ll listen if I ask them to keep it down. At least at night, you know?” 

Lily smiles, and the room warms in response. “Worth a try,” she agrees. “How long do you think you’re going to be tied up for? Dinner’s almost ready.” 

“Not much longer. As soon as the candle burns out I just have to look at the shapes in the wax, and then I can go.” 

“We’re going to have to clean up the wax stains before Michael discovers them too.” She leans over to kiss the side of your head, the soft curtain of her hair falling across your cheek, before sitting back on her heels and straightening up. “Alright, love, come down when you’re done.” 

You hum in response, listening to the comforting cadence of her footsteps as they leave. But then there’s another sound with them. A quiet clicking. 

You inhale softly as the flame of your candle flares slightly. “It’s here,” you breathe. “It’s listening.” Lily pauses in the doorway, and you clear your throat, trying to affect your voice to be calm and welcoming. “Hello? Can you communicate with us?” 

The clicking continues. You think—hope, maybe—that it might be growing louder, but it’s difficult to say. 

“Hello?” you try again. “We’re friendly, please don’t be afraid.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure…” Lily takes a few steps toward you, a bemused furrow between her brows. “It sounds like it’s coming from in there.” 

She starts down the hall, and you follow hastily. She stops in front of a closed bedroom door, reaching behind her to grasp your arm cautiously. The clicking does sound louder here. Lily edges the door open quietly, peering inside. 

“Oh.” The syllable stretches as if drawn out from between her lips, sweet as spun sugar. “Hello, darling.” 

She lets the door fall the rest of the way open, dropping into a crouch. Over her, you can see the empty, dusty room, rich light from the setting sun streaming through the windows, and a small white kitten frozen warily in the middle of the floor. 

Lily reaches out a hand, making quiet little tsking noises with her tongue, but you step right over her and gather the kitten in your arms. 

“Hi there,” you say. “Is it you making ruckus every night?” 

Lily laughs, rising from her crouch to come stand by your shoulder. “It’s so unfair how they always come to you,” she complains fondly. “I try so hard.” 

You hum noncommittally. It’s true, animals love you. You scratch the side of the kitten’s face, smiling when it purrs. 

Your girlfriend smiles too. “So you’re our ghost, hm?” she coos, stroking a knuckle down its belly. “Sorry you didn’t get your chance to make friends with someone from the afterlife, sweetheart.” 

“That’s alright,” you say. “This may be more rewarding anyway. You can’t pet ghosts.” 

Lily laughs, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “No, I don’t suppose you can. Do you want to keep her?” 

You look at her in surprise. “Could we? Michael wouldn’t be happy.” 

She shrugs a shoulder, green eyes flashing with challenge. “There are some things worth incurring Michael’s wrath, I think.” 

You beam, looking down at the nearly sleeping kitten cradled in your arm. “Yeah.” 

“Come on.” Lily gives you a nudge, starting back out into the hall. “Our dinner’s going to burn, and I think we have tuna in the pantry to hold this one over until we can get to the store.”

“Can we name her Ghost?” you ask, following her out. 

“Oh, I don’t think we have a choice.” 

#lily evans #whimsical!reader #lily evans x whimsical!reader #lily evans x reader #lily evans x fem!reader #lily evans x y/n #lily evans x you #lily evans x self insert #lily evans fanfiction #lily evans fanfic #lily evans fic #lily evans fluff #lily evans drabble #lily evans imagine #lily evans blurb #lily evans scenario #lily evans one shot #lily evans oneshot #marauders #marauders era #marauders era girls #marauders girls #marauders valkyries #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders

[kinaesthetiqueer]

"We just got her to stop crying..."

Spiritual follow up to this drabble, based on this text post.

Any semi-shitpost comics like this are schrodinger's canon, meaning there are some canon-to-fic elements, and some not, though all is subject to change!

#nora valkyrie #lie ren #weiss schnee #nordic winter #rwby fanart #rwby #cw vampirism #cw blood #snowstorm vampire au #kina draws #heavens forgive me im shitposting about my own fic aksbskdbsnsdn #ive had a sticky note with this comic's thumbnail above my computer for almost 2 months #and i finally decided fuck it and drew it and it came out SO good im so proud of this #im learning how to use the panels in csp and i love them so much???????

[roguerambles]

A Nymph and A Spartan

Record of Ragnarök - Leonidas x Female Reader

Warnings - 18+Only. Adult Situations.

Okay, so credit for this idea goes to an anon on @rukia-writes blog, which I have been graciously allowed to use, so I hope you don't mind because we need more sexy Leonidas stories, damn it--

Enjoy!

-

"We shouldn't be in here!"

"Oh, Aurai, stop worrying."

"Start worrying, Stellia! Lord Apollo would be furious if he knew we were here--"

"We are here for Lord Apollo, remember--?"

You huffed slightly as your fellow nymphs bickered between themselves, tucked behind you as you crouched together in the small, wooded area the three of you had snuck into. The whole thing had been Stellia's idea. "We should understand who Lord Apollo is facing!" She had insisted, while Aurai had been indignant at the thought Apollo required any kind of advantage to best a mere human. You had tagged along simply to keep them out of trouble.

"We're going to get caught if you two do not pipe down--" You tried to shush them, only for Stellia to suddenly grasp your arm, pointing just past the treeline.

"Look!"

You followed her gesture with an aggrieved sigh - you were missing a perfectly good bath for this - and turned to face the direction she was pointing, half expecting--

Men.

Shirtless men.

Tall, shirtless, filled with muscle, Spartan men.

"Oh Fates--" Aurai squeaked, clasping a hand over her mouth, a deep flush filling her cheeks. "We...we should leave!"

"No." You replied, remaining rooted to the spot. The Spartans seemed to be training, judging by the dummies and weapons scattered about. You had never actually been to Sparta in its glory, but if the towering specimens of manhood in front of you, bodies built like exquisitely carved statues made flesh and blood were the norm, you severely regretted it.

The three of you remained huddled together, blatantly gawking at every contracting muscle - if any of the Spartans looked up they probably would have spotted you. "Which...um..." Stellia found her voice first, although her eyes remained glued to the back of a particularly strapping fellow practicing with bow and arrow. "...which one do you think is facing Lord Apollo...?"

"Who cares?" You said back vaguely. Stellia hummed as though in agreement, and you both fell silent once more. The archer released his arrow, hitting the target with a loud thunk.

Aurai grasped your hand, sounding flustered. "We...we should--"

"What are you doing in here?" A deep, masculine voice boomed behind you.

Stellia and Aurai both shrieked in alarm, grabbing onto your sides as you spun around. Your gaze landed on a broad expanse of abdomen, warm fleshed carved expertly into solid, defined muscle. Scar tissue bumped against smooth planes of skin, and your eyes trailed upwards over broad pectoral muscles, full and large, sharply defined collarbones, a somewhat scruffy beard dusting over a handsome jawline, full lips turned down in a severe frown--

"I don't care for repeating myself." King Leonidas of Sparta said, his voice rumbling darkly like thunder. The sound probably should have made you shiver with fear, instead of...something else. "What are you three doing in here?"

You opened your mouth to reply - to say something - but your mind had become quite unhelpful in anything but hyper focusing on every inch of the naked torso directly in front of you. He folded his arms - the movement causing the thick, powerful muscles of his biceps to swell indecently, his frown growing deeper as he glared down at you impatiently.

Fates, he was gorgeous--

"You three attend Lord Apollo, do you not?" A woman's voice, firm and measured as a steel blade, spoke from behind Leonidas's massive frame. Lady Brunhilde stepped around him, her cool gaze running over you and your companions. "You should not be in here. I am afraid I must escort you outside."

Leonidas's frown became a snarl, a vicious flash of teeth. "You serve that preening bastard?" Aurai squeaked out something that may have been some manner of defence, but she looked far too flustered to form proper words. Stellia was still staring at Leonidas, jaw hanging open slightly.

You knew you should have been offended at such an insult to your Lord, but you instead tilted your head upwards, meeting the furious fire in Leonidas's eyes. You slowly rose to your feet, the human man towering over you still, feeling the weight of his men's eyes on your back, having apparently noticed the commotion.

"My apologies." You said finally, reaching out to softly brush your palm against Leonidas's abdomen, the muscles flexing unconsciously under your touch. You peered up at him through your lashes, smiling as his eyebrows twitched slightly upwards in a brief flash of surprise. "We were just going."

Leonidas watched as your slowly brushed past him, nodding politely to Lady Brunhilde who regarded you with a raised brow and somewhat bemused smile. You followed the Valkyrie outside, Stellia and Aurai darting after you, feeling Leonidas's gaze burning against your back.

"Please, do not tell Lord Apollo--" Aurai pleaded at Brunhilde, who barely glanced over her shoulder.

"I care little about your personal relationships with your master. I won't say anything."

You smiled brightly at Brunhilde as she delivered you back to Apollo's rooms, and you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of amusement in the Valkyrie's eyes as she walked away.

-

You were not sure exactly how time worked in the Valhalla Arena.

You had considered asking Brunhilde, but you doubted she had particular interest in educating you on the subject, and you had a more pressing matter you wished to address.

Lord Apollo had barely noticed your absence, and last you had seen him he was in the baths with your fellow nymphs. Aurai and Stellia had settled in, but you had made your excuses and left, although you doubted anyone besides them had seen you leave Lord Apollo's rooms.

Normally you would have been bothered by Apollo's lack of attention, although it was hardly unusual. The God's affections were fickle and tempestuous as the weather, but he never failed to attract flocks of admirers regardless.

Why should he have all the fun?

It did not take long to find Leonidas's quarters, even less to sneak your way in. Dark had fallen over the area in a seeming imitation of night, and you could hear men laughing and hear fire crackling somewhere further within.

You peered through the gloom, trying to decide where exactly to go, when arms circled around your waist, and you found yourself pulled flush against a broad, muscled chest. "You Gods never learn, do you?" Leonidas's growled lowly in your ear, the sound washing over you like a wave, making you shiver softly. "You just do whatever you want, don't you?"

You laughed slightly, the heat of Leonidas's body searing through your clothes, making your breath quicken. You reached down to trail your fingers along his forearm, nails coming to lightly dig into the solid muscle of his bicep. "I certainly hope so."

Leonidas scoffed, a short, booming laugh falling from his lips, the sound vibrating deep in his strong chest. "What makes you think I'm interested in what you have to offer, God?"

You chuckled, pushing your hips back against his. Your rear brushed against something hard and hot and large and you couldn't suppress the shiver of excitement that ran up your spine, nor the jolt of desire that shot through your belly as Leonidas groaned softly at your movements. "I don't think that's a weapon hidden down there."

Leonidas shook slightly, his chin dropping to your shoulder, the scruff of his beard rubbing against the skin of your shoulder. You bit your lip, picturing the sensation of it rubbing against other areas and your heart quickened as Leonidas's large, rough palms slowly slid up your arms, long fingers brushing at the fabric of your loose dress.

"...may I?" He murmured in your ear, voice low and heavy with the growing embers of desire. You shivered in anticipation, and reached up to gently grasp his hands, your fingers sliding over his to guide them slowly downwards, pulling your gown with them.

Your dress pooled at your feet, and you felt a certain smugness as you felt Leonidas stiffen at your back, the slightest sharp inhale of breath. You turned to press your chest flush against his, a thrill shooting through you as you caught the darkening of his eyes, the hungry way they roamed over you.

"...that bastard won't get mad you are here?" Leonidas asked after a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

"Does it matter if he does?" You trailed your fingers down his abdomen, grabbing at the waistband of his pants. "He might be dead tomorrow."

Leonidas looked surprised, before tossing his head back, a deep roar of laughter spilling from him. His broad shoulders shook for a few moments, before he returned his gaze to you, a genuinely amused grin forming on his face.

"You're a woman after my own heart, nymph."

You felt heat in your cheeks at his words, the surprising warmth in his expression, and you shrugged lightly, pulling his waistband downwards, exposing the deliciously defined v-shape in his hips. You bit your lower lip hard, the pulse of lust deep in your belly almost making your knees shake. "It's not just your heart I'm after."

Leonidas's grin turned wolfish, and he ducked down, his arm wrapping around your hip. You yelped as you were suddenly hoisted onto his shoulder. Leonidas shook out of his pants, carelessly kicking them aside as he began striding in a direction you sincerely hoped there was a bed.

"I might be after something else of yours, too."

-

"Seriously, where were you yesterday? You never came back!"

"Stellia, will you stop--"

The crowd was already stirring with excitement, and you watched with some trepidation as Heimdall began to announce the Ninth Round of Ragnarök. You remained quiet as Stellia continued to prod you, while Aurai nervously toyed with her hands.

Apollo entered the arena, golden and resplendent as always, and your fellow nymphs dissolved into excited squeals and cheers. You clapped softly, your gaze drifting towards the opposing doors.

Leonidas strode into the Arena, tall and proud as any warrior king should be. His eyes were firmly on Apollo, his handsome, scarred face forming an angry sneer. His gaze drifted briefly over Apollo's head, however, landing on you amongst the crowd. Apollo's head slowly turned, an expression of confusion clouding his lovely features.

You smiled, uncaring of who saw you, lifted your fingers to your lips, and blew a kiss in Leonidas's direction.

Leonidas's eyebrows rose, but you could see the pleased smirk on his face as he lifted a large hand, clenching his fist as though to catch your kiss in his hand.

Apollo looked stunned, his jaw dropping open, briefly losing all composure and grace as he gawked in total disbelief at the display he had just witnessed in front of him.

"What was that?!" Aurai yelped loudly, looking at you as though you had sprang a second head.

"You harlot." Stellia grabbed your hand, pulling you towards her eagerly, eyes bright. "Tell me everything!"

"Have you lost your mind?!" Another nymph yelled, while the one beside her peered down at Leonidas thoughtfully.

"I mean...he is rather dashing--"

"Forget that, he's hot."

"Oh, I was hoping someone would say it, it's been driving me mad--"

You couldn't fight the smile forming on your face as Apollo's expression turned sour, turning back to face Leonidas, who looked delightfully smug, tossing a wild grin your way.

Fates, you wanted him to win.

#record of ragnarok #shumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok fic #record of ragnarok fanfiction #ror leonidas #snv leonidas #leonidas x reader #leonidas x female reader #ror leonidas x reader #snv leonidas x reader #record of ragnarok leonidas #record of ragnarok x reader #shumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shumatsu no valkyrie fic #shumatsu no valkyrie fanfiction #snv x reader #ror x reader

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

And they were… in trouble

A/n: To get the full experience of this chapter it’s probably best to read part 3 before reading this 😊

Part 3: And they were…lovers. Wait really??

Part 2: And they were…strangers

Part 1: And they were…roommates

Summary: the arguments continue, will they ever solve them? Probably not because they can’t communicate even with Lokis dream

Words: 2K +

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI angst and sadness, no real reconciliation in this chapter, blood mentions

When Wanda left the house she saw you standing outside the car looking at the ground

“I don’t want to go home yet” Wanda said refusing to get into the car “please Wanda I don’t want to argue let’s just get you home” you got into the car waiting for Wanda but when she just stood there with her arms crossed you rolled your eyes and got back out of the car

“Why are you doing this?”

“You still want me” she said and you rolled your eyes “of course I still want you I mean look at you, even with no sleep, probably a little hungover and the same outfit on as yesterday, I would push you against the wall and bury my head between your thighs and devour you until you tried pushing me away

Wanda gasped “do it then, right now up against the wall between these houses” you approached her holding her waist tight and went to kiss her but pulled away at the last minute “no, now get in the fucking car Wanda, you need to sleep for your classes tomorrow”

Wanda was the one to push you away now “forget it, I’m not getting into the car with you if you’re going to act like this!”

She walked off into the direction she thought was correct, she actually didn’t care she just wanted to leave and you didn’t chase after her, you let your eyes close thinking about everything, fuck-

Loki pushed you to the ground suddenly and you jumped back up throwing him a small dagger hitting him in the neck “what’s your fucking problem?!”

The man discarded the dagger crushing it and throwing it to the ground “I know you saw my dream for you, you saw the exact same thing as Wanda and when she woke up she was thankful, you’re just being an asshole about it!”

“Maybe I don’t appreciate you interrupting my sleep for a stupid teenage fantasy”

Loki scoffed “you loved the dream, I saw you smiling and giggling through certain parts, why are you being so stubborn?”

You eyes darkened to their red colour and you glared at the man “maybe I’ve just realised that being here on earth living with a human in a shitty apartment isn’t what I wanted to do in my death”

Loki laughed pushing you to the ground again “don’t make me laugh, that sappy talk you had with Wanda last night ‘oh I’ve loved you ever since I saw you and when I told you I was a demon and you didn’t run away’ makes me sick, get a fucking grip Y/n either date her and be a happy little demon housewife or finally leave her alone for good”

You were pissed off, who was he to tell you how to live your death and how to be with Wanda, she wasn’t any of his business “go fuck yourself! And don’t you dare mention Wanda again!” You stood up and stormed off into the forest away from Loki

“You need to make up your damn mind!” He shouted to you not that you were paying attention

*************************************************

You were deep enough in the forest now knowing no one would be around or if they were they wouldn’t be for long. Letting yourself kneel to the ground and close your eyes you felt it, the snapping of your spine and feeling the wings emerge from your back, blood running down your back, the feeling of your wings stretching and finally being free after so long

You stood up enjoying the feeling of your wings being free and you let out a happy sigh “oh I’ve missed this” your head throbbed and tore open revealing your spiralling horns

“I’ve missed being a real demon” your mind fogged and you felt all the pain and sadness disappear from your body and you’d never felt more alive, you needed to find someone, you needed to find Valkyrie and have the fun that you deserve.

************************************************

“Y/n?” Lucifer eyed you nervously as you entered the club in your demon form, knowing it hadn’t happened in a while “are you feeling some big feelings? Do we need to have a grown up talk and work out some anger?”

You laughed pushing through the devil and going to the other woman at the bar “hi Val”

“Y/n, you’re looking good” she pulled you into her lap “where’s Carol?” You didn’t really care but you thought it would be pleasant to ask “she’s in hell for a few months so I’m all lonely up here, just waiting for a winged demon with a dark desire in her eyes to take care of me”

You laughed “well here I am, come on I want to go hunting before I devour you, nice and blooded for me” your mouths met in a hot kiss and you groaned finally being kissed properly by a demon and not those plain humans you’ve been kissing but your good time was soon interrupted

“As erotic and as sexual as this is what the fuck is going on?”

You turned your head towards the king of hell “I missed being a demon, now are you coming hunting or are you just being a boring bastard?”

He fake gasped “how dare you of course I want to come hunting, nice to have my favourite demon back”

*********************************************

Wanda had managed to make it home but she didn’t want to go into the house, Natasha had left a note on the door telling her that she’d cleaned up as best she could and ordered her some hangover pizza.

So she lay on the grass outside the house looking up at the sky letting out a really heavy sigh, filled with so much emotion “maybe I should leave her alone, I’ll give her space”

You were interrupted by a rustling in the trees, a figure appearing, was it an animal? Wanda tried making it out and when she did her eyes widened

“What the-Y/n?!”

Wanda jumped back away from you and looked over your monstrous form, the horns, the wings and the blood dripping like rain droplets from your body, she’d never seen you like this

“Oh what a lovely lady you are, Y/n was right you look delicious” Wanda didn’t have time to react before the woman pinned her back down onto her back and looked at you.

“Go on Y/n I’ve got her pinned down she’s not going anywhere, take a drink like you’ve always wanted” Valkyrie had Wanda’s hands held together and even though Wanda was kicking with her legs all you had to do was straddle her to keep her still, so you did, leaning all your weight on her and smiling as some blood dripped onto her body

“Y-Y/n p-please, please don’t hurt me” she tried searching your eyes for any hesitation or remorse but there was nothing, just an empty sea of darkness

“You’ve hurt me so why shouldn’t I hurt you?” The deep gravely voice scared Wanda, yes you were a demon and yes she’d seen you angry but this was a whole new approach that scared her

“I’m sorry for hurting you Y/n please I do want to be with you! Please let’s just figure things out-

“Stop!” Your had enough, you’d had enough of everything she was saying and doing and you were going to take what you deserved

Leaning down to her face your hand gripped her chin pushing her face to side exposing her gorgeous neck, running your fangs over her pulse point made you vibrate, it was so exciting, so you sunk your fangs into her neck her blood filling your mouth and senses and fuck was it wonderful! She was delicious, she’d stopped thrashing and Valkyrie had let go of her hands coming next to you kissing your neck

“vos vultus calidum amica”

When you finally released the grip you had on Wanda you lifted your head and saw Wanda’s face, her pale weak face, oh god what had you done, the fog covering your mind clearing at the worse possible moment

You glared down at what you’d just done, you’d bitten Wanda, you’d taken her blood and now you were watching her slip into unconsciousness, no no! This wasn’t meant to happen you’d never hurt Wanda, even with everything that had happened you didn’t want to hurt her! Or did you? You were just angry and confused on what was going on you weren’t thinking straight

Quickly jumping off of her body and snatching her hands away from Val you picked her up and cradled her in your arms “Wanda Wanda please forgive I didn’t mean to hurt you I never wanted to hurt you like this I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, wake up please wake up”

The demon had never seen you so vulnerable before, in tears over a human, sure she’d heard the stories of you essentially becoming “soft” for the human but never like this “Y/n? Maybe we should take her to the hospital?”

You shook your head gently as if not to wake Wanda “and say What? Here’s a girl and she was bitten by a demon? Oh no its okay no need to file a report I’m the one that did it here have my teeth pictures, no I need to get her to the club, Dr banner will come and fix her”

“He’s not a human doctor-

“Doesn’t matter! I say he’ll fix her so he will!” You held Wanda close as Valkyrie held you both transporting back to the club

**************************************************

“I I don’t know what you want me to do Y/n I can’t fix an human, you’ve bitten her so she’ll probably wake up on her own-

“Leave” you whispered, Bruce, Valkyrie and Lucifer didn’t move

“Leave!” You shouted and the trio quickly left the room, you looked back at Wanda and noticed her shivering “oh my love I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything I’m an idiot I saw the dream that Loki made too and I loved it, I loved the build a bear thing that happened and the stupid little name buddy we gave him I-I can��t think of anything to say to help, just please wake up”

Obviously she didn’t wake up but you stayed with her, you refused to leave her side, it was only a couple of hours later when you woke up to some shuffling proving that she woke up “Wanda!”

You smiled but that smile quickly disappeared seeing Wanda’s scared face “Wanda? It’s me you’re safe”

“You bit me, you forcefully sucked my blood” her speech was slow and uneven but her words still hurt you “I-I’m sorry Wanda I was just so angry and confused my demon form took over and I couldn’t stop it” you tried coming closer to Wanda but she stood up from the bed still disoriented but she refused to let you see that

“I saw the dream too Wanda I saw everything-

“Stop. I heard you while I was unconscious, it doesn’t matter, I’m done, I can’t keep dealing with you, I can’t keep trying to be with you when you’re being so stubborn and unreasonable- just I’m going to my parents for a few weeks, they may not approve of most of my decisions but at least they don’t try and fucking kill me”

She left the room and you didn’t try and follow her knowing full well she wouldn’t want you too

Yep you’d definitely fucked all that up, maybe some time would help Wanda

*******************************************

“Wanda you don’t look so good” Natasha had picked Wanda up and per her request was driving her to the train station to go to her parents

Wanda shrugged “I’ve not slept and feeling down, of course I don’t look good

Nat didn’t respond to her angry quip and instead drove in silence finally reaching the station and getting out of the car waiting for Wanda

“Sorry Nat I’m just really stressed0

Nat shrugged “it’s okay you’ve had a bit of a rough time”

Wanda agreed “yeah it’s been terrible, but I hope it’ll get better”

*****************************************************

“Y/n you look terrible” lucifer casually mention as you flopped down onto his couch “yeah well it’s been a fucking rough week alright? So fuck off”

Your head suddenly started to throb and forced you to sit up and grip your head you heard screaming in your head, was it Wanda? Wanda was shouting for you?

“She’s shouting because you bit her and she’s strayed far from you, she’s bound to you forever now, really fucked up there didn’t you?” Lucifer laughed and you groaned

“She’s in so much pain, I’ve never felt pain like it, even my death wasn’t this bad”

“Go after her then, trust me if you leave it the pain will get worse”

************************************************

“Wanda!” Natasha rushed to her side as she threw up on the ground in front of her “Wanda are you okay?!”

The woman shook her head “I need Y/n”

“What?”

“I need Y/n! Fuck it’s hurts so much” her throat was on fire, she didn’t know why she wanted you but in her mind only you could fix her problems, only you could save her, at least that’s what her brain was telling her

Nat looked around in the nearly empty space and spotted a few people trying to hide from helping but then her eyes landed on you, you were here?? How? Did you know she was in pain?

“Nat give me Wanda” the girl shook her head “she said she didn’t want you”

You looked at Wanda who when she finally looked up at you nearly kept out of Nat’s arms “Y/n! Please I need you I don’t know what’s going on but I need to be with you”

“Nat please I don’t want to make a scene, give me Wanda before she collapses okay?”

Nat nodded and handed Wanda to you who wrapped herself around you like a spider monkey finally stopping crying and began falling asleep

“Nat go home, I promise to take care of her, drive safe”

You didn’t wait for an answer and just left with Wanda kissing her forehead “I’m so sorry again Wanda and I’m really sorry for what’s going to happen when you wake up”

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel au #marvel imagine #and they were… #demon!y/n x wanda maximoff #demon!Y/n #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Valkyrie mention #Valkyrie

[caroldantops]

indentation in the shape of you || valcarol

ship: valkyrie x carol danvers

summary/request: carol shows valkyrie her new suit. valkyrie doesn't like it.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (18+ only), kinda pwp, the marvels spoilers, strap on use, jealous sex, daddy valkyrie, dom!val, sub!carol

a/n: if you're seeing this coming from a ship tag hello! i usually write reader insert so if you go to my blog looking for more of this ummm. sorry.

masterlist | ao3 link

“I’m glad that they seem to be adjusting well. Fury tells me that they’re working on restoring Tarnax’s atmosphere, so hopefully they won’t have to stay in New Asgard for too much longer,” Carol tightens her fists at her side, tension in her body clear as she stands in front of Valkyrie’s desk. 

“Oh, no worries. Having them is no bother at all. Though I’m sure they’re eager to get off Earth,” Valkyrie hums as she swirls her dagger.

Carol insisted on coming down after fixing Hala’s sun to check on things, something that didn’t surprise Valkyrie in the slightest. What did surprise her was her sudden costume change. Her suit was different. Less saturated, emblem bigger on her chest. Valkyrie didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the Captain Marvel image that she’d grown used to. 

Plus, this one’s torn in places. Cheaply made. Not fitting for a hero who flies into suns. 

Carol is rambling on about something to do with one of the Skrull families as Valkyrie analyzes this new suit. It does hug her hips nicely. Form fitting around the waist that she’s grabbed and pulled against her many times before. 

“What’s with the new get-up?” 

“What?” Carol’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt. 

“This,” Valkyrie points her dagger at Carol. “Different suit.” 

Carol looks down at her suit. Valkyrie holds back a chuckle at how she almost looks surprised by what she’s wearing. “Oh! I got a new one.”

“Clearly,” Valkyrie laughs. “Come closer, I wanna see it.” 

Carol scrunches up her brows in confusion at Valkyrie’s sudden interest, but chalks it up to that warrior mentality. That woman loves some good battle armor. She walks around the desk to stand in front of Valkyrie, awkwardly holding still as she inspects the suit, running her hands over the material and poking a finger through one of the tears that ripped during the fight with Dar-Benn. 

“Seems cheap, doesn’t it?” Valkyrie sneers. “My armory could make you something ten times as sturdy. Where’d you get this shit suit from?” 

“It’s not shit,” Carol huffs. Valkyrie raises an eyebrow at her and pulls her finger down, making the rip bigger. “Hey!” 

“Why aren’t you answering me, hm?” Valkyrie knows damn well where this suit came from, she could tell from the moment she touched it. She just wants Carol to say it. 

“Aladna. Prince Yan--”

“Oh, a gift from your husband.” 

Before Carol knows it, she’s being tugged flush against Valkyrie. From her standing position, she towers over her even more than she usually does, but she gulps because she knows who’s in control here. 

Valkyrie knows that Prince Yan is no more than a friend to Carol, but both of them know just how much the idea of Carol being technically married makes Valkyrie’s jealousy blaze. 

Especially when she comes around with the gifts he’s given her. 

“Val--” 

“You know, I’m surprised it looks so dull, given that Aladna’s traditional clothing has more colors than a pride parade.” Valkyrie grips Carol’s waist, fingers digging into her sides. It would hurt if Carol didn’t have super endurance. But it’s enough to make the message clear. 

“It’s fine, I’ll probably go back to my old one anyway.” Carol refuses to make eye contact with her. She can’t let her know how much this is affecting her right now. 

But gods. 

It took Carol a long time to find someone who could make her feel this way. Someone who could make her feel safe rather than terrified of giving in to their control, their dominance. 

It just came so naturally to Valkyrie. Carol supposes that’s why she can’t stay away, comes running back when her thoughts get too much for her to bear and she just needs them shut off. 

Like now. 

“Don’t look away from me,” Valkyrie says firmly. Carol bites her lip and meets her gaze again. “Good girl. Bend over the desk.” 

Carol briefly considers asking why, but at the moment she can’t bring herself to fight Valkyrie’s little game. She moves some stuff out of the way and bends over the desk. She does her best to steady her breathing as she feels Valkyrie’s hands run up the back of her thighs. 

“You’d think that Prince Yan would give his princess a sturdier suit. You know, I bet I could just…” 

Riiiiiiiip.

 “Valkyrie!” 

Valkyrie laughs, giving Carol’s ass a slap as she admires what she’s done. Just as Valkyrie suspected, she was able to poke into one of the tears and fully rip a hole right through the crotch of Carol’s suit. Her cunt is exposed, the pale skin of her ass peeking through the top of the tears as well. Valkyrie steps forward, hips flush against Carol’s ass. 

“Feel that, princess?” Carol groans. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, sir.” Carol gasps as Valkyrie grinds the bulge of her strap into her exposed ass. She tries hiding her face to conceal how flustered she is, but Valkyrie won’t tolerate that. She’s tugged up by her hair, Valkyrie’s lips brushing against her cheek as she speaks lowly to her. 

“Does your husband ever do this for you?” Valkyrie doesn’t expect a response, just chuckling at Carol’s whines. “Does he know what a needy girl you are?” 

“No, sir.” Valkyrie unbuckles her belt, pulling out her strap and nudging the tip between Carol’s already damp folds. Carol shudders, pushing her hips back against the sensation. 

“Greedy, greedy thing. Already trying to fuck yourself on my cock.” Valkyrie stands up straighter, but doesn’t release her grip on Carol’s hair, knowing the stinging in her scalp makes Carol as compliant as can be. “You’re getting spoiled, princess. Gonna have to ask nicely for what you want.” 

“Please,” Carol asks softly, voice pitched high as Valkyrie rubs her clit with her strap. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.” 

“Hmm,” Valkyrie releases Carol’s hair and runs her hand down her back, feeling the strong muscles of her back quiver under her touch. “Dunno, that’s not very convincing if you ask me.” 

“Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me!” 

Valkyrie laughs and sinks her cock into Carol’s weeping pussy. Carol lets out a guttural moan, only overshadowed by the wet noises her cunt makes as Valkyrie pounds deep into her. She grips Carol’s hips, pulling her back against her to meet her rough thrusts. 

She loves having Carol like this. The all-powerful Captain Marvel, destroyer of armies and savior of the universe begging for her tight pussy to be ruined by her, shivering under her praise and degradation, weeping in her arms after she’s been thoroughly fucked. 

Carol must have been particularly pent up today, because it doesn’t take much longer for her to be on the edge, a few strokes of Valkyrie’s fingers over her clit and some whispered praises of “Good princess, let go for me. I’ve got you” send her into a shaking mess as she comes. 

She mumbles something incoherent as Valkyrie flips her over, pulling her up to curl against her chest. “What was that, baby? Can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.” 

“Thank you,” Carol sighs. 

Valkyrie smiles softly, kissing Carol on the tip of her nose and rubbing her back. “You that tired after one round?” 

“Not tired, just…tired.” 

“Ah, yeah. That really cleared things up.” 

“Shut up.” 

#valcarol #valkyrie x carol danvers #s: valcarol #fic #silver writes #i wrote this mainly just to get it out of me idk its been so long since ive written not reader insert #so i am a bit rusty #the marvels spoilers #IM SO SORRY I KEEP FORGETTING TO TAG

[shadowdaddies]

Hello! I want to tell you that I just discovered your blog and I love the stories you write. Can I please request something?

Helion and the reader are on the battlefield, and the reader takes a hit meant for Helion, and then the bond snaps for him, the reader survives and declares her love for Helion, telling him that she has long known that he is her mate, but wasn't sure that he might have feelings for her. Thank you!

thank you! I really enjoyed writing this, thanks for the request love💜

My Only Sunshine

Helion x Valkyrie!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, blood/injury, death, not proofread

Flying over the battlefield on your pegasus, you had taken to the skies along with the rest of the Valkyries to battle Koschei’s baitals. He’d sent the vampiric creatures as reinforcements among his air forces, the bony monsters searching the grounds below for dying bodies to possess on the battlegrounds. 

An ear-piercing shriek echoed through the air as you cut down a baital, watching as its lifeless body fell to the ground. What you saw below caused you to do a double-take - Helion was battling off four soldiers as he clutched a wound on his side, another baital circling above him, waiting for him to be struck dead. The scene shot horror through you, and without thinking you steered your pegasus toward the ground. 

You leapt off the steed to allow it time to swoop back up to the skies, and you rolled gracefully to land on the ground. Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers ahead of you as you drew up your sword in defense. Charging through the battlefield, your focus was only on getting to Helion by whatever means necessary. 

You could not afford the time to think of what might happen to your mate - the beautiful and kind male fighting bravely ahead of you - if he did not make it out of this battle before you confessed your feelings for him. You had known that Helion was your mate since the first time you met him, when the Valkyries began training with his pegasus.

You fell for him quickly, his playful and joyous nature bringing a light to your life you didn’t realize you had needed - and you watched as the sun to your moon began to fade. 

With a scream of fury, you unleashed yourself upon the soldiers, leaping into the air with a supernatural strength to cut down the baital that was circling overhead. You landed in front of Helion, his shocked eyes focused on you as you checked his wound. You panted out, “we have to get you to a healer, Li,” just in time for him to look behind you, pure fear flashing across his features.

You turned, seeing only a blur of a creature aiming an ash arrow at Helion before you dove in front of him, a searing pain permeating through your body as though it coursed through every vein. A single tear fell from your cheek as Helion caught you, his eyes lining with tears while he held your head in his broad hand and whispered, “why?”

The last words you were able to breathe out as you held your hand to Helion’s cheek were, “my mate,” before the world faded to black.

~~~

Your pegasus had never kicked you in the head, but you imagined that how you currently felt would be quite a similar feeling. Overcome with thirst and an aching body all over, you groaned at the pain that accompanied merely attempting to open your eyes. 

You could feel the soft mattress beneath you, silk sheets cool against your stiff muscles as you further awoke from what must have been a deep sleep. Shock overtook your system as you recalled your latest memories of the battlefield and Helion being in danger, and you jolted upright with panic. 

Your body did not respond well to the sudden movement, and you yelled out in pain as a blinding pain in your ribs took your breath away. The sound of someone fumbling awake accompanied your gasps for air, and suddenly familiar warm hands were on your back and chest, easing you to lay back down on the mattress.

You looked up to see Helion in a state of disarray you could never have imagined for him, and your heart ached seeing him in pain. You tried to croak out words, choking on the dryness of your throat. Helion quickly grabbed you water, gently propping you up against the pillows as he helped you drink until you were satisfied. 

Before you could attempt to get out the words you wanted to, however, Helion took your hand in his and squeezed, taking a deep breath as he seemed to struggle for words since the first time you had met him. Without words from him, you felt his emotions as though they were your own, and you realized - you were feeling him through the bond. 

He must have sensed your emotions as well, his eyes showing a glimmer of hope that had been missing since you’d awoken. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. “My mate,” Helion whispered as he stared at you in adoration. “I’ve always been awed by you, but I wouldn’t have dreamed to have been blessed to have a female like you as my mate until the bond snapped for me, when you-“ 

His voice broke off then, the unspoken weight of your sacrifice hanging in the air. You tilted Helion’s face to look at you as you admired his beauty. “Li, I would give my life for yours a thousand times over. I was lucky to be blessed with you as my mate, but you are so much more than that to me. You are a great male, a great leader, and you make the world a better place. I love you, not because you are my mate, but because you are you, Li.”

A tear made its way down Helion’s cheek at your words, and he laughed as he leaned down to kiss you gently, mindful of your injuries. Bending down to nip at your ear, Helion practically growled as he whispered, “heal quickly, my love, because I have a list of ways I will replace your pain with pleasure... for the rest of our lives.” You giggled at that, happy that your mate was feeling his flirtatious self again, and that you would spend the rest of your days with the one person who brought you the most joy.

#acotar #acotar x reader #helion acotar #helion x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #helion x you #helion x reader angst #helion x reader fluff #helion spell cleaver #acowar #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #valkyries acosf #the valkyries #acomaf #acotar helion #high lord helion #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x reader fluff #acotar x reader angst #koschei #helion x y/n

[fluffyprettykitty]

Mounted

Pairing: king! Brunnhilde x female reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 1100 words

Outline: Brunnhilde finds out you weren't obedient while she was away so now she has to confront you.

Warnings: daddy kink, boot riding, impact play, degradation, humiliation, roughhousing, dom/sub, pet play, swearing, pain kink, scissoring.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by me watching someone push someone else with their boot and here we are.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts​

Main Masterlist ・❥・Valkyrie Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

“A little naughty aren’t we?”

Valkyrie asks pressing her combat boot against your clothed pussy pushing you back toward the bed. You were still in your night clothes even though it was past midday. 

“No, daddy, I’ve been good, I promise.” 

Valkyrie rolls her eyes and presses her boot a little more on you, causing you to squirm. The pressure and the rough sensation were enough to make a fire grow in the pit of your stomach. Truth is you had been here on the bed all morning long after she left for her business meetings. And of course, you had only one thought in your mind keeping you occupied, and afterward, you must have fallen asleep. 

“My little birds told me otherwise.” She moves her hand to her waistline.  “You,” She takes her sword out and then raises it and places it on your chest, rising it up till your chin and pushing it up to look at her. 

“You smell of cum. I could recognize that anywhere. And you know you are not allowed to do this on your own.” You whimper, the cold metal blade stretching against your neck.

You feel yourself getting needy, you have no time to wonder who it was that could have told her what you were doing in the confinement of her royal chambers. You dart your eyes away from her instead of staring at her boot. 

“Can’t even speak up to say sorry, pathetic.” She rolls her eyes and drags her sword a little against your skin. “Not even one apology.”

“Sorry, daddy, sorry, please, I won’t ever do it again.” You gulp and the way she aggressively looks at you forces a pool to grow between your legs. You try to do it slowly, to move your body underneath her, to escape perhaps but of course, she can see you moving. 

“You better not.” She points out, dragging the blade against your neck before removing it and stomping you with her boot pressing right down. 

“Daddy, please!”

“Because today I will not be touching you at all.” You gasp and shout a loud no, looking at her. Indeed, she couldn’t be that cruel. 

“No, I’ll be good, I promise. “ 

“You are beginning to question me, pet?” 

“No! Daddy, I’d never.” You gulp again and settle down. “I could give you a show. I bet you’d like it, daddy.”

You make your voice as saccharine as possible, lust and honey dripping from your tongue. You know how bad she can’t resist you when you truly try to outperform yourself. Valkyrie liked her shows and your performances and of course your dances. You look at her and begin to sway your hips. She cocks an eyebrow as she lets the blade hit the floor. 

“You’re literally so pathetic about this, that you won’t even fully admit what you did but you’d try my boot like this? Like a needy stupid whore?” 

You only grin, swaying your hips against her as she’s stomping you further causing you to moan. A wave of pleasure rushes inside you and you build up the pace as she’s grazing and pressuring you. It feels good, not enough, but enough to keep you going and make you hazy and ready. You are rolling your hips against her boot, focused on one thing for now. To look as desperate as possible.

“Get on the floor, show daddy how obedient you are, come on.”

You whimper and roll your hips against her boot once more before she is pushing you hard, inflicting pain on you but the minute you groan she lets go, grabbing you by the neckline of your dress and throwing you on the floor. Quickly, you jump closer to her feet and wrap your arms around her thigh, legs, and pussy around her boot. It feels primal, different, purely primitive, and unique and you feel absolutely ecstatic. 

“Look at me, pet.”

She warns you and you look up at her with an obedient look on your face. You begin to properly hump her boot, working your thighs and your body to your advantage. She lets you behave like this, moaning and humping till she bends down to spank your ass and tell you to go harder which you do. Bopping up and down her leather boot like the needy little pet you are until you begin to feel exhausted. 

“You’re getting tired way too early, you need better training.”

She grips you again by the collar of your dress and throws you on the bed quickly, jumping on top of you. Without breaking eye contact, she rips off the dress from you, to expose your skin to her. And more so your breasts. She always loved to see them jiggling. She takes one long hard look at your very wet panties and then rips them off. Your pussy already visibly aching for her touch.

“I don’t understand why you even bother wearing those. You always get them dirty anyway. Can’t even keep herself together.”

“Daddy, you’re mean.” You breathe out pouting at her from your place.

“Only because you are fucking pathetic.”

She rolls her eyes as she lets her belt gets loose, exposing a bit of herself under her heavy leather. You stare at her as she begins to undress, only the places she needs direct access to. 

“Look at you, I have to pause my work just to come and properly fuck you. So fucking selfish.” You whimper loudly at her words and yet your heart fills with pride. You love knowing you got such powers over her. 

“I love you.” You whisper smiling right through your teeth and she shakes her head momentarily. She places her clothed pussy over yours and then begins to ride you so hard and fast it makes you see stars. She is riding you like an untamed brat that needs some straightening.

The room gets filled with the sounds of your combined moans until nothing is heard anymore. Once Brunnhilde gets tired of fucking you, she lets you sleep once again and goes on the rest of her meetings. 

You could never object to staying in bed all day. 

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary!

#valkyrie x reader #selenewrites #valkyrie #valkyrie imagine #valkyrie marvel #valkyrie x you #valkyrie x y/n #valkyrie smut #valkyrie fic #valkyrie fanfiction #love and thunder #brunnhilde #brunnhilde x you #brunnhilde x reader #brunnhilde the valkyrie #brunnhilde smut #tessa thompson x reader #tessa thompson #thor movies #brunhilde x reader #wlw fanfic

[marylily4ever]

I know we're supposed to respect everyones hcs, but this girl JK something (she is inded a joke) is making no sense

First she says that everyone is straight and then she says that Pete is a traitor (pls, my bbg wouldn't even kill a fly), after saying that James, Mary and Evan are white I can't stand her

She even made a fic called Harry Potter and Philosopher's Stone (?), girl no one is gonna read that shit it doesn't even mention my wife Pandora

#marauders #regulus black #slitherin skittles #james potter #jegulus #the valkyries #marauders fandom #marauders fic #the black brothers #lily evans macdonald #marlene mckinnon #marylily #pandora rosier #evan rosier #lily evans #mary macdonald #dorcas meadowes #dorlene

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (22/23)

Chapter summary: Natasha finally reaches out with a way for you to earn her forgiveness; You assess where you are in your own journey of discovering who you are without Wanda.

Chapter word count: 9.2k+ | Warnings: Angst | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: It's not the end--yet. Enjoy! :)

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next part: Twenty-three

--

Twenty-Two

The night before the Cup-off, you’re helping Wanda to round off all the final preparations for the competition when you finally receive a text you’ve been anticipating for the past several weeks. 

Natasha’s message is laconic and straight to the point. And she’s using a different number too.

Meet me in 30 minutes at our usual spot - Nat

Upon reading the message, it hits you right away that this is the only chance you’ll ever get to talk to your best friend again. You glance at Wanda who seems engrossed in a pile of notebooks, scribbling and revising her ideas with fervor. You approach her, lightly tapping her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey, I... I've got to go,” you say, your voice small and reluctant.

Wanda turns to face you, her brows stitching together in confusion. “Go? Now? What's going on?”

“It’s Nat,” is all you get to say before Wanda is nodding in full understanding. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. She knows how much you've been waiting for this. Truthfully, she's slightly apprehensive about how this conversation could unfold. And although she’s laid all her cards for you, she’s afraid that Natasha might say something that would change your mind about her. 

Wanda anxiously chews on her lip. This isn't the time for her to act selfishly. “Alright, just be careful, okay?”

In response, you kiss her quickly before heading out.

The walk to your usual spot is shorter than you remember, or maybe your thoughts are just too consumed by the prospect of seeing your best friend after weeks of begging her to talk to you.

You reach the small, familiar park where you've shared countless moments with Natasha. You find her sitting on the same bench where you used to sit together during your college days. Seeing her there, waiting for you, fills you with a pang of nostalgia. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.

“Nat,” you greet, the nickname rolling off your tongue as if it hasn't been weeks since you last said it to her face. Her response is a silent nod, an invitation to sit beside her. Despite the clear tension, you sit anyway, waiting for her to speak first. This is her show, her rules. You're just here to listen.

“Y/N,” Natasha starts, her voice steady. There's a calculated calmness about her, which is so distinctly Natasha that it makes your heart ache a little. “It's been awhile.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Inhaling deeply, she continues, her emerald eyes piercing into yours. “I’m aware of what you're hoping to achieve here. But I need you to understand that this might not go as you think it will.”

“I know that, Nat.” you say.

“Do you?” she retorts with a humorless laugh. “Because I'm not sure you understand how much you've hurt my sister.”

Her pain and anger is as palpable as the day she told you you weren’t friends anymore–they simmer, beneath the facade of indifference that she’s practiced so well.

“Maybe I do,” you say.

“What?” Natasha asks sharply, as if daring you to elaborate.

“I do understand how she feels. Which is why I know there’s nothing I can do to atone for–”

“You really are shameless, you know that?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, though you know your words are but a hollow echo, unable to mend the broken pieces.

“For what?” Natasha counters, her eyes glossy under the dying daylight. “For betraying her? For breaking her heart? Or for being too cowardly to face what you've done?”

“For all of it,” you whisper, hardening your jaw to hold back the torrent of emotions ready to consume you. “And for the fact that I can't undo any of it.”

A single tear rolls down Natasha's cheek, and something constricts in your chest, knowing that Natasha rarely shows her emotions, let alone cry in front of anyone.

You thought you understood before, but you didn’t. Not until this moment. The hurt you've caused is not just a concept, it's tangible, it's real, and for the first time, you truly see it.

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the sincerity of your regret reflected in your eyes.

For a moment, silence descends upon you both, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl and the rustling of the wind through the leaves.

“Does she know you're sorry?” Natasha finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She...she does,” you say, letting out a ragged breath. “The last time I saw Yelena... I told her how sorry I was. But she...she told me she doesn't know if she can ever forgive me.”

This revelation takes Natasha by surprise. “She talked to you?” She manages to ask after a beat.

“Yes,” you blink at her curiously. “She hasn't spoken to you?”

Natasha slowly shakes her head. “Not recently,” she says, her voice faint. “She left the state. She's living in Chicago now.”

The information crashes into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. 

“Chicago?” you parrot back, the city's name tasting foreign on your tongue. Yelena had moved states without you having any clue about it, intensifying the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“I found out through a fucking note,” Natasha divulges with a grim expression.

“I... I didn't know,” you stammer, an overwhelming feeling of regret washing over you. “I didn't realize it had gotten that bad.”

Her gaze returns to the park in front of you, her voice almost swallowed by the wind when she speaks, “It did. It really did.”

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the apology feeling more potent this time. It extends beyond Natasha, reaching out to Yelena and even to yourself. A regret for the distress you've caused, for the trust you've broken, for the chasm your actions have carved between all of you.

“Stop apologizing. It’s starting to annoy me.”

You clump your mouth shut. Judging from the way this conversation is unfolding, it's abundantly clear that a friendly parting at the end is off the table.

Your teeth begin to chatter as the last vestiges of sunlight dip below the horizon. 

“Why couldn't we have moved this conversation to a more sheltered spot?” you grumble, observing the misty puffs of your breath evaporate into the frigid air.

Natasha merely shrugs, an almost sinister glint in her eyes. “Maybe I wanted to punish you a little,” she quips nonchalantly. She seems unaffected by the low temperature, hardened by her work which often requires resilience in less-than-ideal conditions.

Your reply is a tight-lipped smile, a pitiful attempt to make light of her response. The cold might be bearable for her, but you can't help but feel the chill seeping into your bones, much like the icy silence that follows her words.

It's quiet, too quiet, the silence pressing down around you both.

What now?

“I wish...” you start, but the sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. You wish for so many things. To turn back time, to change your actions, to see Yelena's face light up the way it used to. But more than anything, you wish for forgiveness–from Yelena, from Natasha, from yourself.

But none of that matters because you don’t wish you weren’t with Wanda now. She’s the only one anchoring you to this reality, having so much of yourself stripped away. 

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice sharp as the frosty air. “Just...don’t.”

And then, a moment later Natasha rises and starts walking in circles in front of you. You look at her with a bewildered expression, curious to see what she’s up to. 

“But maybe there’s something…” she trails off, still following an invisible pattern on the ground as she keeps walking, avoiding your eyes. 

“Something…?”

“Maybe there’s a way for me to believe that you’re not making another big mistake in your life.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

Instead of answering, she finally looks up to you and asks, “Are you with Wanda now?”

You hesitate for a moment, and then slowly nod. 

With a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, Natasha lets out a laugh that is more of a scoff. There's a sharpness to it that feels pointed, almost a jab. Her lips curl into a smirk that's too pleased, too knowing. 

“I don’t even know why I expected anything else,” Natasha mumbles to herself. “And is it worth it?” she asks, her voice laced with bitterness. “Worth enough to risk our friendship, to break Yelena's heart?”

“Nat,” you start, watching her carefully, “What's this about? What are you implying?”

She takes a second to reply, staring at the darkening sky as if it holds the answers she needs. When she finally speaks, her words come out with a certain steeliness.

“I need to see it,” she declares, her gaze finally finding yours. “I need to see that this...whatever it is between you and Wanda, that it’s real, that it’s worth something. Worth losing Yelena and me, and everyone else who’s ever cared about you.”

The color drains from your face as she continues speaking, a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you where she's going with this. 

“And there’s something else,” she continues, her eyes narrowing. “I need to know that Wanda, the woman who had the audacity to cheat on you once, isn't going to do it again. That she’s not just playing you, and this isn't just her running from guilt or looking for comfort.”

“Nat,” you swallow hard, a tight knot of unease building up in your chest. “What are you asking?”

“I want you to stay away from Wanda for a year,” she says, her voice cold and unwavering. Her eyes challenge you, and the heavy demand sends a chill down your spine.

It seems overbearing, even slightly irrational, and she's aware of it. She understands how it might paint her as controlling, perhaps even bordering on the brink of madness. But if this is the price for her forgiveness, if this is the means for you to earn her acceptance of you and Wanda, then so be it.

For you, it’s almost suffocating. A year without Wanda seems daunting, an insurmountable task. But as you watch Natasha, her face stern, her posture unyielding, you understand that this is her version of justice, her way of testing the strength of your conviction. It's a tall order, but if it's the road to mending the fractures between you, then it's a path you're ready to consider.

It takes your breath away, as if the winter air has been sucked from your lungs. “A year?”

She nods, her expression unwavering. “If, after a year, you both still choose each other... if Wanda has remained loyal to you in that time, then I’ll know it’s real. Then I can start to consider the possibility that what you've sacrificed for this might not have been in vain.”

“Why would you ask me this?” your voice breaks as a lone tear trickles down your cheek, cold and sharp against your skin in the harsh winter. But Natasha remains unmoved by your visible distress, her chin held high in defiance.

“Because, it's the only way I can even think about forgiving you,” she surmises. “It’s the only way I can ensure you're not just making another colossal mistake. And more than anything, it's my way of trying to protect you... from yourself.”

“Protection? Is that what you're calling this?” you hiss at her, anger and bitterness lacing your words. “You want to take away someone who means the world to me? You expect me to believe that you're doing this for my sake, but all I see is you trying to make me as miserable and alone as possible!”

Your breaths coming out in ragged puffs against the frigid air. For a moment, Natasha looks taken aback by your outburst. Then, her expression hardens once again, her green eyes meeting yours with an unwavering resolve.

“I don't expect you to understand,” she says, her voice cold. “But if you truly care about Wanda as much as you claim, you would take this chance to prove it. Not just to me, but to yourself as well.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense.”

“Am I not?” Natasha fires back, her eyes flashing, her smirk carrying an edge of dissent. “Then answer me this, Y/N. Who are you without Wanda?”

“Who am I without Wanda?” You echo her question, your voice dripping with sarcasm, as if the very idea is preposterous. But then the reality of the question hits you like a ton of bricks. You repeat it, softer, almost a whisper, as the world seems to stand still around you. “Who am I without Wanda?” 

It's as if she's pulled the ground from under your feet and you're free-falling, grappling for something solid to hold on to. 

“Yes, Y/N. Who are you? Tell me,” Natasha urges, her voice relentless, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“I…” you begin, your voice faltering. You're the head of a finance department in a multimillion-dollar company. You earn a sizable income. You are the subject of envy among your male colleagues. You reside in a luxurious apartment in Manhattan. You're–

And yet, none of these achievements feel like they define you. 

None of these accolades hold meaning without Wanda. You recall how you had yearned for those promotions, how they were a part of a bigger plan–a plan for a life with Wanda, a shared dream of starting a family. Every milestone, every victory was not just yours, it was hers too. All those achievements were built around the scaffolding of your shared love. 

But everything crumbled when your marriage fell apart.

“And that's exactly why you need this,” Natasha tells you after a long period of silence that you didn’t even notice. Her tone is not condescending, but matter-of-fact, devoid of any satisfaction that she might have been right. “You've become so wrapped up in her that you've forgotten who you are. You need to figure that out, Y/N. You need to know who you are, independently, before you can be with her.”

Natasha then takes a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing. “I talked to Wanda a few weeks ago,” she discloses, and you look up at her in surprise. “She insists that she loves you. And it's possible that she's being honest... or maybe she's trying to convince herself that she does. But do you trust her, Y/N? Can you look me in the eye, right here, right now, and tell me without a shadow of doubt that you believe her?”

Your eyes search Natasha's, looking for signs of manipulation or deceit, but find none. Her question continues to echo in your mind, forcing you to confront something you'd rather not face. It's taunting, almost, making you look deep within yourself for the truth.

You think back to your conversations with Wanda, her promises of love, her regretful apologies. You recall the yearning in her eyes, the vulnerability in her voice, but also the uncertainty, the hesitance. You think about your sessions with Calliope. Each one of them ends in the same way, with you tasked to ruminate over your feelings, to introspect. There's never a concrete conclusion, only a carousel of thoughts that keeps turning, prompting you to understand your emotions better.

There's the constant feeling of jealousy. Random bouts of suspicion, an itch to check her phone, and look into her emails. None of this tells you that you trust Wanda.

“I... I want to,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “But I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

For a moment, there's a heavy silence, punctuated only by your quiet sobs. Then, Natasha moves. She takes a seat beside you again, bridging the space you've unconsciously put between yourselves. She hesitates for a second, as if unsure whether she's crossing a line, before finally placing an arm gently around your back in a silent show of support.

Her touch is unexpected, but it brings a certain level of comfort. In that moment, you realize that, despite everything, Natasha still cares. 

“What if I lose her?” you voice your biggest fear. 

A year–where anything can happen. It’s sailing into the seas without a compass. It’s essentially letting go and letting fate take over. 

“If she truly loves you, she'll wait,” Natasha responds simply. “And if she doesn't... well, then maybe she isn't the one for you after all.”

That stings. But the words resonate within you.

“Take the year, Y/N,” Natasha says softly, her fingers digging slightly into your back as if she can get you to listen more with the action. “Figure yourself out. Prove to me, to yourself, and to Wanda, that you can be someone beyond the prison of your love for the woman who doesn’t even deserve it.”

"If I choose to do this," you say, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Where does that leave us? Can we ever be friends again?”

Natasha is quiet for a moment, mulling over your question.

“This isn't about securing our friendship, or winning me over. It's not a trade-off.” she says.

“Then what is it?” you ask, your face crumpling as another dam breaks within you.

Her eyes seem to plead with you, even as her words keep their distance. “This is about you earning my trust back, not about bargaining for our friendship. This is about you finding a way back to your old self. Your happiness seems so intertwined with Wanda that it feels like you're not whole without her. But ask yourself this, Y/N, can you really be happy constantly doubting? Always second-guessing the sincerity of her love for you?”

“Think about it,” she says quietly. “That's all I'm asking, Y/N. Think about it. Really think about where you are right now. Who you are. What you need. And then decide.”

When you find your way back to Wanda, the look on your face immediately sets off alarm bells.

“Hey, what's wrong?” she asks immediately, pulling you inside the café where the air is much warmer. She touches your skin and lets out a small gasp, “You're freezing!” she exclaims. With a concerned frown, she cups your neck, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your skin as she gently nudges you to look at her. 

In a flurry of movement, Wanda dashes to the backroom to crank up the heater. Returning to your side, she carefully unzips your jacket, before wrapping herself around you in an attempt to share her body heat.

“Y/N?” she implores, her eyes searching the faraway look in yours, willing you to come back to the present. After a moment, you blink several times, as if waking from a dream. Finally, your gaze sharpens, landing on Wanda.

“Wands,” you utter, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling them gently. Leaning in, you plant a tender kiss on her nose, grounding yourself in the moment with her.

“Did something happen with Natasha?” Wanda asks. She tries to steady her heartbeat, fearing what your answer might be.

You shake your head and give her a soft smile, your thumb grazing over her worried brow as you commit to memory every line that time and laughter have carved on her face, and then her eyes–a universe within their own right, trapped in forest green orbs that sheltered you for so long.

“We just said our goodbyes.”

“I'm sorry,” Wanda returns quietly, her concern deepening with each passing moment.

With another shake of your head and an effort to keep the mood light, you divert the conversation. “Let's get back to work for your competition, okay? You're going to do great tomorrow.”

***

Bryant Park is alive with anticipation.

The air is saturated with the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and resonates with the buzz of conversation and laughter. Coffee enthusiasts and competitors alike have gathered here for the highly anticipated annual coffee showdown. 

Your mouth waters at the prospect of tasting these unique and innovative creations crafted by the city's finest experts.

Wanda's booth, unpretentious yet warmly welcoming, serves as the focal point of your day. You, alongside Agatha, have dedicated your time to help her meticulously manage every aspect, while Peter holds down the fort at the cafe.

Wanda’s choice of beans–the ones you'd brought back for her from LA, single-origin and carefully sourced from a quaint little town in Northern Japan–was being used to craft three different offerings: a piping hot brew, a refreshingly cold variant, and an innovative ice-blended concoction.

Beside you, Wanda is a portrait of contained chaos. Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and excitement, dart around incessantly, taking in the hustle and bustle of the competition. Her hand, icy and trembling, has been clutching yours in a vice-like grip for the past hour. You return the pressure every so often, your thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in a silent bid to soothe her nerves. 

“You got this, okay?” you assure her.

She gives you a quick, nervous nod but can't find the words to say anything. You let out a small chuckle, amused at how wound up she is. Despite her being a rookie in this competition, you've got no doubts she'll come out with a win. After a while, she mutters about needing to take a walk and stretch her legs. You nod, understanding her need for a bit of personal space, and secretly grateful for the chance to give your hand, which had been squeezed relentlessly, a break.

In the sea of people, you spot a familiar face–Valkyrie, her broad smile as conspicuous as ever. Her sudden appearance grates on your nerves. It seems she's always present at these occasions, enough to make you wonder if she's on a perpetual campaign trail.

“Running for mayor, Valkyrie?” you can't help but quip as you approach her, your tone laced with annoyance.

Her amused chuckle does nothing to soften the expression on your face. “Believe it or not, I'm not everywhere by choice," she responds, flashing her camera at you. "I'm a photographer, remember? These events are part of my job.”

She says it as though it's a fact you should already be aware of, which only fuels your annoyance further.

“I wasn't aware of that,” you shoot back, frowning at the lens pointed at you.

“Look,Y/N, no hard feelings,” Valkyrie says after she snaps a picture of your scowl. “I wasn't in on all the drama. Wanda gave me the rundown, though. Honestly, I'd probably be jealous of me, too.”

You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms over your chest. “What exactly did Wanda tell you?”

“That you two were married? And you cut her loose after she screwed up? That's kinda harsh, don't you think?”

“Well, you don't have a clue about the things we went through,” you retort rather defensively.

“Perhaps I don't. But I know a thing or two about loss,” Valkyrie counters, removing her gloves to show you her left hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Take a closer look,” she directs, pushing her hand further in front of your nose. Intrigued, you lean in and catch sight of a faint impression on her finger–evidence of a ring once worn.

She used to be married? 

As if reading your thoughts, Valkyrie offers a short explanation, “He died four years ago. It was cancer.”

Your retort dies in your throat. Oh.

After an awkward silence, you manage to stutter out, “I... I'm sorry.”

Valkyrie's smile has a quality that makes you perceive her in a new way. “Time passes,” she says. "People move forward, or they try to, at least."

She puts her gloves back on and readjusts her camera. “Wanda's a good person. And she's gone through a lot too. Be kind to her, okay? She deserves it.”

It’s an advice to be expected from someone on the outside looking in, but it’s also an advice that despite its simplicity, is actually very important and essential in every kind of relationship.

Before you can think of a response, Wanda returns to your side.

“Oh, hey, Val!” Wanda greets, throwing a brief hug around Valkyrie.

Valkyrie gives her a nod before asking, “How about a quick photo, while we wait for the results?”

You can't remember the last time you and Wanda posed for a photo together. There's an awkward moment before you position your hand around her waist, her own arms finding a comfortable place around your neck.

She presses her cheek against yours, her grin so broad it nudges your own expression into a smile. You make a mental note to ask Valkyrie for a copy later.

“Wanda, they’re about to announce the winners!” Agatha pushes through the crowd to reach you both, her face alight with anticipation.

Your heart pounds in your chest as everyone gathers around the stage, the chatter and noise dimming down into a sea of murmurs and excited whispers. The host takes their time, going through the runner ups and then the third place. As each name is announced and it’s not Wanda, your hope dwindles, thinking she may not have placed at all. Wanda recognizes some of them as owners of more-known cafes in her neighborhood.

And then, the host announces the second place winner.

“Second Chances cafe!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and claps, and you find yourself grinning ear to ear as she looks at you in shock and disbelief. Agatha gives a whoop, her arms flying into the air in celebration.

With an excited flush in her cheeks, Wanda takes the stage, her eyes never leaving yours. She accepts the plaque and cradles it with gentle hands, the glow of pride in her eyes enough to make your heart squeeze. As she turns to the crowd, she raises her hand, her fingers wiggling in a modest wave. The crowd roars in response, their cheers echoing in the open park. 

Wanda, second place in her first ever coffee showdown, and with a flavor she put together herself. It's like something out of a dream.

But the dream turns a little sour when you notice the many people coming up to her, showering her with praise, and more than a few of them seeming overly friendly. 

You see people congratulating her as she steps off the stage, handing her flowers and gift baskets, everyone eager to talk to her, to share in her moment of triumph. They are complete strangers, all drawn to her like moths to a flame.

And as you watch, you see them–people flirting with her. Wanda, for her part, remains gracious and kind, her smile never wavering as she laughs at their jokes and thanks them for their praise. 

But something about it makes your skin crawl, makes your hands clench into fists at your side. It isn’t just the jealousy, although that’s a large part of it. It’s the fear, the unshakeable insecurity that even after all you’ve been through, you could still lose her to someone else.

With every laugh she shares, every hand she shakes, the knot in your stomach tightens. You try to shake it off, reminding you that this is the very thing you’re both working on: trust. But as you see the ease with which she interacts with others, the memory of her infidelity looms larger in your mind.

Instead of confronting your feelings, you let them stew, let them build into an almost obsessive preoccupation with the thought of losing Wanda to someone else. It's a spiral you can't seem to pull yourself out of, a cycle of fear and uncertainty that you're trapped in. So, you stay in the background, your eyes locked onto her figure as she laughs and smiles with people who are not you, your mind racing with endless possibilities and outcomes. 

It’s a terrible, consuming feeling.

You should be happy for her. You are. But there's a voice in the back of your head whispering things you don't want to hear, insecurities you don't want to address, and fears you don't want to confront.

Yet they're all there, unavoidable in the wake of her success and the admiration she’s receiving from everyone.

When Wanda finally manages to extricate herself from the crowd and return to you, Natasha's words are already resounding deafeningly in your mind.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda's voice breaks into your thoughts, the warmth in her eyes replaced with concern as she notices your distant expression. You force a smile onto your face, trying to push away the question that’s been haunting you:

Who are you, truly, without her?

“Everything's great,” you assure her, trying to sound more convincing than you feel. Wanda's forehead creases in doubt, but she doesn't push it further. Instead, she takes your hand, holds onto you in case you drift off somewhere she can’t follow. 

Her touch is meant to be soothing, but all it does is remind you of Natasha's challenge and another question pops into your mind:

Will you even survive if she breaks you the second time around?

As you're tucking yourself under the covers, you hear Wanda's voice call out to you, “Hey, Y/N,” causing you to peek out from the duvet.

“Yes?”

“Remember the assignment Calliope gave us? The...uh, eye-gazing thing?” She sounds slightly bashful mentioning it.

Your eyebrows raise in remembrance. “Oh, right,” you murmur, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Do you want to do it now?”

Wanda nods, her eyes already softening in preparation for the exercise. She situates herself across from you, the both of you sitting cross-legged on the large bed. The room is silent except for Sparky’s soft snores coming from the foot of the bed.

You grab your watch and check with Wanda, “Five minutes?”

As soon as she gives her go signal, you press ‘start’ on your watch. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly leave your body, calming your nerves. You lock your gaze with Wanda's, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has come to a standstill.

The first few moments are awkward, and both of you giggle, breaking the silence. But soon, you both fall into a serene silence, eyes never leaving each other. You focus on her eyes, noting the flecks of different hues, the way her eyelashes curl, and how her eyes crinkle when she tries to suppress a smile.

“Are we required not to talk?” Wanda asks in a hushed tone, as if she’ll be reprimanded for it.

You respond with a shake of your head, biting back any words that threaten to slip out. Instead of talking, you allow yourself to reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, all the while keeping your eyes locked with Wanda’s. 

Wanda, understanding the unspoken agreement, begins to mirror your actions. Her fingers, gentle and warm, trace the line of your jaw. The simple, intimate gesture draws a soft breath from you, and in response, your hand comes up to cradle her cheek, thumb lightly brushing her skin.

The air between you two becomes charged, filled with an intimacy that words could never capture. Her touch is feather-light, but it ignites a slow burn in your core, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact.

Despite the lack of words, it's the most profound conversation you've had in a while, a connection so deep that it renders words meaningless. 

You let yourself get lost in her eyes. 

‘Getting lost in one’s eyes’–it’s something you’ve only read in books, a cliche found in romance novels that doesn’t really translate in reality’s fast-paced nature. But with this exercise, you discover that it’s possible. 

Time begins to slow as you swim further in those emerald pools, familiarizing yourself with what’s inside. You’re hyper aware of what you’re seeing, and focus all your emotions on the task at hand. 

But as you delve deeper, a painful realization begins to take shape: your entire purpose revolves around her, with not a sliver of it left for yourself.

Wanda does the same, and it allows her to see something else behind the look of adoration in them. She sees your insecurities. Your fears. But most of all she sees your love for her, the true magnitude of it. Wanda isn't sure what to make of all this, not just yet. Maybe this exercise isn't about finding answers, but rather about observation, about exposure. It's about having faith in each other, trusting that whatever you reveal, whatever pieces of yourselves you lay bare, won’t be dismissed or exploited.

As the final seconds of the five-minute mark wind down, Wanda gently leans in, allowing her forehead to rest against yours.

The last tick of the timer goes unnoticed, lost in the shared warmth between your foreheads. Neither of you makes a move to disengage from the connection, the outside world seemingly forgotten for now.

“Five minutes…” Wanda murmurs softly, more to herself than to you, as though astonished by how much could be conveyed in such a brief span. Her hand, previously resting on your cheek, moves to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

Wanda leans in abruptly, her lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss. It's frantic, bordering on reckless, and for a split second, you fear she's glimpsed the war you’re waging with yourself. Her hands cup your face, her fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer, deeper into the moment.

You respond instinctively, the depth of her kiss stirring a response from within you. Your hands fall on her waist, your nails digging into her flesh. Her shirt has ridden up, and you explore the new expanse of smooth skin available to you, causing goosebumps to rise on Wanda’s skin as she feels the heat of your palm against her hardening nipples. 

“W-We should stop,” Wanda manages to utter but it ends in a yelp as you tweak her peaks with purpose.

“Why?” you breathe out against her ear.

“C-Can’t have sex. Doctor’s orders…” Wanda's words falter as she arches her neck, giving way to your lips and tongue as you move your assaults there. 

The words are like a bucket of ice-cold water, and a sigh of frustration escapes your lips. 

“Right.”

You pull back, extracting yourself from the tangle of limbs and heated desire that Wanda has become. Your body screams in protest, a physical ache that leaves you breathless.

Wanda looks up at you with understanding in her eyes. "I know it's hard," she says, her fingers lightly tracing patterns over the exposed skin of your arm. Your eyes, in a moment of weakness, stray to her panties and see the undeniable evidence of her arousal soaking her underwear. You suppress a groan, flopping back onto the bed to keep your impulses in check. Wanda follows suit and lies on her side, facing you.

Nodding, you swallow down the lump in your throat. “It is,” you admit. You let out a deep sigh, pushing away the longing that threatens to consume you. “But it's necessary,” you add, meeting her gaze head-on. Your fingers trace the line of her jaw, your touch light yet full of promise.

“Seems like my dreams will have to pick up where we left off,” you quip, trying to lighten the mood. 

With a tender laugh, she moves closer to you, resting her head on your chest. “By all means, darling,” she whispers against your skin. “Even in dreams, I belong to you.”

Will Wanda still belong to you a year later?

***

“I’ve been thinking…”

Calliope pays close attention to your thoughtful expression as you search your words. 

“Wanda, she's done some amazing things this past year...and all without me by her side,” you say evenly, staring out of her office window. You seem lost in thought, like you're on the verge of an important realization. Patiently, Calliope waits, letting you take your time to reveal them.

A moment of silence follows your confession, you continue gazing out the window.

“And how does that make you feel?” Calliope gently prompts when it becomes clear that you won't say anything else on your own. 

A deep sigh escapes you as you finally return your gaze to your therapist. “Freeing, in a way–yet kind of sad too,” you confess. “I mean, I'm glad. Wanda's strength... her independence. It's one of the things I love about her. But realizing that she doesn't necessarily need me... it's a strange feeling.”

Calliope steeples her fingers together; She wants to tread lightly, to guide you to self-realization without imposing her interpretations onto your experiences.

“I sense that Wanda not ‘necessarily needing’ you is a point of contention for you. Is that right?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose you could put it that way,” you say, offering her a sad smile.

“Would you mind going into that a bit further, Y/N?” Calliope requests, her tone open and nonjudgmental.

“Yeah, sure,” you begin hesitantly, letting out a small sigh. “I guess you could say... It's like I'm jealous, in a way. It's odd, I know. But when I see her now, how far she's come, the woman she's become since... everything... I can't help but compare it to my own progress.”

“See, I only feel like I truly came back to myself after we reconciled, like I returned to a safe and comfortable cocoon. But Wanda...She's been out there, growing, learning, becoming this incredible person. It's like she's soared to these incredible heights, and I'm still stuck in the same place, trying to catch up.”

You let out a small, hollow chuckle at the irony of your next concern. “And yeah, there's the whole issue of trust. I forgave her for what she did, or at least, I'm trying to. But now I find myself questioning whether I'm good enough for her. I wonder if she deserves someone better, someone who isn't so... diminutive.”

“Feeling 'less than' can be incredibly difficult, especially after experiencing betrayal,” she starts gently. “And it's natural to wonder if the person you love deserves better. But let me remind you, Y/N, that you are not responsible for determining what Wanda deserves or doesn't. Only she can decide that.”

Calliope’s eyes soften as she pauses, letting you absorb her words.

“As for feeling 'diminutive'... Everyone grows at their own pace. Wanda has had her own journey, and you've had yours. There's no definitive timeline or checklist for growth and healing. You are not less valuable or worthy because you perceive yourself as behind her in some way,” she tells you.

The words she speaks should be appeasing, but they just feel empty to you. They're meant to inspire, to motivate, to help, but they don't reach you. They seem to be directed at someone other than the conflicted individual you've become. The detachment is disconcerting, leaving you feeling even more adrift.

With a sigh, you say, “Something happened recently.”

Calliope adjusts the glasses perched on her nose. “Tell me more.”

“Remember Nat? My best friend and Yelena’s sister? She finally talked to me. She, uh, made a suggestion,” you say, shuffling your feet on the carpeted floor. “She thinks my struggles might be more about me than my relationship with Wanda. She suggested I take a year off. To separate from Wanda, to rediscover who I am on my own.”  

Calliope leans back in her chair, taking a moment to consider your words before responding. 

“That's a drastic step,” she acknowledges, her tone neutral. “It's a valid suggestion and one that's often employed in cases where codependency has taken root. As a therapist, I can tell you that taking a step back from a relationship to focus on personal growth can indeed help provide perspective, allow for self-reflection, and foster personal development.”

Her eyes lock onto yours, steady and compassionate. “However,” she continues, “It's a decision you'd have to make with careful consideration. It's not just about time and distance–it's about what you do with that time and how you utilize that distance. Self-discovery requires active engagement. It's not something that just happens.”

You nod in understanding. You haven’t gotten around to thinking about how you will fill that gap year. And it just amplifies Natasha’s belief that you don’t know who you are or what to do with yourself when left to your own devices. 

“What's your instinct telling you, Y/N?” Calliope inquires, taking off her glasses as if to put aside her professional role and connect with you on a more personal level, like a trusted confidant. “Do you feel that taking this time apart from Wanda could help you rediscover who you are outside of your relationship with her?”

You've been so entwined with Wanda for so long, the thought of detaching yourself from her feels like extracting your own heart. A year from her feels more permanent than when you divorced her because you’re not angry this time.

“I don't know…” you admit, your voice becoming thick with emotions. You look down at your hands, flexing them nervously. “Part of me thinks it could help, because… Because it’s getting worse.”

“What is?”

“This… nagging feeling,” you say. “That… That I have to look at her phone, to read all her messages,” you confess, the words leaving your lips in a whisper.Your eyes remain lowered, and your hands betray a subtle tremor as you push forward. “I haven't looked because I can't bring myself to ask Wanda for her permission, and I can't figure out her passcode. And the feeling of jealousy is more frequent now, and it’s not me.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you bare your deepest insecurities to Calliope. The fear of invading Wanda's privacy conflicts with your need for reassurance, for a confirmation that your trust is not misplaced. 

Your confession flows naturally, “I've been under this impression that I need to watch her every move. Yet, I can't shake off the fear that I might overlook something and end up being blindsided again.” There's a pause, followed by a humorless chuckle. “And who am I in all of this mess? If Natasha asked me that question now…” You give a disappointed shake of your head, “I'd probably answer with ‘a bundle of jealousy and insecurity.’”

“I see how that’s extremely difficult for you, Y/N,” she says simply. “You're trying to find out who you are, while at the same time dealing with trust issues. It's like you're walking on a tightrope.”

Tiredness washing over you, you merely hum in agreement, your inner conflict sapping the energy out of you.

“Have you talked to Wanda about this?” Calliope probes, trying to keep the conversation going despite your evident weariness.

“I haven't yet. I'm afraid... I don't want to hurt her, it feels like I've given her false hope.”

“Before you finalize any decision, it would be fair to talk to Wanda. Allow her to give her insights. It's not just about making a decision, it's about including her in the process,” Calliope says. “If you feel that you have already made a decision, tell her before you set any plans in motion. Wanda cares deeply for you and she will understand, no matter what decision you make.”

That's the first piece of advice she's given this session that resonates with you.

“What do you think I should do?” you find yourself asking. The idea of having someone else make this critical decision is temptingly easier. You know how she’s going to respond, but out of desperation, you ask her anyway.

Calliope shakes her head, offering you a knowing smile. 

“Have faith in yourself, in your ability to make the right decisions,” she says.

You bite your lip in resignation. “Can I still come to you for guidance, no matter what I choose in the end?”

“Absolutely,” Calliope nods, seeing the answer to your question in your own eyes before you can even realize it. “We're lucky to live in a time where help can be reached in many ways. As long as you want my help, I'll be here for you.”

***

New Year’s Eve passes by in a blur of fireworks, wine and dancing with Wanda in the kitchen, and the next couple of days slowly settles back to its usual rhythm. The city of Manhattan, once draped in holiday cheer with twinkling lights and a towering Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, slips back into its usual attire.

The days following the celebration return to their familiar tempo, like a song falling back into its regular beat after an energetic chorus. Street vendors replace holiday markets, and the regular hum of traffic replaces carols and festive laughter.

As the first week of January wraps up, you and Wanda find yourselves back in Calliope's office. The session is spent mostly reflecting on your holiday experiences and discussing the eye-gazing exercise Calliope assigned you both. Wanda's vivid storytelling about your LA trip takes center stage, and you find it challenging to stay engaged in the conversation. 

Time seems to slip through your fingers, and before you know it, Wanda's thanking Calliope for the session, and it's time to leave. Despite your quiet demeanor throughout, Calliope doesn't prod you for it. She seems to understand where your thoughts were wandering. The short nod she gives you before you could leave tells you one thing: Talk to Wanda.

Wanda, on the other hand, hasn't overlooked your frequent distant gazes, seemingly lost in your own world. She hasn't missed the way your eyes fleetingly dart to her buzzing phone, filled with messages from her customers and suppliers, as you wait for dinner to be ready. She notices your attentive ears whenever she's on the phone, not making any attempt to have private conversations away from you. She picks up on the tension in your features when you're out together, and an admirer's gaze lingers on her for a tad too long.

She can't help but notice the way you're always a little bit on edge. It makes her wonder if you’re genuinely content with how things are. If you’re happy with her. If this is really working for you. 

But then, behind closed doors, it’s paradise. 

Because when the lights are out, and it's just the two of you, your name is the only one she knows, the only one she calls out into the quiet of the night.

***

Finally, on a quiet Saturday morning, you wake up before Wanda. You watch her sleep, peaceful and untroubled, and you decide–today is the day.

Taking a deep breath, you gently nudge her awake. She stirs, blinking sleepily at you, and you give her a soft smile.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your fingers gently combing through her hair. Wanda snuggles further into the pillow, attempting to shield her eyes from the morning light. For a while, you let her be, savoring the peaceful moment as long as you can.

“Wanda, we need to talk.”

Your voice carries a certain tone that instantly cuts through her sleepiness, washing away the last traces of sleep from Wanda’s eyes. She shifts slightly, propping herself up, her eyes now fully focused on you.

“Alright,” she says, her voice a hushed whisper.

You run your fingers through your hair nervously, leaning against the headboard with your back turned to her. She watches you intently, and you feel the weight of her gaze as you gather your thoughts. Inhaling deeply, you finally speak, your voice soft and almost trembling.

“When Natasha came to see me, it wasn’t just to say our goodbyes,” you begin, feeling Wanda's breath hitch slightly. Her lack of surprise indicates that she's sensed there's been more to it. She's been waiting patiently for you to share what's been troubling you, and now she can connect the dots. 

Something had changed after the day you spoke with Natasha.

She shifts closer, an instinctual pull towards you for comfort. You don't resist, opening your arm for her so she could tuck herself into the curve of your body, her head finding its familiar resting place against your chest.

“She, uh, made a suggestion that at first sounded fucking ridiculous to me," you say with an empty laugh. “She thinks maybe I–maybe I need some time. To figure things out...about myself, by myself.”

Wanda's hold on you becomes firmer, drawing you in as if she could meld you both into one. The added pressure makes the looming conversation even harder to continue.

“She believes it might be good for me–and, well, us–to take a break. A year apart from each other, to rediscover who I am on my own,” you say and glance down, hoping to catch Wanda's eyes, but you find her eyes tightly shut as if your words have physically wounded her.

There's a pause. A long, deafening silence that you're not sure you can stand for much longer. But when Wanda finally speaks, her voice is calm, and there's a strange kind of acceptance in her eyes when she opens them.

“And what do you think?” she asks softly.

“I... I don't know, Wands,” you confess, the nickname slipping out unintentionally as you feel the cracks in your resolve. “I love you, more than anything. But I also... I also feel lost. And I hate this feeling, this...paranoia...jealousy... It's not me. At least, I don't want it to be me.”

You sense a faint nod from Wanda, drawing a small measure of comfort from her understanding.

“Before I make any decision, I wanted to talk to you,” you say, finally lifting your gaze to meet hers again. “I…” you trail off as you watch a glimmer form in her eyes.

“Wands, what are you thinking?” you ask.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against yours. “I've noticed,” she admits, her voice so soft it's almost a whisper. “I've seen how you've been pulling away, getting lost in your thoughts. I just... I hoped it was a phase. But even if it were, it hurts to see you like this.”

You nod, your vision becoming a little blurry. This is harder than you thought it would be.

“Have you reconciled with Natasha?” she suddenly asks.

You shake your head no.

Wanda sighs deeply, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards into a deeper frown. “You remember when we first bumped into each other after our divorce, right?” she starts, shifting closer again as she closes her eyes once more. “I was so determined to win you back. But we both know that didn't end up well. I crashed, you left, and I was alone for the first time in a long while.”

Pausing, she takes a moment to recall everything. “Of course, I missed you. But the thing is, after some time, my perspective changed. I wasn't exactly happy, but I found a sense of contentment. I felt... steady, you know?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “Then I reached out to you again, for Sparky. Seeing you, talking to you, it made the dormant feelings I had for you flutter back to life. But things were different this time. I'd had some time to really work on myself, to define my identity outside of…you. Beyond just wanting you and being guilty of what I did. I learned so much about myself during that time.”

Wanda pauses, her gaze becoming misty, the emotions she'd been holding back threatening to spill over. 

“And maybe,” she hesitates, her voice becoming thick with tears, “Maybe that's what you need too.”

You stare at the ceiling in silence, the enormity of her words sinking in. Your chest is tight, and your head is spinning. 

“Is that what you want?” you ask. It would be easier if this is what Wanda wants.

“I want you to be happy,” Wanda whispers through a cascade of tears and trembling lips. “No, I need you to be happy.”

You look at her, taking in the raw emotion etched on her face. The tears streaming down her cheeks make your heart constrict with a pain more acute than you thought possible.

“You mean so much to me, Wanda,” you choke out as your own eyes begin to sting. “I need to be certain that I'm not only holding onto you because I'm afraid of being alone... or afraid of who I am without you.”

Wanda shifts, her fingers coming up to touch your face. “We're in this together, aren't we?”

The thought of being without Wanda, even if it's for your own self-improvement, leaves an acrid taste in your mouth. It feels so wrong, and yet, it may be what's necessary for you to find your footing again.

“Yes, but this is something I need to figure out on my own. For us,” you emphasize. “For me.”

She looks away for a moment, struggling with her own emotions. “I want to support you,” she starts, “But the thought of losing you, even for a little while, scares me.”

You swallow hard, your heart heavy. “I know. It terrifies me too. But I need to do this so we can have a chance at a future where I'm not always second-guessing and doubting.”

Wanda bites her lip, thinking. After what feels like hours, she finally speaks, “Whatever you decide, just... promise me one thing?”

You nod, urging her to continue.

“That you'll come back to me. No matter what you find or how you change, always come back to me,” she says. “And I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for you.”

“One year,” you whisper as your face becomes wet with tears. No contact. No calls, no emails, no texts. No checking up on each other online. 

Total disconnection.

“A year later, on this day,” Wanda nods despite herself. “We’ll meet again at Second Chances.” Her lips twitch into a tentative, poignant smile, alluding to the deeper sentiment that the name of her coffee shop embodies.

Wanda's tear feels warm against your thumb as you gently wipe it away. You're both quiet for a while, the room filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and the muted ticking of a nearby clock. The decision has been made, the terms agreed upon, and now there is nothing left but to savor these final moments of togetherness.

“Can we... can we just hold each other?” you ask quietly. It's a small comfort, but right now, it's everything. You need to feel her close to you, to memorize the feel of her body against yours before you part ways.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. She needs more than just that.

“Touch me,” she breathes, her words melting into your mouth as she captures your lips in a feverish kiss. “Let me give you everything,” she implores, her hands finding yours in the darkness as her eyes fall shut.

Complying with her heartfelt request, you gently ease her back onto the mattress, your bodies tangled together in a dance as old as time.

And then, in what feels like the mere flutter of a heartbeat, it's a year later.

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[astridthevalkyrie]

the floor between you and xavier is thin. you are beautiful. and xavier is tortured.

cw: afab reader, masturbation, nonconsensual auditory voyeurism 😭, xavier being a pervert

i have a midterm in two hours and i spent the last two hours writing all of this. dammit. inspired by this brilliant post (original poster is @skynapple) thank you for giving me permission to write this lolz

once a habit forms, it is incredibly difficult to break. he knows that. he has known that. xavier has had years and years and years to make habits and to subsequently break them.

those twenty-something years he was a nail biter. the tugging of his hair whenever he was tired for around thirty-two decades. six hundred years strong and he still can’t keep a straight face whenever he smells something his nose doesn’t agree with. 

some habits he’s fine with not breaking. 

but this one.

oh, he needs to break this one as soon as possible.

and yet, every friday evening he tells himself that this time will be the last time. when friday morning arrives, he wakes up refreshed and confident that it will not happen again. by the time the clock hits 3 pm, he can already feel his palms become clammy; if he was a cartoon he’d think an ironic bead of sweat would form on his temple. and by the time the sun is going down and the rain has soaked his hair completely, xavier is shoving his too practical key into the too practical lock of his apartment door, and the dread in his chest has already settled with the weight of what he knows he’s going to do.

he could leave. he could go.

he doesn’t.

xavier takes his time changing out of his uniform and showering. the water burns even when he sets it at a lower temperature. his entire space feels too hot. sweat is actually building on his forehead now. 

it’s been a long week, he thinks, as he rolls onto his bed, opting to wear nothing but boxers (and even that’s useless). he tries to remember all the missions he’s been on since monday, and more importantly all the missions you’ve been on. you’re a bit of a braggart, so he hears all about them, and he never minds, because he could listen to you brag about yourself for centuries on end and the whole time he’d only nod along and agree.

the more missions there’s been, though, the more exhausted you are at the end of the week. and the more exhausted you are, the more orgasms you try to pull from your fingers every friday night.

when tara’s over, your music is never loud. your laughs rarely carry over. and your volume has never been disruptive (not that he would consider hearing you to be disruptive at all). it’s as if you know that the walls are thin and you’re trying to be as polite as possible. 

then why is it that when you touch yourself, you’re so loud?

are you trying to make sure he can hear you?

or, and this is what already has him hardening at the thought, are you just so sensitive that you can’t help it?

your first whimper blesses his ears, and xavier shuts his eyes, lying flat with his head against his pillow. closing his eyes helps. it makes him feel less like a stalker who’s crossed through time and space for you, and more like he’s just someone you care for, because this way he can imagine you’re in front of him, on top of him, letting out those first few sweet sounds at his touch.

“mmh,” your voice carries over, and goosebumps litter his arms as he swallows, teasing the line of his boxers with the tips of his fingers. there isn’t a rush. usually, he has just enough restraint to make sure he comes with you.

the next thing he hears is a sharp gasp, and xavier groans lowly, trying to be quiet, or at least more quiet than you. already he’s building tonight’s fantasy up, spurred on by the sound of the rain beating against the window. the last time you and he had spent the night in the rain…

“just stay until tomorrow morning,” you’d urged him, lashes fluttering innocently, not knowing the key that he’d supposedly forgotten was heavy in his pocket. even though he was the one who’d lied, he’d still argued against it, because now that the invitation was out in the open you were too close for his rapidly beating heart, your eyes too inviting and your hands too soft.

xavier imagines he didn’t argue that night. he imagines he’d agreed instead, and had accepted the change of clothes from your closet. the acid in his chest that hisses knowing you even have another man’s clothes in your closet is quickly silenced when you don’t wait for him to leave the room, and instead lift your own shirt right above your head.

he’s never seen you like that. but his imagination is more than ready to supply him with what you’d look like, evidence gathered from how your uniform would cling to you while you fought, or even from how your robes would slip up a little when you were sparring him some hundred years ago—

his hand wraps around his cock without him even realizing it, and he lets out a small, choked moan.

your hands are softer than this. they’d feel better. in the corner of his mind he sees you, topless, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling above him, caressing his face with those soft hands before running them down his chest. your touch does so love to wander. and his body is yours to explore. he’s never belonged to someone else.

he whispers your name and almost as if in response, you let out a cute little squeal, and xavier curses under his breath as he pictures you making that sound while he fingers you. he’d start off with one, just because you seem sensitive. but then he’d add another. and another, and then he’d watch you ride them. 

slowly, he rubs his hand up and down his length, remembering the last time you’d held this hand to resonate with his evol. last week, for a particularly tough wanderer. your palm had been smooth against it, and now the next time you do it he’ll remember that he touched himself to the thought of you with that same hand.

“mmh, don’t tease me…”

oh, you’re speaking today. pleading with an invisible voice, or maybe you really do know that he’s just below you, hanging on to your every word. and he’s disinclined to acquiesce to your request—he’d do nothing but tease you. once he’d make you come once with his fingers, he’d toss your legs over his shoulders and drag his tongue along your folds, bring you to the brink before pulling away. he’d watch the way your lips pout and the way your eyes flare up whenever you’re emotional, and he wouldn’t give you time to complain before diving in again.

“sorry, sweetheart, you know i can’t help it.”

xavier’s eyes fly open with a gasp at the sudden other voice—there’s someone with you. there’s someone in your room, on your bed, with their hands on you. 

there’s a pause, and then he hears you again, letting out a small, “y-you’re so…haah, mean…”

one of his hands curl into the sheets below, clutching them so tightly in his fist that he wouldn’t be surprised if they came off.

someone is touching you. someone is making you—incredible, wonderful, beautiful you—whine like that, close enough to hear you, far closer than xavier has ever been.  

“i’m not mean,” the man who is invading your bedroom right now says, “you can’t look like that and expect me not to edge you. you’re the most beautiful when you’re begging, you know?”

“i could say the same about you,” is your not-so-hushed response, and during the next pause he can barely hear anything but he knows you must be kissing him. him, whoever he is. a date, your boyfriend, the devil—you’re kissing him, those soft, gorgeous lips of yours are against someone else’s when all xavier has done in his time with you is try to tear his eyes off those lips, wondering what they would like against him.

“c’mon,” your voice pleads again, “i need you. i’ve needed you all day.”

the man groans, and xavier hears the kiss this time, one fierce and stolen in the heat of the moment. 

“if you insist. you know i can’t resist you, sweetheart.”

there’s some shuffling and xavier thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. he feels…he feels everything, sick and jealous and almost angry, and he can feel himself trembling with every inch of him screaming to get up and confront whoever thinks they can touch your skin and draw those noises from your throat—

but when you let out a high-pitched, muffled cry, xavier’s hand goes back down, and he starts stroking himself with more urgency.

you’ve never been this loud before. and xavier used to enjoy that, thinking of it as a challenge, that if he ever got to have you, he’d make sure you were louder with him than you were with anyone else. he’s brought himself to orgasm at just the idea. but now it’s torture, hearing your voice go up several octaves for someone who isn’t him, for whoever’s hips are roughly colliding against your own, filling his ears with a muted plap, plap, plap…

“fu-u-ck, baby, how are you this tight?” the interloper groans, “gonna make me come, m’gonna come inside you…”

xavier’s skin crawls at the needy moan you let out in response.

the fantasy in his head is ruined. there is no more vision of a seductive version of you having your wicked way with him, but instead he is imagining exactly what is happening, a dirty picture of him in a corner watching someone else enjoy you to the fullest extent. wrecking your beautiful body the way you deserve.

your moans are building, higher and higher, and his back is arching off the bed as he fucks his fist, still trying to pretend like he’s yours and you’re his, that he’s the one burying himself inside your wet heat, that your nails are digging into his back, leaving lines on his skin, drawing blood if that’s what you wanted—

“raf!” you wail, and your voice breaks, and xavier’s eyes roll back, and he spills into his hand.

there’s still a ringing in his ears as he pants, breathing heavily while the sound of skin slapping becomes more desperate, as the intruder—raf— speeds up to try and reach his own end too.

his hand moves on its own. with barely an intention formed in his mind, he presses it to his heart, and he feels a surge of energy run through his chest, no time left to regret anything.

the sounds stop completely.

after a minute, his phone lights up with a notification.

starlight: hey did your lights go out too???

starlight: my room just blacked out

starlight: i had a friend over i’m so embarrassed lol

with his chest heaving as he lays back against the pillows, and his right hand sticky, xavier texts you back with his left, a soft, tired sigh escaping him.

xav: no mine’s still on

xav: i’ve got tea and takeout come over

xav: i’d love to meet your friend

#love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #l&ds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #xavier fic #xavier x reader #xavier smut #lads x reader #lads xavier #l&ds x reader #xavier #l&ds fic #xavier x you #xavier x mc #xavier x y/n #love and deepspace xavier #valkyrie stories

[moonstruckme]

Hihi!! I’m brand new here but I love your writing already!! I was wondering if you could write something for James, Remus, or Lily (you can pick!) with a reader who’s absolutely terrified of throwing up and they help her through it when it actually happens? Sorry if it’s worded weirdly or doesn’t make sense 😭😭

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: nausea, mention of vomit, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 616 words

“Sweetheart,” Lily’s perfume fills your lungs with every deep breath you take, sweet and vaguely floral. Grounding. Her hand coasts gently up and down your spine, “you’re only drawing it out.” 

Tears bite at the backs of your eyes, because you know. It’s inevitable, when the first wave has already passed but the nausea hasn’t, that there’s going to be more. And your girlfriend, despite her best intentions, is being so supremely unhelpful by telling you so. 

Which isn’t her fault, you know. You certainly don’t want her to go away, you’re just frustrated and panicky and a bit despairing in your hopelessness. It’s easy to be angry with her, when the true villain is formless.

“I can’t make myself do it,” you choke out, and you have to press your lips together hard right after, swallowing. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Lily promises. She keeps her voice soft and soothing, a caress to your sensitive nerves. A piece of hair falls into your face, and she tucks it back in with the rest, confined to a ponytail at the back of your head. You focus on the gentle scrape of her nails over your scalp. “Just relax, yeah? Let your body do what it needs to.” 

You scrunch your face as another wave of nausea roils through you, squeezing a tear out of one eye. Lily coos and ducks down to kiss it away. Her lips are soft against your cheek, unconcerned with your clammy skin or how awful you know your breath must be, and you’re treated to a sight of her pretty green eyes as she stays crouched beside you. They’re kind, worried. 

“I know you’re nervous,” she says, “but that wasn’t so bad a few minutes ago, was it?” 

“I didn’t love it,” you admit, and she smiles. It’s distractingly lovely. You forget your breathing for a moment, reminded when bile pushes cruelly at the base of your throat. Lily’s expression creases like she can tell. 

“You’ll be so happy once it’s done, pretty girl. So long as you sit here thinking about it it’s still happening, but when it’s over, it’s over.” 

You think to make a reply, something along the lines of I know but that doesn’t make it easier, when your body overrules you. Lily starts rubbing your back again as you cough and gasp, tears slipping off your nose and into the toilet bowl. 

“You’re alright, baby,” she says, sweet-toned and sure. “I’ve got you.” 

You pant like a child as you spit the last of it out, and Lily reaches for the cup of water you’d set aside earlier, passing it to you. You swish and spit into the toilet. You lean back into her, and she receives you happily, adjusting so that you’re partially in her lap and brushing your ponytail to the side. She blows cool air on your nape, making you sigh. 

“You’re so weird,” she says at your reaction, the smile euphonious in her voice. “Do you feel better this time?” 

“I think so,” you answer fretfully. 

Lily combats your anxiety with sureness. “I had a feeling you would.” She brushes a kiss against the shell of your ear. “I know that wasn’t easy, sweetheart. Do you want some of your ice cream as a reward?” 

You groan. “I don’t want to eat anything ever again.” 

“Fair enough,” she laughs. “How about a shower then?” 

You tilt your head back, batting your eyelashes at her. “Will you come with me?” 

Lily clearly makes an effort to keep her smile at bay, but it shows itself in the happy squint of her eyes. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll do anything you like.” 

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