#THE ACCENTS ARE SUCH A BREATH OF FRESH AIR IN VOICE ACTING I LOVE IT

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

so guess which bozo gremlin decided to play reverse 1999 "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

[catch1ngmoths]

ONE NIGHT STAND WITH JOOST🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

-ˋˏ ༻ only stay with you one more night༺ ˎˊ-

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋"so I cross my heart and I hope to die…that I’ll only stay with you one more night." - maroon 5𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: Joost sees you at a party and immediately becomes head over heels. While alone he approaches you, things escalate, but maybe you both wanted to stay…

Note: I POSTED MY LAST POST LIKE 10 MINUTES AGO AND I ALREADY HAVE TWO REQUESTS, yall always come in clutch istg??! Anyways love yall, part two maaaaybe..?

Warnings: Slight fluff, SMUT!! Maybe some angst near the end (?)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

You didn’t wanna go to this party, you knew you didn’t. You’d much rather stay home but after minutes of begging from your friends you groan and agree. Your friends clap excitedly and drag you to help with your makeup. You can’t lie, they did a pretty good job…you looked hot. You decided to put on your favorite dress becuase fuck it, why not. It didn’t look like you were trying too hard but it’s also not elegant and super fancy. It was perfect.

Soon after you all arrived your friends dragged you to get drinks, squealing and dancing as you stood back. You preferred people watching over dancing, you were the mom friend and looked over your friends. Especially since they didn’t seem to aware of their surroundings. As you were stood there you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you.

You look up and see him, a blond guy with a rocker style and piercing blue eyes. As you lock eyes he turns away, acting as if he didn’t pay any mind to you in the first place. You keep your eyes on him for a little, looking over him. He was cute, very cute. More than cute…he had a certain energy about him. You could normally tell which guys were trouble and which weren’t but he was so different. He had an energy that pulled you in and intoxicated your senses.

Your racing thoughts were cut off by the sound of your friend calling your name, calling you to the dance floor. You rolled your eyes playfully with a smile on your lips as you join your friends. Body swaying with theirs.

It didn’t take long for your friends to be absolutely wasted while you didn’t have any more then one drink. You called Ubers for all of them to make sure they got home safe and once you knew they were all good you leaned against the wall outside the club and took a breath of fresh air.

You started thinking of anything you wanted, finally having a time of peace. Before you heard a shuffling behind you. You turn your head to see the guy from before, cigarette between his lips and leaning on the same wall you were. A surprising comfortable silence settled between the both of you before it was broken by a low voice.

“Never seen you here before..” he speaks, a clear accent spilling from his lips. “Eh…I don’t come here often, I just got dragged here by my friends.” You say with a slight chuckle, looking at his side profile in awe. He really was the definition of beauty. His head stays still but his eyes look to you before returning at their original position.

He chuckles and it sends a shiver through your body, “got a staring problem or somthing, hm?” He says blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the air before tossing it to the side and stomping on it. His body turning to face you, “couldn’t keep my eyes off you lieverd, your one pretty girl you know that eh?” He smiled

His smile was so infectious that you found yourself smiling as well, “I could say the same for you…uh…” you say, realizing you don’t know his name. He catches on and utters, “Joost. And you.?” He says as you look at him with doe eyes that almost bring him to his knees

“Y/n…” you say softly feeling affected by him being so close, “y/n huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says with a cocky smirk, shuffling closer to you. You both weren’t drunk but it was clear you’d both had some drinks, giving you both liquid courage. Your heads face each other, eyes locked and lips close. Before both of you can even think you both rush forward into a heated kiss.

It’s breathy, grabbing at each other desperately as he pushing his weight against you holding your chin with one hand. “Mine” kiss “m-mine or-“ kiss “mine or yours liefje..?” He mutters between heated kisses, “m-mine..” you whine, feeling better about it being at your house over his.

After a Uber ride filed with sexual tension and heavy air you both burst through the front door, unable to keep y’all’s hands off each other. You lead him to your room, practically pulling each others clothes off like wild animals.

He lays you back on your bed gently and kisses from your neck down to your now exposed chest, you were both only covered by y’all’s underwear. He clips off your bra, showing love to both breasts as you run your hands through his hair moaning out. He kisses down your soft stomach untill he reaches where you needed him the most.

“J-Joost..please..” you whine out, squirming under his hot breath and teasing touch. A harsh slap to your thigh makes you throw your head back and whimper tears brimming in your eyes. He peppers soft kisses to where a pink hand mark was starting to form with a snicker.

He pulls off his boxers and pulls your underwear down as well. He kisses back up your body, pressing soft and loving kisses to your swollen lips. “Ready honey?” He asks softly, eyes looking at you with nothing but affection. You can only nod frantically making him chuckle.

He slowly slides into you with a groan, both of you throwing y’all’s heads back. He thrusts harshly into you, making your brain short circuit. His kisses to your body are the polar opposite to how his dick abuses your cunt making you see stars as you moan out his name.

A few minutes of sweet pleasure makes you whine as you grasp his hand tight, half lidded eyes looking into his. “J-Joost I-I’m…” you whimper as his dick hits just the right spot, knocking the words out of you. “Go on baby…fuck..go on” he groans as he lowers his head to kiss your head.

You both let go and ride out your high together, him letting out sweet words of praise as you let out soft moans and whimpers. He lifts his head to look at you with adoration, kissing your soft lips once more before going and getting a cloth to clean you both up.

The last you remember is snuggling up to his side and falling asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of soft fingers stroking your back gently…..

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your eyes open to the sound of the morning birds and the blinding light shining in through your window. You don’t feel warm anymore; no longer in his arms and alas alone in your bed. You lift your body out your bed, looking around for him.

Of course you knew this was a one night stand, both of you did. You knew it the moment his lips connected with yours. But some part of you wanted him to stay..the way he looked at you was not the way someone looked at another person they just wanted to fuck and be done with.

Little did you know, he felt the exact same. He woke up to the safe and comforting feeling of the weight of your head on his chest, but he knew he couldn’t stay. His mind felt plagued as he picked up his clothes that were scattered across your floor. He softly kissed your head before fighting all his instincts and closing your door, ordering an Uber home.

He hoped if he just left that he’d forget about you soon enough…

He didn’t.

Part two: https://www.tumblr.com/catch1ngmoths/751209894218170368/%F0%93%87%BC-time-after-time-%F0%93%8D%A2-if-your-lost-you

[grapejuicestyless]

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

[daceydeath]

Ateez with an Older Significant Other

Pairing: 08t x reader Word Count: 3.1K Genre: Fluff Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive themes

How Ateez would deal with their significant other having some insecurities about their age and the age gap between them.

AN: This is obviously purely fiction and doesn't represent the preferences of any of the members. It's purely just a scenario my brain came up with try not to take it too seriously.

Hongjoong: "Should I package this up for your personal assistant while you continue browsing sir?" The sweet accented voice of the boutique assistant's voice rang out over the quiet of the shop, making you look up to see who she was speaking to since you were almost certain it was only you and Hongjoong in the shop.

""I'm sorry?" Hongjoong instantly answered, sounding confused but remaining as polite as possible.

"Oh, is the older woman you are with not your assistant? should I have said manager?" she apologized quickly looking slightly panicked.

"No, it's fine" you interrupted, holding up your hand to prevent her apologizing further "yes please package that up" you smiled warmly despite the fact that you felt sick to your stomach. She smiled in relief and began packing the bag that Hongjoong had chosen as he looked at you, his eyes a mix of emotions that swirled rapidly. He paid quickly and you took the bag into your hands thanking her before making a quick exit from the boutique.

"Baby?" Hongjoong questioned as you swallowed hard as the crisp breeze blew past you smelling of coffee and fresh pastries, you knew you shouldn't have come on this quick trip to France with him but he had announced that he wanted to walk the streets holding your hand and getting to be invisible for a day.

"I'm alright" you mumbled quickly, maintaining the air of nonchalance as best you could even though you knew he would see straight through the act. He knew you too well.

"Bullshit" he whispered into your ear making you unintentionally sigh as his breath tickled your cheek "We're heading back to the hotel and we will come out again later once you feel better".

You walked back to the hotel your fingers interlocked with his as had shielded you with his umbrella when a light sprinkle of rain appeared looking every bit the heart throb to millions you knew he was. Arriving back to your shared room he dropped your bags and pulled you into his arms holding you tightly.

"Do you think I'm too old for you?" you mused into his chest absorbing his warmth.

"No, I think you're absolutely perfect" he mumbled, squeezing you tighter.

"Joonie, I am not perfect" you hummed, letting him go so you could look at his face "I'm old enough to be mistaken for your older manager by cute little shop assistants".

"Baby I love that you are older than me" he smiled reassuringly cupping your face gently "You understand my responsibilities and you allow me time to do my job without needing to be reassured that I love you all the time, without the drama of not feeling able to trust me around the girl groups".

"You are too pretty for your own good Joonie" you swallowed hard, leaning in to kiss him softly, the feeling of his lips on yours helping to melt away your worries.

Seonghwa: Secretly dating an idol was hard, there was no doubt about it but Seonghwa was worth it so every time he was snuck to your house for a date or you were snuck into the dorms you were grateful. The staff had always been kind to you during these times you guessed they were relieved that you weren't some giggling stupid girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut but rather a woman with a career and responsibilities of her own that wasn't begging for Seonghwa's time every moment of the day.

Opening the door you greeted one of the usual staff who would take you to a secondary location to get in another car to take you to the dorms so that no one clued in to who you were or where you were going. She was always very polite and friendly talking to you about your shared interests like your pets, what movies or dramas you had seen so you were always relaxed with her. When you arrived at the dorms you went up the garage stairs one floor before you got into the elevator and met with one or more of the other staff who would take you up walking into the hall you overheard them waiting for you

"I can't believe a man as good looking and sexy as Seonghwa wants to waste himself on an old woman like her?" one snickered.

"She isn't old and you're just jealous because he would never be interested in you" the other sighed loudly, sounding bored.

"She's so much older than him though, it's gross" the first huffed, doubling down on her dislike of you. You opened the door loudly then closed it to make it seem like you had just arrived and hadn’t heard their gossiping.

"This way noona" the second one smiled, leading you to the lift and taking you upstairs to the dorm, waiting until the doors closed before she turned to you "Ignore her she is jealous of you".

You nodded, smiling tightly at her as you made your way to the dorm door, you knocked softly waiting for Hwa to open it pulling you instantly into his arms.

"What's wrong, my love?" he whispered, instantly picking up your sadness.

"Do you care how much older I am than you, Hwa? Is it going to be a problem later?" you murmured into his chests.

"No, why would anyone care? I'm in love with you, only you" he soothed as you pulled yourself back together "who told you otherwise?".

"One of your staffers called me an old woman and said us being together was disgusting" you sighed looking up at his face, his eyes going from worried to angry in a flash.

"Well she won't be one of our staffers for much longer then" he frowned, "but you my love, you I love with my whole heart".

Yunho: Age was always something unspoken between the both of you, he knew you were older than his members and he had told all of his members that you were their noona and you knew that he was too young to be tied down too tightly. Sitting scrolling your phone on the couch behind him, Yeosang and Mingi who were sprawled out playing video games you couldn't help but smile as Yunho leaned his head back to rest against your thigh.

"Yunho this isn't the best date idea for noona, to just sit and watch you squabble with each other" Hongjoong scolded lightly coming in from the almost entire day he had spent in the studio.

"Noona doesn't care what we do as long as we are in the same place" Yunho groaned before he could be lectured again making you smirk a little.

"Noona is a lady you should be treating her like one, not having her hang out with you behaving like a teenager" Hongjoong muttered knowing Yunho was not going to listen anyway. After whatever raid, their party was on, Mingi got up to stretch, then went to get snacks and Yeosang went to get a drink, leaving just Yunho and you.

"Is he right? Would you rather being going out to cafes or museums or something?" He asked softly to sit in front of you to take one of your hands in his.

"No Yuyu, I know that those things aren't as interesting to you so I am happy to stay here while you raid with Mingi and Sangie" you sighed as he smiled widely.

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" he asked, poking one of your cheeks.

"No I want you to do what you want in your downtime, you have so little of it after all" you smiled reassuringly "But if it bothers you that I'm older right now then I can go home again".

"NO!" Yunho lunged forward pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss "I love that you let me be me, you don't try to change me, you just accept days like these or days when I take you for fancy dates". His face so close to yours his confession came out as a whisper

"Love you my Yuyu" you whispered, kissing him slowly as he moved to pull you into his lap on the floor, his large hands finding their way to your hips and arse.

"Ah my eyes" Mingi groaned in faux offense as he walked in on your slightly more compromising position.

“Shut up” Yunho mumbled, kissing you again.

Yeosang: Laying beside him in bed still coming down from the orgasm he had just given you, you couldn't help the need to ask him what had been sitting in the back of your mind for the past few months. Sure you had talked about it when he had first asked for you number and again when he had asked you out for a date but it hadn’t really ever been discussed between you as a couple.

"Does it bother you that I'm older than you?" You ask rolling onto your side and propping yourself up on your elbow as your eyes gaze over his face and shoulders

"No" he opened one eye to look at you still basking in his post coital bliss.

"Because it's not just a year or two I'm a lot older" You pressed not sure if he understood what you were getting at.

"I love that you're older, I love that you know so much, I love that you have experience and... I love that you can guide me" he blushed prettily as he spoke chewing on his lower lip slightly.

"I love you too Sangie" you smiled as he reached out to cup your face leaning forward to kiss you.

"Besides you don't care I'm younger so why should it matter to me?" he smiled as a look of realization crossed your face.

"Round two then?" he smirked as you whined under his touch.

San: While you waited for San to return to the dorm from the gym you had been chatting with Seonghwa and Mingi not really knowing that San had never told them how much older you were than him so when you had inadvertently let it slip that the gap was more than they realized it had a more dramatic reaction than you expected.

"Wow I mean he told us you're our noona but we assumed it was a smaller gap than that" Mingi gawked as his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh" was all you could get out before you heard the front door to the dorm open and San's gym bag hit the floor while he took his shoes off.

"Hey pretty baby, you're early" he grinned, dropping a kiss onto the crown of your head as he walked behind the couch you were sitting on.

"You never told us noona was way older than us" Mingi announced looking at San who was standing behind you.

"Song Mingi!" Seonghwa chastised "you don't tell a woman she's old even if she's 90, what is wrong with you? Noona isn’t even old".

"Shit sorry, I didn't mean you are old I just thought you were like a year older than Seonghwa so I was surprised that it was more than that" Mingi apologized apparently just realizing what he had said.

"It's alright Mingi, I am older than San" you smiled lightly as San instantly noticed the tension that is now locked in your shoulders.

"How about I shower, you change and we go out to eat?" San tilted your head back to look at him, his eyes soft as they made contact with yours.

"I would love that Sannie" you smiled properly as he took your hand to lead you around the couch and up the hall to his room. Once he opened the door and you crossed the threshold he cupped your face fully kissing you like you were made of glass and had to be treated with the utmost care.

"Do you care that I am so much older?" you mumbled anxiety pooling in your stomach.

"No, never have and never will, pretty baby" he grinned, pecking your lips again "and Mingi will be sending you the largest bunch of flowers he can find to your office tomorrow".

"Sannie!" you playfully smacked his broad chest.

"He made my pretty baby doubt herself so he will apologize" he shrugged pulling his shirt over his head "now do you want to shower with me or just get changed?"

Mingi: Both of you being fairly casual people had made it incredibly easy for you to be together, you were happy to lay on your couch in Mingi's arms watching movies or binging TV shows, you were also happy to sit on his bed or on the couch reading in the dorm while he wrote or composed just being with him made you happy so the idea that your age difference would be a problem hadn't dawned on you until he mentioned that he wanted you to come stay with him during a break they were all getting before the next part of their tour.

"Mingi, what if your parents have an issue with us being together?" you asked tentatively as you watched him pick out his clothes to pack.

"Why would they have a problem bunny? I love you they will too" he turned looking deeply confused, his lips pouting slightly as he pondered your face.

"Baby boy, we have a pretty large age gap, it might bother them" you sighed as he added a small frown to the pout.

"It won't and if it did, hypothetically, they would just have to deal with it. You're my bunny and I won't let you go" he huffed coming over to you to wrap his arms around you pressing his face into your neck breathing in deeply.

"I don't want to be the reason for a fight, baby boy, especially with your family" you whispered.

"You won't be bunny" he mumbled against your skin "I already told them you are older than me and that I am happy".

"I only want to make you happy" you giggled as he pressed delicate kisses against your skin.

"You make me the happiest my bunny" he grinned before tackling you down onto the bed.

Wooyoung: Wooyoung had taken you to dinner after he finished his schedule earlier than expected, to an Italian place that he wanted to try out. You could feel the waitress' eyes on you when she sat you a mix of jealousy that you were with him but also something that looked a lot like judgment to you.

"Does it ever bother you that I'm older than you?" You asked as you watched him from across the table twirling his pasta on his fork.

"Should it?" he raised his eyebrow at you playfully.

"Woo, not everything is a joke" you sighed, picking up your wine glass "I'm serious".

"I know sweetness, and your age has never been and will never be a problem" he smiled genuinely, his eyes showing utter sincerity.

"Even if I can't give you children?" you whispered, admitting your deepest fear out loud, he may not yet have thought about it but you had he was still too young to want to be a father yet but you would be too old in your own mind by the time he would likely be ready.

"We already have my brother and Sannie?" Seonghwa puts down his cutlery and takes your hand from across the table “How many more kids did you want?”.

"I meant actually children" you chuckle looking at his lopsided grin.

"I don't care about hypothetical children, sweetness, I care that I get to spend my life with you, that is all that matters to me" he squeezed your fingers softly.

"Although I do love the children we already have" you conceded making his face light up.

Jongho: Your relationship with Jongho wasn't exactly new, you had known all of the members for a couple of years since you also worked in the entertainment industry except unlike idols who had to worry about their image. You were a production assistant for Music Core so your relationships were never scrutinized.

That didn't stop your surprise when flowers started arriving at your office or when eventually Jongho worked up enough courage to confess how he felt and ask you on a date. You had always found him beautiful but assumed he would never show any interest in you given your age compared to his but six months later you found yourself in his dorm sitting on a sofa having the strangest conversation of your life.

"Jongho it isn't that we don't trust you or that we don't think you mean it when you say you love her it's just that..." Hongjoong explained before Wooyoung butted in

"But noona is much older than you and I don't know if that is such a great idea since she works in the media" Wooyoung said as tactfully as he could, which to say was not tactful in the least. "What if you start wanting different things?"

"That is not what he means" San turned to you as you just looked between the 8 of them all seemingly wanting to throw their two cents in as once "Wooyoung can be an idiot at times".

"Don't insult her hyung" Jongho snapped, raising his voice slightly, making the others look a little wary.

"No one insulted anyone" Yunho interrupted carefully “we are just concerned about you”.

"Wooyoung literally just did" Jongho ground, looking more annoyed with each sentence uttered

"Maybe it would be easier if I just left so you can all sort this out without me" you sighed, effectively silencing them all with a sad smile.

"No, please, we don't want you to think any of us have a problem with your relationship with Jongho" Seonghwa turned to you looking a little lost on how to continue.

"I know I am older than Jongho, that is a well established fact, but if it is going to cause issues I can only apologize and ask you to move past them. I cannot change my age" You rationalized as calmly as you could to keep them from arguing again. “And if it’s because of my job, you know that I am never going to say or do anything that would jeopardize Jongho or your careers”.

"I don't care if she is older" Jongho announced, his eyes full of defiance as he looked at each of the members "I love her and I don’t care what you think". You reached for his hand and squeezed it fondly knowing how big a step it was for him to admit to the others he loved you, he brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles gently as he looked at you with soft eyes.

"Awww so cute" San cooed, smiling widely as Wooyoung got swatted on the back of the head by Hongjoong.

AN: Thank you for reading my beloved ones, as always all your support, likes, reblogs and comments keep me well fed xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[kjmalfoy]

Fatherly Love• 18+ Content

Warnings- Age Gap, Verbal And Physical Abuse, Inflicted Self-Harm (Reader Smashes a Mirror), Daddy Issues, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, PTSD.

Summary- After nearly risking a mission, Price calls you back into his office— not afraid to let out his anger, trigger some rough childhood memories.

Parings- John!Price x F!Reader

Word Count- Roughly 1.3K

Author’s Note- I’ll admit, I wrote this for myself.. and this isn’t my thing. This was supposed to be smut butttt my daddy issues said nahhh

Mixing pleasure and business was never a good idea, especially when it was your captain. Nonetheless, you and John gave in to your desires. Working out a romantic and business relationship was extremely hard, and right now was one of those hardships. 

Nearly getting yourself killed on a mission, Price gave you an earful… Not holding himself back in front of the team. John was fuming, and you knew he wasn’t done with his lecture when he demanded you into his office. 

Standing there like a lost puppy, you looked up at John with wide eyes, fighting back those tears. Price stood against his desk, his hands covering his mouth as his eyes bore into you; undetected emotions pooling those blue eyes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that stunt you pulled was?” He questioned with a calm tone of voice, almost a hint of disappointment. 

You sighed heavily, “Look, I’m sorry. I panicked, okay?” You attempted to explain yourself, not truly understanding the intensity of the situation.

John scuffed, looking at you in shock. “You panicked?! [Y/n], this is exactly why I didn’t want you in the field. You can’t handle it!” He scolded, raising his voice. 

You gulped down, tears slowly clouding your vision. The disappointment and rage in Price’s voice flipped a switch in you; making those unresolved fatherly issues bubble up. 

Frozen in place, you stood there just looking at John; blinking like a lost puppy who had been dumped by their owner. You could feel your lips quiver, strong; heavy emotions starting to unravel. 

Price coughed, “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” He questioned you, his voice was stern, almost clear of any leniency. 

Sucking in your quivering lips, you took a gust of air; filling your lungs with fresh air. “I-I’m sorry..” You said, just barely above a whisper. 

A sarcastic chuckle slipped from John’s mouth, his cold eyes just gazing into you. He kept his eyes on you for a solid minute, just standing there— those emotionless eyes boring into your soul. 

You averted your gaze, staring down at your fingers; watching yourself as you anxiously picked at the skin around your nail beds. You could hear his fingertips tap along his desk, the gears in his head working in full motion as he studied you. 

The eerie snap of John’s fingers drew your attention back to him, his eyes still not giving up on breaking you. “Come here, Sergeant.” He spoke with a demanding voice, the thickness of his accent making you cower. 

Obeying to his words, you slowly stepped forward— closing off the gap between your bodies. Without a warning, Price latched his hands on your cheeks; his rough grip making your lips pucker in a pout. 

With widened eyes, you stared at Price— taken back by the sudden form of roughness. “John?” You muttered, barely able to speak from the grip he had on you. 

Price shook his head, his grip only tightening. “That’s not my name.” He said coldly, leaving no hints of gentleness in his voice— his main goal was now to put fear in your body. 

You took a shallow breath, attempting to blink away the tears glossing over your eyes. “Yes, Captain.” You said formally, submitting to Price. 

He pulled your face closer, his beard barely brushing against your skin. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll have your ass removed from this team.” Price warned you with a grave tone of voice. 

“You’re a goddamn Sergeant, act like it.” 

Just like that, the switch flickered on. You felt like a young child again, standing awkwardly as your father reprimanded you for idiotic behavior— yelling about how much of a “screw up” you were. 

Uncontrollably, the tears in your eyes ripped free— heavy streams of hot tears poured down your cheeks, staining your skin with the glossy effect. Price’s words cut deep, digging up the memories and emotions you fought so hard to bury. 

Although he wasn't yelling in your face, his demeanor put you on edge. Those cold, lifeless eyes made you quake— fear and anxiety consuming your body as he refused to look away from you... As if he were enjoying watching you cry, watching your body crumble from his words. 

Your chest heaved, sniffling uncontrollably as you tried to suck air back into your empty lungs. You reached for Price’s wrist, trying to pull his grip away from your face. “Captain, please. I’m sorry.” You said with an airy voice, the aching feeling consuming your throat. 

Price narrowed his gaze, looking at you with unamused eyes. He didn’t seem to care for your crying or the way you clawed at his wrist. Finally, he let go— indentations from his fingers burning into your skin, making your skin throb with pain. 

You placed your hands over your cheeks, trying to soothe the pain. Unintentionally, you backed away from Price— the close distance putting you on edge. But, yet you didn’t leave. Afraid of going against his permission, you stayed in his office. 

You cleared your throat, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your shirt. “Can I leave?” You asked in a whisper, almost afraid your voice would set him off again. 

John turned his back to you, walking around his desk; sitting in his leather chair. He kicked his feet up, crossing his legs as he grabbed his cigar. He tossed you an unamused look, “You can go now, Sergeant.” Price dismissed you without any concern. 

Without another word, you eagerly left Price’s office— not bothering to shut the door before running to your shared sleeping quarters. You slammed the bedroom door shut, pressing your back against the wood and sliding down. 

You brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs— desperate for the fatherly comfort Price failed to give you. Tucking your head between your legs, you let the tears fall— no longer fighting against them. 

You could feel your body tremble with each desperate cry for help— your eyes starting to sting from the excess crying, the ducts in your eyes feeling like they would dry out. 

Lazily, you reached for the doorknob; switching on the lock as you knew Price wouldn’t come sleep by your side tonight. You pulled yourself to your feet, walking towards the mirror attached to the dresser. 

You stood there, staring at your reflection. You didn’t see the woman you were currently, instead, you saw the little girl who was sobbing her heart out after her father had ridiculed her for a simple mistake. 

Moving closer, you examined the fingerprints that Price has embedded into your skin. Anger slowly mixed into your sadness as you studied the bruises on your cheeks. Without thinking, you grabbed Price’s cigar box— throwing it at the mirror, shattering the glass to pieces. 

As you slammed your bawled-up hands against the dresser, the tiny shards of glass pierced through your skin— prickling you with a stinging sensation, but yet you couldn’t feel it. 

You didn’t feel anything, your body was so numb and tired with sadness and rage; all you could do was stare blankly at your bleeding hands. Shakily, you pried open your hands, glass shards poking out of your skin. 

Taking a deep breath, you yanked out the large shard of glass that poked into your skin— making no noise as the fresh air penetrated your sizzling wounds. 

You grabbed an old t-shirt, not bothering to wash your wounds before wrapping the fabric around your hand— letting it soak up the blood.  The gray fabric soon became a dark red color, your blood seeping through the soft fabric. 

Sighing loudly at your impulsive outburst, you wanted to do nothing but crawl into bed— and that’s precisely what you did. You crawled into your bed, clutching onto John’s pillow; starting to tremble as you inhaled his cologne. 

You pulled his pillow closer to your chest, letting it soak up your tears as you cried yourself to sleep; consumed with the feeling and memories of being dad’s screw-up. 

Thank you all for reading! I apologize for being somewhat nonexistent anymore. I’ve kinda fell out of my writing phase, but I’m slowly working my way back into it.

I’ll still be working on my Bucky fics, but I will be exploring other fandoms now.. Especially since I have an MW2 brainrot LOL.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated 🤗

Masterlist ❤️

[daisybianca]

pairing: lewis hamilton x femalereader

summary: friends and family are gathered in your father's, Toto's house, in order to celebrate his birthday. Lewis, however, can't keep his hand off of you.

warnings: dirty talking, swearing, teasing, sexual tension

LEWIS' HAND ON your back drew smooth circles as the crowed around you began to surround you in a suffocating way.

It was your father's, Toto Wolff's 51st birthday after all, so you had to endure the torture of piercing and penetrating muffled noises. Your father's house, once upon a time your house too, was full of other drivers and some other close friends of your family.

Your boyfriend's conversation with your father came to a finale when your father dismissed himself to go find some of his friends, who had just arrived at the party.

Lewis continued forming round shapes and loops on your almost bare back and he didn't hesitate for a single moment when his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck and left a wet spot there.

You flinched. "Babe, stop, there're people around us."

He looked at you with those brown, puppy eyes and while caressing your cheek with his thumb, he mumbled, "You're so goddamn beautiful in this dress. I can't help it, love." Lewis referred to the red fabric hugging tightly your figure.

A few guests waved at you and you pinched Lewis' elbow in order to wave back at them politely.

"When the cake is served, we'll be alone in no time." You ensured him. You wanted this as much as he did. You could feel the soft spot between your thighs throbbing at your boyfriend's activities and words. You were soaked underneath your underwear, but you wouldn't let him know that. Or else things would probably get wilder in a blink. "Please, act normal until then." You pleaded and turned to him once again but your eyes didn't find his familiar ones next to you.

Two hands made their way up your stomach and Lewis' hot breaths were next to your ear as he hugged you from behind, not letting go. "Hmm, you want me to act normal, huh?" His accent pronounced confidently.

"Yes. Until we get home. Please, Lewis, I-."

"So, I'll have to act as if I don't want to bend you over that table right now..." He gestured to a table a few feet away, encircled by some of your family members and friends. "And fuck you until you beg for more? Hmm? That's what you want me to do, love?" His voice was so steady. Yet your legs suddenly felt extremely wooby.

You blinked twice.

You gazed at him and grabbing your hand gently, he guided you to one of the rooms of the upper floor. You both smiled at the guests and claimed you need to get some fresh air and headed for the balcony upstairs.

You looked at Lewis and his smirk was so wide as you passed some people. He kissed your forehead, pressing his lips there as you followed him. His hand didn't leave yours at all. "You are mine for the rest of the night." His mouth next to your ear was something truly arousing. "And for tomorrow, and for the day after that..."

●○•°°•○●

Requests are always open for my wags <3

[ponyosmom35]

comfort

Simon Riley x reader

Liability series chapter twenty eight

Synopsis: reader gets into a massive fight about politics with her father, leaving her upset as she and Simon go up to her room to calm her down. 

Warnings: fighting, angst, cursing, fluff, Simon is a sweetheart. 

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

she rushes up to her room with Simon hot on her trail. His heavy footsteps following hers as shes stomp to her childhood room. She slams the door open ignoring the loud yells from her father from downstairs. She paces back and forth as Simon gently closes the door.

“no he’s such a fucking idiot! I literally don’t understand how the fuck he can act this way?! Like he doesn’t fucking listen, he just waits for me to be done talking so he can push his idiotic views on me fuck it’s so goddamn stupid I hate being here!” she rants loudly

“baby” Simon says gently

She whip around to face him, her red and angry face finds him sitting on her bed scratching the back of his head. “am I wrong? I mean you can’t just pick and choose when you support trans rights, you can’t sit here and say that you don’t care what people do as long as their happy and then turn around and make all of those horrible points! what the fuck that is fucking insane and it makes me sick that he thinks that way! It doesn’t even make any fucking sense” she exclaims

“love-”

“Simon he just keep interrupting me without letting me get a single point out, like that isn’t how you have a fucking conversation let me speak, why don’t you respect me enough to hear what I have to say?”

“y/n-”

“I listen to him and once I start to speak about something that he doesn’t agree with- that's when he stops listening. Give me basic respect goddamn he has no idea how to talk to somebody then the fucking gaslighting starts, ‘oh I'm sorry I’m a terrible father who you can't stand I love you more than you'll ever know’ shut the fuck up with that I’m not gonna feel sorry for you and apologize this is a matter of human fucking rights-”

“baby stop, take a deep breath” Simon interrupts. She glares at him as she attempts to keep her anger at her father rather than shifting it to him. “do you agree with him or something?” she asks, crossing her arms. 

Simon stands and places his hands on her shoulders, staring down at her lovingly. He knew that it took quite a lot to work her up to the point where she would actually fight. Once she reached that level she was not gonna back down. Though he didn’t like seeing her fight with her father, he coudln’t help but admire the way she stuck up for what she believed in. He smiles “no I’m so proud of you and how you fought for what's right. you are 100% correct with everything you said”

“its so fucking infuriating” She says as her lips begins to tremble. Her eyes gloss over and she tries to blink away the tears but they fall quickly. He pulls her into a hug instantly, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I know lovie”

“I’m not even upset it’s just…” She trials off “I get it” he responds

Simon pulls back slightly, pushing her hair behind her ears and wiping the tears. She sniffles and he lets her go, allowing her to take off her glasses and clean them off from the fresh tears. She stares at the wall as the voices of her parents arguing through the walls pierces her ears. Simon wraps himself around her, pulling ger into him as he holds his head on her shoulder. She holds onto his forearm as he begins rocking them back and forth. He starts kissing her neck, knowing how ticklish she was there. 

She bursts out laughing at the song and allow him to turn her body, so they were facing each other. He pulls her into him, lifting her up in the air over his shoulder. She gasps as the air is taken from her lungs and wheezes loudly. “put me down” she laughs

“sorry love, I can’t control myself” he says in his thick british accent. She cackles as he spins us around three times. His hand slaps her ass as he allows her to slide down to his chest. He holds her body close and falls limp, smiling up at him. He clutches her tighter and she gasps as it begins to hurt. She wraps her arms around his neck and pull myself around him. Allowing him to hold her like a child.

“I love you so much” she said.

“I love you too darling”

a/n

this is based on a real fight I got into with my dad, I wish I had a Simon to calm me down ugh

[3d-wifey]

can i get a list of your favorite lines you've written for And they'd find us in a week?" (posted or otherwise)

You added in my dms that you meant my fav lines in each chapter and sure!!!! but it's gonna be longggg and it'll only get longer. I'll stick to posted chapters so I can avoid spoiling anything and add to this post as I post more chapters! Feel free to send in your own fav lines, I'd love to know!!!!

Chapter 1

 A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally. And now he’s home.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife. 

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down. 

You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. 

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means.

"So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. 

He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first.

This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

Chapter 2

You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you.

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously.

So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it.

You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself.

Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. 

Chapter 3

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote. 

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

“I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you.”

You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“Wolf, meet bone." 

He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor. 

But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow. 

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile. 

You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another. 

You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him. But you do. You really do.

There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear. 

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do. 

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus. 

"Who else is he forcing to do this?" … "You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose."

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?" 

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." 

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle, “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works. 

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her. 

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people. 

 It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate. 

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out. 

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see. 

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it. 

Chapter 4

That Avox is taking a piece of you, red smeared on white, and it'll be washed away. Absently, as if through water, you hear the door shut and you're scared that you'll never be whole again.

Your first instinct is to find somewhere to curl up, but the bed is out of the question. Logically, you know it's clean, you saw it happen. But it feels like a crime scene, like something died there. 

The door doesn't look much different from your own. You don't know what else you were expecting. 

You don't know if you've ever made a choice that wasn't out of necessity and you find that you want Finnick to comfort you.

 It slides open to reveal Finnick with his sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his hair a mess, and his face painted in exhaustion. You can't help but think he looks awfully soft. Softer than you ever thought you'd see him.

"I don't know why I thought you'd be awake. I guess I just assumed...," You shake your head, having no excuse other than wanting to be near him, "I don't know what I assumed. I should get back to my room. I'm really sorry for waking—" "Wait," he calls out as you start to back away, "You can come in, we can–I don't know, we can talk." He generously offers, sounding almost nervous. But what about you would ever make him nervous? 

Sleeping in Finnick's bed after everything somehow feels worse than sleeping on your own. Because it may be a crime scene, but at least it's your crime. It feels almost disrespectful to sleep where something of Finnick's died too. 

If you were a star, burning bright miles and miles away, nothing could touch you. Not the memories that haunt you, not Snow, not your clients. Nothing. 

Your eyes widen and you don't know what to say. There's a certain level of repulsive irony with the person who guaranteed your survival being the first person to treat you as something less than human. If this is how you feel now, you can't even imagine how Finnick must have felt. Fourteen and alone. At least you have someone to lean on, someone who's going through the same thing you are. All he had was himself. But he has you now. 

"Don't downplay what you've gone through, Finnick. You don't have to put yourself down for me," You face him head-on so he knows you mean it, "You shouldn't put yourself down for anyone." He looks up at you again, but this time he doesn't look away. There's no point in playing a game of 'who has it worse'. That's not what you came here for. 

How can he be expected to save you when he never saved himself? You're sure he knows there's no magic fix to this. But that's an answer you know he won't accept. Because…because he cares about you, he said so himself. He wants to take your pain, but it’s not transactional. Besides, even if it was, you wouldn’t want him to take it all upon himself. This pain is not transferable, this pain is yours to share. You’ll keep a hand on his wound if he keeps a hand on yours. 

Maybe you can staunch the bleeding together.

"I'm sorry...I know me saying that doesn't make much of a difference, but I am." He's wrong. He has nothing to be sorry for, but the apology softens you. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. "Me too," you whisper. He hesitates before laying his head on yours, "I'm sorry, too." You hear a sniff above you, but you don't comment on it. You just let go of his pinky and lace your fingers together instead. His palm is rough against your own and it grounds you. When you're down here, pressed against Finnick's side, you're okay with not being a star. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone about yay high," he raises his hand about an inch above his head. Then, flips his hair over his shoulder dramatically, "Blond, built like a Greek god." 

He's what you imagine having an older, older brother might be like. As such, it feels more than a little awkward whining about your pitiful love life, or lack thereof, to him. "Me and Finnick," you say, and, like the gossip he is, he hangs on to your every word, "There is no me and Finnick." Anymore.

"I'd imagine it's the same reason Peeta volunteered for you." He exhales through his nose like he doesn't want a reminder of what happened only a handful of hours earlier. 

You aren't surprised, in all honesty. Looking back on it now, it’s odd to think Snow was right when he said he did you a favor. Because you’ve gathered secrets of your own. Morsels of information that you've coveted like rubies, plucked from the mouths of your high society clientele. 

That entire inner monologue in 4 where you think about Rue and Thresh. Honestly makes me tear up everytime AND I WROTE IT.

And maybe, just maybe, it would mean they didn’t die in vain. All of your kids that you watched march to their deaths—their deaths that would mean something. Leading you all to this very moment. "Alright." You decide, as if there was ever any other option for you. Insurgency is in your veins. Your father was a part of the Movement like his father before him and his father before him. It’s what got him killed. And it seems like it’ll do the same for you. 

 Maybe you're a little dense, but you don't see how that proves that District Thirteen wasn't nuked to hell and back. Some of that skepticism must show on your face because he sighs and sets his glass back down.

You ask. You already have in mind who you hope will be on your side. You think of callused hands and soft green eyes and wonder if you could ever raise a weapon against him in the name of the rebellion. 

Friends isn't the word you'd use, but it's hard not to form a sense of solidarity with the person you often get requested to have threesomes with. 

"With love, huh." He whispers to himself and smiles. 

And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right? Right.

To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond. 

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all. 

"Do you think she'll like it?" He asks her. He wants to bite at his nails as she looks over what he made, but refrains. 

'She'll love it. :)" She writes and he hopes she’s right.

He can't help but find joy in the fact that he still knows you well enough to predict what you'll do. And he'll get to see you again. Really see you. He shouldn't be happy about that under these circumstances, but Finnick is under no illusion of being a good person. 

"Kid, I don't wanna say this is sad, but it's not, not sad." Finnick rolls his eyes at Haymitch's unwelcome opinion. Should he be embarrassed to be caught in this position? Maybe. Probably. Yeah, he definitely should be. But he gave up his shame a long time ago.

"You sure?" He leans his head on the hand that's propped up on the arm of the chair, "Not even a certain someone from Eleven? What was that nickname you gave her—Star, right?" He asks with that same tone he always used to take on when teasing Finnick about you.

When he started turning away his clients' money, they were desperate to pay him atonement so their consciences wouldn't be weighed down by their sins. You came up with the idea. Money wasn't worth its salt to a victor. But secrets? Secrets were cashed in gold. 

"You can't have fire without air, right?" He asks rhetorically. "Well, we won't have Katniss without Peeta. She won't help us without him." 

And just like that, whatever illusion of choice Finnick thought he had is stripped away with the mention of you. Every path he takes leads back to you. What a heartening thought. 

Abruptly, he gets a faint whiff of your scent caught in his head like a flashback. Hovering in his nostrils as faint as a memory. It is a memory. But if he goes through with this, maybe it doesn't have to stay one. 

Freedom looks like being by your side, loving you fearlessly. Finnick's never felt true freedom before—the closest he's ever gotten to it was when you touched him. He doubts it can feel much better than that. 

Chapter 6

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you, he never does.

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What?! What, of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving.

The big green chair is the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

There’s nothing quite like being paraded before crowds of adoring fans while dressed in a caricature of your district.

 You joke, but you really wish you were at least given some kind of underwear. It’s not exactly warm in here and that draft is reaching places it shouldn’t.

If you make any sharp movements, you’ll be flashing your ass to all of Panem.

 He makes to lean against the horse but thinks better of it when she scuffs one of her hooves on the ground rather threateningly.

Your and Katniss’s whole convo by the chariots

There’s a fishnet draped across his torso and knotted low around his hips similar to how your skirt is tied. It’s very thin, with very spacious holes.

Your tongue will always remember the shape of his name, but you’ve forgotten the taste of it. It’s bittersweet.

Chapter 7

He nods over your shoulder to Caesar, who’s looking especially orange today.

They have him in the closest thing to a suit that he’ll tolerate and his blond hair is artfully coiffed. You miss how it falls naturally, and you’re sure he feels the same. The makeup they put on you makes you feel like a mannequin. Stiff and shiny, just the way they like you.

 You and Finnick smile and greet the masses like you were trained to. You wave your hand open and closed, and Finnick doesn’t wave at all, instead nodding to the crowd. 

 He doesn’t ask a question outright, but you understand what he wants you to answer. What a pitiful beast you are. What else about you can we feel sorry for?

“Very sad, very sad indeed,” the room fills with sympathetic murmurs that make your eye twitch. You don’t need their pity, pity won’t bring him back. Pity won’t stop it from happening to someone else. If they used that same pity to stop injustices before they happened, then maybe these people would actually be worth something, “Alright, let’s get into some games, huh? Yeah!”

A clock ticks ominously behind you, probably a new fixture. It bluntly cuts the silence. You would have noticed that before. You think.

“My colleagues speak very highly of you.” He pulls a white handkerchief up to his mouth and coughs into it. It’s a wet, violent cough that rocks him in his seat. It must hurt and you know without a doubt that the white of the fabric is blood red now. Good. Hopefully, he’ll cough up a lung soon enough. He dabs at his mouth before pulling it back to his lap, almost like he’s hiding it. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

“Come now.” His smile stretches across his face like a coyote’s, though it’s twice as sharp. You bite at the skin of your peeling bottom lip. “You’re a smart girl. You should be able to infer what’s happening without my telling you.” You do. You had just hoped you misunderstood, that you were being overly paranoid. After all, you have an intimate relationship with hunger, and not just your own. You’ve seen that look before, more times than you can count. On the faces of particularly crooked Peacekeepers, handsy landowners, and ‘well-meaning’ teachers. And now you see it again on the face of your President.

They all have something in common: they thought they were above you and your savagery. They thought you were some animal, that you should feel lucky that they even looked your way.

So distinguished, so self-important, and, yet, they lust after an animal like you? And you’re supposed to be the savage one? You wish you could enjoy the irony.

There’s a smell emitting from him. A smell you’ve only smelt in rotting animals: decay. The rose in his pocket and the roses around the room can only cover so much. It’s the poison, it has to be. All the poison he drank while getting rid of his political rivals has finally come back to reap its judgment. He’s decomposing from the inside out. The consequence of having so much power, it seems. 

It doesn’t matter how much makeup or what kind of dress you put on a pig. At the end of the day, it’s still a dirty, stinking pig. You just hope, when the day comes, you’ll be around to see this pig get gutted.

From this high up you can hardly hear yourself think, finally. But barely, just barely, you can make out Finnick’s voice. You’ll always be able to recognize that voice. The sound is almost as much of a part of you as it is of him.

You’re whole and solid in his grip. You’re safe. God, you’re safe.

Neither of you speaks. Which is fine. There’s no space for words between your bodies anyway.

You barely duck in time to avoid the staff from hitting your head and Finnick’s grip on the trident tightens.

For as long as Johanna has known him, she’s known him in conjunction with you. There’s no point in acting like that’s changed.

“Good luck.” She pats him on the back with far more force than necessary and walks off with an axe in hand. Probably on her way to traumatize a trainer.

“Besides, if they’re listening in on anyone, it’s Princess and the Baker over there.”

Dear Finn, 

If you ever fear the weight of my absence—close your eyes, take a breath, and feel me beside you. I’m still here.

-Faithfully,

Your Star.

Chapter 8

Actually, just all of 8 and 9. From beginning to end.

Chapter 10

They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“Just start looking out for yourself more, alright?” She asks and you agree with a scowl, you refuse to call it a pout though Finnick definitely would.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair. 

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous—foreboding. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course, you don’t.” He tsks, disappointed. You lower your gaze, embarrassed. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively. 

 "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor. He scoffs.

 He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch?

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing. 

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. 

"Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." 

He's twenty-two years old—a grown man, but, suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him, because he never got the chance to grow up. Not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise, he doesn’t want to.

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He shrugs as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.” Fair. When the hell did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time he sees him and Finnick wishes he could get any satisfaction from it but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them and they are terrifying.

Snow nods at the idea and…and he realizes it’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that. 

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.” The water is boiling. The water is boiling and it’s too late to get out.

Chapter 11

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’. Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Finnick’s letter

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know. 

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken. 

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same. 

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs. Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected. 

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway. 

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

"My love, my star. My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star. 

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. 

"Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. 

 But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick. And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory. 

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it. 

It sounds like a goodbye. 

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry. 

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes. 

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous. 

He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now. 

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “The message was for you!”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God, it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy. 

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight.

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes. 

The entire elevator scene

Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. 

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this? What could have possibly been worth giving you up? 

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now.

He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. 

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten.

And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. 

I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

[fabbyf1]

Bestieeee your writing is like the benchmark. After reading your fics (after reading and reading each and every single one of your fics, I might say), I have become so picky when reading other lestappen fics just because your fics are always in the back of my mind. Not that other writers’ works aren’t great (i dont want to sound ungrateful) but your fics are just the best of the best.

I literally have notifications for your posts turned on so that I don’t miss. a. single. thing. you. write.

With that being said, I am very curious to know how you feel about other fics when you read them…are you picky when it comes to reading other people’s fics because you have developed a sense of how the “characters” should act in your head? Are you picky when it comes to certain things that you think a fic shouldn’t lack? And do you have favorites, if yes, can you suggest a few for me to read (lestappen, ofc, cuz I live for them at this point tbh)?

Keep being you babe and don’t ever stop! Can’t wait for WAP 2.0!!!!!!!!!

oh BESTIE.

WHAT A LITTLE CAN OF WORMS YOU'VE JUST OPENED.

first off, thank you so fucking much for your kind words. you are so sweet and i'm so honored that you love my fics so much. thank you for taking the time to tell me, it really makes my day.

now to answer your question: YES.

i have been reading and writing fanfiction since i was 12 years old (for reference, that was 2002, before some of yall were born.) the internet and fanfiction in general were MUCH different back then. but because i started at such a young age with such HORRRRRRIBLE fics, it has made me the pickiest bitch alive. i have STANDARDS.

i can open a fic and just by looking at it know if i want to read it or not. because if the formatting is not what i like? i honestly won't even try. if it's written by someone i know and love, i will read it no matter what it looks like, but if i just randomly click on a link? i will know within a second if i'm gonna like it or not.

(pov, you're bailee sending me a fic rec and you had to watch as i opened it and said "immediately no" because of how it was spaced. LMFAOOOOOO. sorry baby. i bet it was great.)

formatting aside, i think it has to be "realistic" to me. but that's also based on whatever reality the fic is set in. for example, if it's a space fic with aliens and tentacle porn, i want it to be Realistic tentacle porn. ya feel me? i want to be able to read it and think "ah yes. i can totally see it. if i had a tentacle cock, it would be feeling this."

...

so when i say realistic, i don't necessarily mean it by definition.

(also, lmfao, i realize how ridiculous that last paragraph was. viva la tentacle porn.)

if it's set in a canon timeline, i want to be able to read it and hear the voice of whoever is speaking. if i'm reading max verstappen but it doesn't sound like anything in my head and i can't hear his cute lil lisp and accent? then i can't read it.

as for the rest of your question, i wouldn't say i compare the characters to how i think they should be written. i like that other people's characterizations of them are different. i have such a clear vision of who they are in MY head that it's actually refreshing to read other people's works and have it be a different max and charles.

it's like a breath of fresh air to get the hell away from my characters and get me out of my head.

i honestly think that's why i don't... read a lot of lestappen... which is incredibly funny. because lestappen is all i think about and what i enjoy writing the most. but it's hard to step away from fics in my head, so when i do pick up a fic, it's usually a different pairing. i think one of my favorite pairings to read is galex because they're SOOOOO different from lestappen. (so please, send me all your galex recs. even though I've probably already read them.)

anyway. i could rant about this for days. fanfiction is my life. fanfiction is my favorite thing to talk about.

[marciabrady]

your thoughts on the unofficial princess girls ! (ex; esmeralda, meg, jane, kida) even the younger ones like melody, jane from peter pan II, eilonwy, wendy darling you can pick any ones you’d like to talk about !

I'll mention all the ones that you did!

Esmeralda- I love her. As is the case with every other female character on this list, the actual production of her film was never one I took to as a child because of the fact that she was the only female character/existed in a largely male universe, but after rewatching her movie as a teenager, I did grow in love with her. It lasted for a few years, and then moods of Esmeralda would come and go- so she isn't a consistent favorite- but I do think she has such a unique voice and song and design and I ADORE how mature she is. It's so refreshing, for how silly and childish the 3d girls are, to see an animated character that is really meant for adults. I love how she brushes on deeper topics of religion and kindness and social equality. I think she was ahead of her time and it always astounds me that she was written in an age before the internet, but has seemed to reflect so many ideals and sensibilities that have only been able to be apparent through all the different voices the forum of the internet enabled in the years after this film's release. I love that they didn't whitewash her, too, and I wish we'd get to see more of her culture.

Meg- So Meg is definitely someone who's always been an internet favorite and, while she does venture into 'not like other girls' territory, there is a charm to her, her design, and voice acting that I can't help but love. Ultimately, I do appreciate that she's morally grey but it does make me want to protect Hercules from her lol I think most people like Meg because of the whole sassy, jaded thing though, which is fine, but I think it's the same as when people only like Tiana for her toxic grind personality pre character arc. Meg's only that way because of trauma and she does it to cover up who she truly is, as a shield, so I prefer the sensitive underbelly of who she is and how she's actually the most basic person in the room. I find the parts where she's candid about her fear of heights and her back and forth with Phil more entertaining than her composed, cool edge. Although I will say, her action of giving her life in exchange for her boyfriend's was one of the most confusing actions I've ever seen a Disney character take and I think they kinda made her entirely storyline about men (she's enslaved by Hades, her objective is to trap Hercules because that's what Hades told her to do to regain her freedom, which she lost because of her ex boyfriend which made her jaded) and I wish they let her have friends who were girls or at least female characters to interact with.

Jane- Okay my answer is going to sound confusing so I'm going to preface with this: I do like Jane and I would want more representation for her. I think she has some of the best fans and she is enjoyable/generally delightful. However, I will say she made me wish we didn't get any more white women in animation for a while lol we'd already had a lot of white leading ladies before this (and she broke a successful women of color streak with Jasmine and Pocahontas and Mulan), and she still abides to an eurocentric beauty standard, so to appease that quotient of the audience but still make her stick out they just over-emphasized her even more than the 10 or more white women that came out before her had been? Her eyes were EVEN more buggish, she was EVEN skinnier, she had even more prominent cheekbones, etc, and i just wanted a more diverse design and a breath of fresh air. I also think it's irritating how obsessed American audiences are with English/Australian accents (but not other cultures' accents which...smh) so like...that makes me sigh HOWEVER I do love the fact that she studies animals and I think she is unique and lovely

Kida- Again, love how mature and intelligent and athletic she is. I kind of wish that Moana was written more like Kida, in that sense, instead of being on the Rapunzel end of things. But I love Kida's design and her personality and her doll and crystal necklace from Mcdonald's was iconic in my household lol I even cut triangles into my bangs when I was in preschool because I was going for the textured layers she had in the animation but didn't know how to mentally translate that into the real world lol her movie is pretty good, I just haven't seen it too many times and she isn't someone I connect with personally but I love her fans and do think she's incredible and admire her and the people who love her more intimately

Melody- I never took to Melody because I was an Ariel fan so I always felt that we were shortchanged by her being the main character of the sequel. Since I loved Ariel, she's the one I sided with in disagreements and still kind of do? Their dynamic is so much weaker compared to Ariel/Triton because Triton was an active bigot and shut Ariel down, time and time again, silencing her and infusing their dynamic with so many layers and nuances. Ariel and Melody's relationship is kinda predicated on interruptions and bad timing? Just as Melody opens up to her mother, Eric comes on screen and interrupts everything. Ariel decides it's time to tell Melody of her mermaid heritage, only for Melody to have escaped a few minutes prior. Also, even though Triton was blatantly abusive (even though unintentional), Ariel still had so much love for him and attacked Ursula physically when she saw her Father reduced to a polyp. Even after Triton screams at her and destroys her Grotto, she openly says, "Daddy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Where, Ariel is literally trying to explain things to Melody and is being openly apologetic and Melody just mean mugs her and says "too late mom" lol plus she's super young which, again, I take to more mature characters. That being said, I do know there's been a large community of Melody lovers in recent years and I do think they're all great! I also think most of the people who think they're Ariel's are more Melody's because Ariel fans tend to be fixated on the ocean, which Ariel herself would never be- that's more Melody. Plus a lot of Ariel fans just tend to seem more like Melody in general, energy wise, and she is a more rare character and any rare character getting more love is something I'm here for

Jane (from Peter Pan 2)- I think they did a good job with not being afraid to make her unlikable but because she's such a tomboy AND younger, there's nothing really here for me to latch on to. I was so sad they cut the mermaids, and Wendy's character (they kept her but to a minor extent) because they really only had a dying Tinker Bell for female representation and then a Jane that was "one of the guys" and the first Lost Girl ever but with nothing else for us that loved Wendy and Mrs. Darling and the mermaids of the original film. So, again, it's fine but just not for me personally

Eilonwy- Okay, this is an answer that surprises even myself but I don't really like her? As a child, I took her VHS from Blockbuster because the cover had a princess in a pink dress lol but I never really rewatched the movie after that or thought about it. I revisited it when I was a teenager and ADORED it. I wrote Eilonwy and read the books and was obsessed, but I guess it was short-lived because I didn't visit the movie for a decade afterwards and, when I did, I found her unlikable? I felt like she was very abrupt, prone to having unnecessary fits and kinda rude and didn't have the charm to balance it out BUT I'm convinced I'll warm up to her again in due time. I don't think she'll ever be a top favorite though

Wendy- 10/10 LOML there is so much warmth to her and I LOVE how she's at that age where she babbles you know why because it shows she's PASSIONATE and she's so forgiving and lovely and kind and imaginative and I love that she's the "supreme authority on Peter Pan" just as most of us on Tumblr have taken it upon ourselves to educate ourselves on whatever we're fascinated by. I also love that she has an edge and isn't a doormat and she's the one calling the shots and moving the story forward. I think writers are the most intellectually stunning people in the world and this movie acknowledges that by how prized she is for her storytelling ability. Also, how could you NOT love a character voiced by Kathryn Beaumont? Perfection, chef's kiss, one of my favorites ever!!

[vintage-marina]

Why didn't you pt. 2

pt 1

This is angst again

You can't help but think about how different your life would be if the Eternals would have interfered.

wordcount: 929 words

TW: death, talking about sacrificing, deppression/numbness, grief, death, mentioning about the Red Room

"My sister," you said in a low whisper.

You were met with a heavy silence.

You turned your gaze away from Druig and Makkari, pulling yourself in a ball you sat on the outest corner of the couch. Your eyes were empty, with little hints of red splattered around.

You sniffled.

The Eternals were too shocked to say anything, even Ikaris who was the catalyst of this whole mess.

Guilt.

That's how they felt, especially Druig. Eyes watery and heart heavy they were watching you, observing you. Makkari couldn't help but blink away her tears and she noticed that Druig did the same.

Shocked.

Not only guilt was what they felt, they were shocked too. Never, never was a mortal furious at them, or accusing them of murder. No, the humans were always so lovely to them, always postive, always bright, always curious maybe too much. The Eternals were welcomed with open arms during their period on Earth, sometimes more than others, but they were always welcomed. So when one person was so hostile to them they didn't knew how to act.

But it wasn't true, they didn't kill your sister, somehow they had to let you see that, but how?

During the heavy atmosphere you can't help but think about the endless posibilities.

You, you could've lived a normal childhood if they only just interfered.

You could've been happy.

If they interfered during Thanos attack on Earth, there was no need to bring back the other half.

If they had interfered maybe Natasha would still be alive.

Maybe she would still be alive.

Maybe she would still be alive.

She would still be alive, would she?

If you weren't dusted away, you maked sure she would still be alive. Defending her from any harm that had gotten to her. Even if you were the one that had to die at the end.

You didn't even know how she died, you only knew she did on a planet far far away from here.

Why couldn't you die on that stupid planet? Why her? Why Natasha and not someone else? Why not you?

Survival's guilt, that's how it's called.

Depression.

Mind and heart broken in million pieces.

You were and will always be a losing game, no matter how much the tide changed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was Sersi who's voice belonged to the sentence.

You lifted your head from your knees, getting out of your thoughts.

Anger turned into sadness, you couldn't be bothered to tug your hand out of Druig's after he grabbed yours.

"I don't know if I can," you mumbled, your Russia accent escaped after been hidden from a few years, thick with heavy emotions. You were getting scared, anxious even. If you dropped her name, they would know about your history. Something that you wanted to be deeply buried.

"It's okay," Makkari signed to you, giving an encouraging smile, you gave an hestitating smile back.

Hope.

Makkari and Druig felt hopeful after seeing your smile.

They killed her.

You arrowed your eyes, smile wavering.

They killed her and now they are trying to make it up to you?

"No, it's not," there was it again, the harshness in your voice. You pulled your hand out of Druig and stood up.

What was wrong with you? They betrayed you and you almost fell for their tactics.

You walked out the door, suddenly the need for fresh air was big.

Breath in, breath out.

You told yourself.

You sat on the porch of the house, putting your head against your knees. Why would they kill her? Why do you keep falling for their tactics?

You sat for about an hour.

You thought a lot with the lone time you had, with a calmer mind.

You came to the conclusion that it maybe wasn't their fault, but they sure could've helped. It was stupid for them to not intervere but that was basically the same with you when you said: "I couldn't do anything about that."

Ofcourse you could, but the manipulation ran so deep that you didn't saw it. Most of the times you still didn't.

So why blame them for something and excusing yourself for the exact same thing?

The sun was setting, the stars came out of their sleep and you watched the leaves dancing.

You danced too just like the leaves. A lot actually in the Red Room, sometimes until your feet were raw and bloody.

Feeling a presence near you, you looked up. It was Makkari and Druig.

"Can we sit with you?" he asked to you, they didn't wait for an answer.

They didn't said anything for a couple of minutes, just watching the sunset with you. You didn't want them here, but you can't lie they bring a sense of comfort that they only could gave.

"I don't understand my own emotions," your voice cracked. "Most of the time I don't feel anything, but today I got so angry and sad, I didn't even regconise myself.'' You pulled a hand through your hair. "I'm just so tired."

They didn't do anything in fear that you may reject them, but Makkari and Druig showed that they listened to you.

"The last few months, I showed emotions that I never thought I could feel. Some days it knocks me down, one single word, a photo, a sentence, an item that reminds me of her and I'm a mess, and I hate every minute of it.''

Makkari nudged you with her shoulder and signed: ''What's her name?''

You looked at her with empty eyes.

''Natasha, Natalia in Russian,'' you said, after contemplating if you should say her name.

You looked to the sunset again, missing the way how Druig and Makkari looked at eachother.

''I'm sorry,'' you said.

''Y/N,''

You acknowledged Druig.

''Do you mean Natasha Romanoff?''

You looked to the stars this time, hoping to see the planet where she laid on.

''Yes.''

You could've swore you saw the change into their eyes after they realised. Tension hung thick again and nobody spoke. You bowed your head again, but in shame this time.

Taglist: @lcvelyth @xoxoloverb @thesecretanimewriter @ghostchild30 @uwiuwi

[one-boring-person]

You'll Only Regret It.

August Rosenbluth (Water For Elephants) x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunkeness, slight sexual themes, swearing (in German)

Context: August comes to the reader after Marlene and Jacob leave

A/n: I have a real thing going for Christoph Waltz right now, so expect more fics like this :) also this will likely be a two-parter

Also, tagging @jawline-of-steel because we're both whores for his man and I love you, so have fun ;)

Masterlist

The impatient knocking on the side of the train car snaps me from my thoughts, surprising me considerably; nobody comes to me at this hour. 

Putting down the book in my hands, I climb off of my makeshift bed, frowning as the rapping becomes louder, a voice joining it, calling out my name. I recognise it immediately, curious now as I go to the large sliding door, using my weight to heave it open, allowing cool night air to rush into the warm interior. As I thought, I can see a familiar figure standing out there, a scowl on his handsome face.

"August? What's wrong?" I ask him right off the bat, knowing he only ever seeks me out this late at night if something has happened. 

His sharp eyes find mine, his jaw clenching as he goes to speak.

"Can I come in?" The ringleader requests, accent thicker now that he's in a bad mood, the smooth timbre roughened by alcohol, which I can see grasped in his hand.

Nodding, I lean down to offer him a hand.

"Of course." 

He accepts my help, using my grip to swing himself up into the old train car, his hand rough in mine, calloused from years of physical labour. As he draws closer, I catch a whiff of the familiar scent that clings to him: cologne, cigarette smoke and the indescribable tang of fresh air, marred only slightly now by the presence of whisky on his breath. Passing into my living space, August stands awkwardly in the middle, as if waiting for me to direct him to a seat. Unfortunately, I don't have anywhere comfortable to sit, so I quickly close the car door and go to the bed, straightening the covers before gesturing for him to sit. 

Without a word, he takes a seat, leaning back against the wall, shirt pulling across his firm chest until he loosens it, placing his bottle of whisky at the foot of the bed. I can't help but watch as he works open the top three buttons of his shirt, admiring his good looks in the lamplight. The steady glow casts his smooth skin in a warm hue, accentuated now by the whiteness of his shirt. 

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I take a seat beside him, keeping a small gap between us for now. Wordlessly, he hands me his bottle, letting me take a sip before he retrieves it again, doing the same. We sit together in relative silence for a long moment, content to be in each other's company, listening to the sounds of the other workers outside, the noise of their merriment easily carrying through the walls of the old carriage. 

"She left me." August finally speaks, voice quiet.

"Marlene? When?" I turn to him, surprised at his words; the woman had told me once she'd never leave him, that she had nothing to leave for.

"Some time after the show." His lip curls, "She went with that damn veterinarian."

His tone is harsh, but I can hear a sadness underneath, a sorrow he'll be unlikely to show anyone, even me. 

August and I had met when the circus first started. I'm the longest working employee he's got, acting as a repairs worker whenever something goes wrong, so we've become fast friends in our time together, despite the age gap between us. We come to each other with most, if not all problems, forming a long-lasting friendship that will likely carry on far into the future. We have a few disputes: I disagree with his violent actions towards the animals, and he's often irritated when I comment about it, though he has, in recent years, abated slightly. 

"Jacob?" My brow furrows as I struggle to recall the name, having had very little interaction with the man.

At the mention of his name, August makes a sound of disgust.

"Yes, him."

I frown, silently marvelling at how quickly the boy had managed to rope the star attraction in - she's never been easy, so it's quite a feat he managed to talk to her at all. I go to speak, but August beats me to it, getting incensed now, the alcohol in his system firing him up faster than I'd like.

"She never appreciated what I gave her, never loved me how I loved her. I did anything I could to make her happy, but no, she'd rather go off with some kid who can barely support himself. What does she see in him? Am I not enough?" He speaks quickly, gesturing animatedly with his hands, sounding genuinely upset by the occurrence, though his choice in wording strikes me as odd, "Verdammte Tierarzt (damned veterinarian)."

The ringleader's head falls to his chest and I realise there are tears in his eyes, his fists clenching in his lap. Sympathy fills me, my heart aching for the distraught man before me, my own hand hesitantly finding its way into his, sliding between his palms as he allows me to hold them. Interlocking our fingers, I gently squeeze, trying to get him to look up at me, which he does so after a moment, keeping eye contact as he reaches over and takes another drink of his whisky. It's only now that he's staring right at me that I can see exactly how drunk he really is: not enough so he doesn't speak with some control over what he means, but enough to render him slightly less hindered by the usual inhibitions his mind puts in place.

"August, listen to me. Marlene appreciated everything you did for her. She knew her life only became what it did because of you, and she worked hard to earn that. You were more than enough." I tell him, keeping eye contact with him, "As for Jacob, he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He got lucky."

"You...you really think so?" He sniffs, showing a vulnerability I've never seen in him.

I nod, giving him a small but reassuring smile, squeezing his hands.

"I'm sure." I emphasise, trying to ignore the way my heart yearns to hold him and reassure him. 

He watches me, before leaning in and wrapping me in a tight hug, pulling me so far into him that I'm almost on his lap. Surprised but not opposed to his movement, I return the embrace, enjoying the feeling of being encompassed by the secure, safe warmth of the man I've come to care for. Holding him tightly, I go to move to be more comfortable, only to squeak when he suddenly pulls me into his lap, arms tight around my waist, face buried in the crook of my neck, breaths heavy on my skin. I shiver slightly under the contact, lifting a hand to lightly caress the small hairs at the back of his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. 

We remain like that for a while, his scent strong around us as he allows himself to relax into the embrace, the alcohol clearly taking a stronger effect now. His hands are spread flat against my back, though they move now to grip my hips, pulling me into his chest. 

I can't help the sound of surprise that escapes me when I feel his lips make contact with the sensitive skin of my neck, pressing deliberately in a slow, hot kiss. Stiffening but unable to help the shiver of pleasure, I bite my lip as August trails his lips further down, leaving another kiss in his wake as he begins to mouth at my throat. Groaning softly into my skin, the ringleader grips me tightly, his nose tracing a line up to my jawline, which he then follows back down with his tongue, one of his hands reaching up to cup my face, angling my head more towards him. 

Sighing in pleasure, I try to lean out of his hold, failing as he gives me a sharp nip, sucking over the mark to soothe it, likely leaving a mark behind.

"August...ah...you need to stop…" I manage, pushing lightly at his chest, only for him to use his other hand to push under my loose shirt, pressing flat against my bare skin. Before I can stop myself, I'm arching into his touch, accidentally giving him more room to pepper kisses all over my neck. The hand on my back quickly dips down, running over my ass briefly before he grips it, using the hold to push me further into him, his hips beginning to grind up into mine, grunts of pleasure escaping him even as I bite back my own sounds.

"August, you're drunk...We can't do this…." I tell him, barely holding back a moan as he suddenly moves his hand round to my crotch, rubbing over the sensitive area. Shockwaves of pleasure erupt from the touch, but I hold firm, gripping his shoulders tightly as I fight to keep my composure. I can't let him do something he'll regret in the morning. 

Fighting my disappointment, I take hold of August's wrists, using my grasp to pry him from me, lifting one hand to cup his jaw as he groans in irritation. Lifting his head to make eye contact, I smile at his needy expression, finding myself taken by the darkened gaze he has fixed on me. 

"I can't let you do this, August. You'll only wish you hadn't." I tell him regretfully, somewhat saddened by the knowledge that I'm likely right.

"No...I want you...I need you, (Y/n)...I've always wanted you…" He slurs, trying to kiss me on the lips before I lean out of his reach.

"You need sleep." I inform him, trying to ignore the way my heart pounds now at his revelation, hoping it to be true, even though I have a feeling it's not. Climbing up out of his lap, I kneel beside him and direct him to lie down on the bed, pulling off his boots as I do so. Pulling the blanket up over him, I place the bottle some distance away, going to walk past August to the chair in the corner, wishing I'd taken the time to refurbish it properly now. As I step past, a hand shoots out and grabs my arm, holding me in place. 

Looking down, I see August gazing up at me.

"Stay...please?" He tugs lightly on my sleeve, and I find that I can't refuse him, his expression striking a chord somewhere inside me. 

Nodding, I climb in beside him, keeping my back to him so he doesn't try anything funny, pulling the covers over us. It's not long before he reaches out and pulls me into him, wrapping his arms tightly around me, pressing his chest flush to my back. I can feel his breaths on my cheek as he sighs, relaxing with me in his hold. Warmth floods me, my own body relaxing into his as I feel myself wishing I could stay in the circle of his arms forever, feeling sleep creeping up on me faster than I hoped it would. 

Before I drift off, I feel his arms tighten around me once more, his face burying itself in my hair as he begins to snore lightly, lulling me to sleep.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

A Pure Soul (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff x ADD!Autistic!reader)

Summary: Two weeks or so after Wanda arrives at the Avengers’ Place, (y/n) shows up. An autistic Avenger who’s extremely honest and who doesn’t really seem to mind just being by themself, but also is kind and even affectionate to others. Wanda’s smitten by this and does the unthinkable.

Request?: Nope. I’m literally just throwing this out of the back of my head. From the Yandere Starter Prompts list by @yandere-mccree

Prompt: 5. “This world doesn’t deserve an angel like you.”

Warnings: (AOU Spoilers, CACW spoilers, IW spoilers, Endgame spoilers, torture sorta, sleep paralysis mention, ableism, slight manipulation?, kidnapping, mind-breaking mention)

Note: I wanted to try a bit more of a subtle Yandere vibe for Wanda. I’ve never really written one of these, so it might not be as great as I hoped. I don’t encourage or condone the unhealthy aspects.

Word Count: 3,268

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It’s only been a couple of weeks or so after she’d been taken from Sokovia after it was destroyed. Wanda’s still mourning the loss of her brother when you arrive. You're a shy person, not a fan of eye contact, but you do like touch, hugs in particular, as well as head pets.

Wanda doesn’t pay attention to you much at first. You’re just another Avenger to her; a nice change of pace, but that’s all. But then comes Lagos. Wanda now has guilt along with so much trauma. It’s no surprise when you hear her crying in her room one day, the door somehow left open a crack.

“I’m a terrible person,” she says softly, thinking no one heard.

You peek in and catch her with a pillow to her face, weeping. Your heart breaks. You know it’s on her, but she clearly feels terrible. You stand in the doorway until she soon notices you.

“Oh....(y/n),” she says as casually as she can. “Hey.”

“You’re not a terrible person,” you tell her.

She’s shocked to hear this.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

You shake your head.

“Why would I be?”

“I’m too destructive,” she says, sniffling. “You saw what happened in Lagos.”

You enter your room and sit on her bed with her. 

“But you’re also very kind,” you point out. “And you’re a good person. You clearly care when you hurt others, and you want to rectify your mistakes. A bad person wouldn’t do that.”

In that moment, you can sense her need for some physical contact. You lean over and give her a hug, rubbing her back.

“I’m glad you’re here, Wanda,” you tell her.

And you are. You truly are. Even if you don’t know her well, you’ve heard her talk a few times, and she’s a breath of fresh air. Most of the Avengers tend to be a bit loud and sometimes a bit insensitive, but not Wanda. Wanda’s extremely sensitive to others’ feelings and tends to be a quiet person. It’s something you need. Her accent is also soothing to you for some reason, not to mention she’s beautiful.

You let her cry on your shoulder for a few hours, even humming to her a bit. Then it’s dinnertime and you’re called to the kitchen. That’s when something in Wanda changes. You, an Avenger who barely knows her, aren’t afraid of her; in fact, you’re glad that she’s here. She also doesn’t know you all that well, but she’s seen some acts of kindness you’ve done for her and the other Avengers, even when you thought no one was watching. And she heard your thoughts when you were hugging her, all wonderful things about her, how you wish she could see how amazing she is, how beautiful she is.

At that moment, her heart melts. How can someone with such a sweet and pure soul like you exist? How could someone so....perfect exist? It’s a ray of sunshine in her heart, making her forget about the guilt and trauma, even if only for a few moments. Your presence is exactly what she needs. And she needs more of it.....

===================================

At first it starts off simple and small; making an effort to see you more often, running into you in the compound, smiling at you, making conversation. And honestly, there’s something about Wanda you can’t quite shake off. She does make your heart flutter; sometimes you get shy around her or even blush. It’s adorable and it’s something that only makes her more fond of you. 

She discovers you’re autistic when the lights of the compound are too bright one time. The second she notices how anxious you are after Tony turns on the lights before getting his coffee in the other room, she immediately turns them down for you, and she’s the first person you tell. 

“I’m touched that you trust me enough to confess this,” she tells you with a few tears in your eyes.

Wanda asks you what other things you like or dislike, things that give you sensory overload and things that help you calm down. She asks you about your experiences as an autistic person. You’re touched by how considerate she is, and even confess to her about your ADD, or Inattentive ADHD, as they call it now. She also asks about that, but does her best to take it a little at a time so that you’re not overwhelmed with questions.

What you don’t know is that she already knows all of this, having telepathy and all; she wants to hear it from you so that it doesn’t come off as creepy. She also loves to hear your voice. It’s like music to her ears, music that eases her stresses and trauma, even if only temporarily.

Then she starts to make some more effort, actively implementing what she knows and paying attention to things you say and do, so that she knows what she can do or say without it being suspicious. Wanda wants the relationship to move as naturally as possible. You’re her precious angel, and she doesn’t want to scare you. And she won’t unless it’s inevitable or of absolute necessity. 

Wanda buys a bunch of fidgets and other sensory things for you to try, keeping in mind what you’ve told her. But also throwing in some “close guesses,” meaning things she knows but that you haven’t told her, things close to what you’ve told her. She can easily pass it off as just “having a hunch,” as long as it doesn’t happen too often. 

Though she wants it to be as natural as possible, she occasionally uses her powers on you; nothing too severe at first. Just sending little suggestions to your mind; she’s told you a few of her favorite things, so she’ll base those suggestions off of that. One of the first suggestions is why not ask her how to make paprikash? She suggests that the two of you make it together and you agree. You’re not big on spice, but there’s some sweet paprika as a substitute. And it’s not as spicy as you think, but it’s delicious.

Sometimes Wanda sends a suggestion to get you going on a rant on one of your Special Interests; it’s both a chance for her to “get to know you more,” but mostly because she adores hearing you speak about what you love; she especially loves seeing that twinkle in your eyes and she loves seeing your face light up. It’s one of the most precious things to her, seeing you so happy. She wants to cherish every single second of it. 

Though you’re nervous about it, suggestions of humming or singing to her pop into your mind. You give into them fairly often, mostly later on in the relationship. She tells you about how beautiful your voice really is, which gets you shy and blushing. It’s so endearing to her, seeing her sweet little sunbeam being so cute without even trying.

When you come back from a battle, Wanda checks to make sure you’re okay as soon as possible. She volunteers to patch you up to the best of her ability, and she soon becomes the person you first think of when you need first aid or care after a battle.

Then Wanda decides to take it a little further; her room in the compound is next to yours. She stands outside of your door, waiting for you to go to sleep, before opening the door a tad and sending in sweet dreams. If there’s one thing she despises, it’s seeing her sweet little angel upset, and this assures that it won’t happen. 

Next she sends little dreams with her in it; first only small appearances, but then she becomes apparent little by little until she ends up being the focus of many of them. Of course she’ll throw in miscellaneous dreams here and there, just to make sure you don’t get suspicious.

Then comes Wanda’s biggest suggestion to you; you two have gotten so close over the past few months, why not ask her to be your girlfriend? It only makes sense. You still feel those butterflies in your stomach, you two both have amazing chemistry, and you both are very close. At this point, you don’t question it. You’re just nervous to ask, as you’ve never been in a relationship before. Of course the nervousness is also slightly part of the suggestion, more on a subconscious level. It’s not enough to make you panic; just enough to make you shy when asking her. And of course, you are. You end up stammering a little, blushing a bit. She fondly assures you that it’s okay to feel this nervousness, and happily accepts being your girlfriend. 

===============================

Now that you two are a couple, her next suggestion for you is to give into those affectionate feelings you have when cuddling with her. She loves the warmth you bring. Wanda didn’t think you could get any cuter, and yet she’s a full-on puddle when you cuddle with her. You’re just so sweet and Wanda can’t help but feel protective over you.

Others begin to notice you opening up more and they start making conversation with you. Of course Wanda’s listening to their thoughts to make sure they’re not interested in going further than a friendship with you. Friends are okay for her, and she’s very excited inside when you make a new friend, as she knows that making friends doesn’t exactly come naturally to you. However if it ever gets to anything past that, she’d have to take action. One does express interest in you, and that doesn’t sit well with Wanda. This person doesn’t deserve such a sweet angel, let alone her sweet little angel. Something must be done. 

That night, after sending you sweet dreams, she sneaks over to their place and hides just outside of their bedroom door. She’s able to track their brain activity, so she knows when they’ve gone to sleep. Once they do, she sends them their worst nightmares, ones that paralyze them in their sleep out of fear. The next day, you don’t see them at their usual time. You figure maybe they’re sick or they overslept. In the meantime, she’s there to keep you company. It happens on and off with them for some odd reason.

If it’s one of the Avengers taking an interest in you, Wanda ensures that the two of you don’t get too close. If you go on a mission and need a partner, Wanda steps up. It’s not really a surprise to them, with her being your girlfriend and all. She glares at the Avenger who’s showing interest, letting them know to stay back. 

=========================================

And then shit hits the fan.

You come back to the compound in tears one night and Wanda’s the first one at your side.

“(Y/N), what happened?” she asks worried.

You tell her about how you ran into someone who said that autism is a disease that needs to be cured and that you shouldn’t exist because you’re a burden on society. Wanda doesn’t leave your side that night. You need someone there for you. Externally she’s supportive and loving. But internally, she’s both heartbroken and fuming as she looks through the memory. A fire storms inside of her. How dare they tell such a sweet and pure soul like you that they’re a burden! How dare they say her sweet angel has a disease that needs to be cured! Wanda knows that autism has its challenges, but also its upsides. It’s not anything that needs a cure. It’s a part of your identity. She will NOT let this slide. Not even a little. 

After cuddling with you, and sending extra-special sweet dreams that night, Wanda finds the place of the person who told you this. Wanda sneaks into their bedroom and induces their worst nightmares, along with a dose of sleep paralysis. She uses her telekinesis to throw objects around the room and even at them. She uses her power to make them choke. Her grief and anger only amplifies the severity. It’s satisfying to her to hear them scream, plead, beg for mercy, to see them so helpless, knowing what they said to her precious angel. She keeps doing this to them until they’re completely broken, even going back multiple nights, just to make sure they’re gone for good. 

You don’t hear from them until you find out that they’ve become completely catatonic. Part of you still feels bad for them for some reason, but you don’t know why.

“You have nothing to feel bad about, (Y/N),” Wanda assures you when you bring this up with her. “Their guilt probably just got the best of them. C’mon, how about we get some lunch together?”

Wanda’s got your back and more for the next few days. And then Tony locks her in her room, and you’re infuriated. He just sees her as a weapon and not a person. In spite of their attempts to convince you to come along on missions, you decide to stay back and keep Wanda company, to make her confinement more bearable. 

The two of you both fight Tony together, end up in the Raft, and escape together, living away from the compound. Then comes the war. You’re the one dusted and Wanda survives. Those five years without you are hell to her. She spirals back into grief, guilt, and trauma, blaming herself for not being able to save you. Thank God for Bruce Banner. In 2023, he brings you back. The second Wanda finds this out, she rushes for you, her eyes filled with tears, and you’re just as relieved to see her. Your warmth sparks a sense of purpose back into her. After you died and were brought back to life, to her you’re truly an angel now, and she refuses to let an angel be harmed. She’s reluctant to let you fight, but she tells you as long as you stay by her, it should be fine.

Tony sacrifices himself to save you all from Thanos. The second the funeral is over, you decide to take a nap. Wanda gently grabs you and takes you to a remote location; a cottage in the middle of the woods on an island. Those five years without you and then suddenly having you back sent her protective instincts into overdrive. She decides that she can’t let anyone or anything hurt you anymore. She’s lost her parents and her brother. She can’t lose you. She won’t lose you.

When you come to, you’re shocked about where you are. 

“H-huh?”

Sitting up you begin to panic when you hear a familiar voice.

“Good! You’re awake.”

The smell of paprika hits your nose as you see her face, a sweet smile upon it. 

“W-wanda?” 

She brings over a plate of chicken paprikash. 

“What do you think, (y/n)?” she asks.

“Of what?”

She gives a little giggle.

“Of our new home, of course.”

Your heart jumps in your chest.

“New home?”

Wanda sets down the food on a nearby table, and sits next to you on the bed you’ve been placed in. 

“(Y/N), I.....those past five years....”

“Must’ve been horrific,” you say, still in shock.

She nods. 

“And I wish I could’ve saved you.”

She gently takes ahold of your hands. 

“And now that you’re back....I’m scared to lose you. I want us to be together forever.”

Your face flushes, and you glance away. She giggles a little and gently guides your face back up to her.

“My sweet (y/n), you’re too adorable,” she tells you.

Your eyes meet the bridge of her nose, and she doesn’t make you look at her eyes. She knows eye contact can be hell for you.

“I’ve missed this energy so much; I’ve missed your kind-hearted nature, your beautiful voice, your wide and innocent eyes, that cute little button nose, you cuddling up close to me. I’ve set everything in this cottage up just for you. I want you to be as comfortable and happy as possible here.”

“Where exactly are we, though?” you ask.

“Somewhere where you’ll never be hurt again. I’ll ensure that.”

This set off a slight red flag, and you panic a little.

“We couldn’t have just moved to a house in the suburbs or maybe a house in Greece?”

She shakes her head as she pets yours, something that absolutely gives you butterflies.

“No. This world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, sweet (y/n). You have such a pure soul-you are a pure soul-and the world outside will only hurt you. Sweet and innocent people, especially at your age, are very rare. They’re like diamonds; real diamonds. They’re extremely difficult to find, but once you do, they’re a treasure that needs to be protected. I want to be that for you. I want to protect you, keep you safe, love you and care for you. This cottage, this island, it can become a whole new world. At least give it a try? For me? Please?”

You want to say no, right? You’re not sure. It feels like something inside of you is at war, but one side is winning. Wanda’s clearly relieved to have you, and you’ve loved her for a long time now as she’s loved you for a long time now. You feel comfortable around her too. Perhaps a little protection might not be the worst idea. At the very least, a trial run wouldn’t hurt.

You nod.

“Okay, I’ll give it a go.”

Wanda hugs you close and gives you a small peck on the cheek. 

“Thank you, my sweet (y/n)! Thank you.”

The two of you have dinner together and then watch a few sitcoms before you cuddle up in bed as Wanda softly sings you a Sokovian lullaby, your head lying near her shoulder. As you drift off to sleep, Wanda watches you endearingly. What you don’t know is that you’re going to enjoy being here. She’d love it if it’s on your own terms, but if you start to seem distant, she won’t hesitate to use her magic to send some suggestions. Maybe it’s to prompt you to ask her to include or remove or change something, or even to enhance your joy for the little things. Extreme worst-case scenario? She’ll plague you with a few nightmares, ones that’ll show you how dangerous the outside world is without her, but it will pain her to do so. Expect a lot of cuddling and kisses from her when you wake up in tears in the hopes of making things better. And she makes sure they do. All she wants is for you to stay and be happy and safe with her. 

And even if you wanted to leave, it’s doubtful that even with your powers, you’ll get past the barrier Wanda’s put up. It’s doubtful that you’ll even get that far. It’s a big island after all. Big and deserted. She wants to give you enough space, but not too much. Just enough to make you happy. If you somehow find it, Wanda will make sure you’ll forget finding it. She’ll fill in the gaps with something else so that it doesn’t seem suspicious. It’s not surprising that she knows how to deal with so many outcomes; she’s had five years to think it over, after all, just in case you came back.

But none of that matters right now. All that matters is that she has you, her precious angel, and you’ll be hers forever one way or the other.

[writteninkat]

soap | bakugou x reader

You change your body wash to the same one Bakugou uses and the fact that you smell like him has your boyfriend feeling all hot and bothered.

F!reader

Warnings: 18+

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.2k words

Author's note: first post here lol I have a bunch of ideas and I can't just sit still and not post them >_< enjoy !!!

You and the girls of A1 were all forced to move to the common room for a few minutes. The sprinklers in your guys' part of the dorms had a malfunction and maintenance had to go to each room and fix every sprinkler.

"You guys wanna eat a snack while you wait?" Sato asks, pulling out a cake from the oven. The girls' mouths began to water as a sweet aroma wafted in the air.

"Where's Y/N?" Bakugou enters the room with his same old scowl, his hands inside his pockets as he marched over to the common area where al lthe girls are.

He scans the room but the corners of his lips only tug down deeper when he doesn't see you. He huffs, turning to sit at the counter with Kirishima and Sero instead.

"She took a shower after the sprinkler broke since she says she was busy studying that she forgot to wash up," Mina explains, "she'll be out in a bit."

True to Mina's words, you finally enter the room and join in on the girls. Kirishima lightly taps a hand on Bakugou's shoulder, motioning his head to silently say 'your girlfriend's here'.

The blond's vermilion eyes scan the room, brightening when he finally sees you amongst the girls. You looked beautiful, as always. Tonight you looked fresh. You were smiling and chatting with the girls and as much as Bakugou didn't want to interrupt your fun time, he just had to hold you. He didn't get the chance to, given that today was a very busy day for the class.

"Oi, Y/N." Bakugou calls over, unintentionally making a few other heads turn to look at him with the same questioning look you have. The blond tilts his head towards a secluded area and you get the message immediately, excusing yourself from the girls.

Once in private, you don't even get the chance to speak as Bakugou pulls you into his arms, breathing in your scent. "You smell nice." He mutters, his voice muffled as he presses his lips between your shoulder and neck.

You chuckle, "I bought the body wash you use. I realized I really like the smell of it when I showered in your room the other day." Bakugou's body freezes, "So I just had to run to the store a while ago and buy myself a bottle."

"You could have just asked me for one, dumbass. I have a shit ton in my room." You chuckle again, pulling him closer for a hug. You breathe in his scent, pouting that the smell on his body is greater compared to yours. Is it because he's been using this body wash for a long time?

"Hey, dumbass." Bakugou calls out, his arms around you becoming tighter.

"Yes, love?"

"What you're wearing right now."

You look down at your clothes- pink silk pajama sets, The upper is the usual button up with a small pocket on the upper right with black accents. The pants are plain with black stripes at the end.

"I bought it last week, remember when I came back with a few bags? Mom gave me extra allowance after I told her I needed more PJ's. Why? You like it?" You ask, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at your boyfriend's face.

"It has..." his hand slowly runs down from the small of your back, to your bum, cupping both cheeks with his big hands. He pulls your body closer to him, your hips hitting his. "...very thin fabric, doesn't it, love?"

Your heart drops to your stomach at the feeling of something hard poking in between your legs. Bakugou pulls his face away from your neck, showing you just how red it was.

"Our classmates are a wall away." You whisper, moving your head from side to side to check on whether your classmates came to check on your guys or not.

"Yeah? Well I'm a hair's width away from losing my cool. You caused this, you take care of it." He pushes all the blame to you and you can actually notice how hard he's currently panting.

You let out a sigh, slowly trailing your hand down from his chest, to his stomach and finally, on the bulge of his sweatpants. Bakugou lets out sharp and shaky breaths, pressing his forehead on your shoulder as you continue to fondle his hardened member.

You smirk at your affect on the boy. He's usually so strong and brave and he just loves to put up a front, but whenever you're alone with him, everything he shows his classmates just comes crashing down and he turns into this clueless boy who doesn't know how to act properly.

"Bakugou." You whisper seductively in his ear, nibbling on it as you push your hand inside his pants. The grip he has on either side of your hips tighten, his hips rocking forward, as if begging for more of your touch.

"Shit, Y/N-"

"Shhh, we wouldn't want to get caught now, do we?" You tease him quietly, softly running your nimble fingers up and down his length. "But, ngghh-"

You press your thumb on the head of his cock, his teeth sinking softly onto your shoulder. You can feel the wetness of his precum smear all over the head of his cock.

"I said quiet." You whisper, flipping the two of you around. Now his back's on the wall as you push him against it, quickly getting on your knees.

You push the hem of his shirt up, pressing it on his lips. The look on his face- blush spread across, teary eyes and scrunched eyebrows. It has your own core dripping wet.

"Q-quickly." He whines, making you chuckle. Who knew the great Bakugou Katsuki would be begging?

You take the head of his cock in between your lips, giving it a soft kiss as you look up at him. Slowly, you begin to take half and as much of his member inside your mouth. Such a desperate baby, such a big cock.

You place your hand on his hip while the other plays with his balls, fondling them softly as to create a stimulation. Bakugou's hands busy themselves by pushing his fingers through your hair, tugging on it making you moan. The vibration caused by your voice causing Bakugou's eyes to roll back.

You bob your head several times, each time you notice how your boyfriend's hips start to buckle and shake. "Ngghh- Y/N- c-cumming.." Bakugou stutters out, bitting hard on the hem of his shirt.

You pull him out, popping the end as if it were a lollipop. You run a hand down his sculpted abs, gaining his attention. His dick is pressed beside your face as you look at him with lust-filled eyes, "cum for me, love."

That pushes Bakugou over the edge, making you chuckle. You watch him with a smirk as he shoots out hot white ropes of cum onto your hair and face and you didn't even have to do anything.

"Love," you fake a pout, "I had just finished showering."

Bakugou pulls out his phone from his pocket, smirking as he open the camera app. He takes a picture of you and how dirty you look right now, on your knees, cumm all over your face and hair while you wear a sheer silk pajama set that shows off a good outline of your hardened nipples.

Once he has enough pictures for himself, he pockets his phone back and pulls you up to your feet. "Then why don't you shower in my room. After all, you like the scent of my soap so much, don't you?"

navigation

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (2)

A/N: Part one came out like two years ago lmao but I’ve always wanted to write another part, and here it finally is! I’m always open to feedback of any kind! x

genre: smut, optional bias (male), demon!bias, angel!reader, reader’s first time, unprotected sex bc we pretend angels and demons can’t have babies or STDs apparently

words: ~ 3.4 k

PART 1

PART 3

Three days had passed since you had begun to live with him. It had taken you some time to get used to your new surroundings and to realize this is where you would spend most of your time from now on. His place was not what angels called beautiful. Had it been yours, it would have been filled with antique statues of heavenly beings, light, soft colors and comfortable pillows and blankets. But his taste differed gravely from yours. He had a love for black marble and accents of red. Not the beautiful, bright red of strawberries in summer. It was dark crimson, like deoxygenated blood fresh out of a wound. You felt like you had entered a side wing of hell itself, sometimes. But you knew hell had to be much, much worse.

On the second day, you had set yourself the challenge of making the place feel at least slightly homier. No one who entered this apartment would, even in their wildest dreams, assume that an angel lived there. Although you weren’t sure you could call yourself that, anymore. Your trip to the grocery store was the most humane thing you had ever done on earth, but surely wouldn’t stay the last. You wondered, while you had strolled around the isles, whether one day you could find yourself working a job on earth, now that you couldn’t call heaven home no more. You still had the desire to help the humans, and maybe you could earn a living whilst doing so.

On that note, you had pondered countless times how a demon could afford the luxury he lived in. But he wasn’t one to tell you about his day when he returned home after being out all night. He called it ‘demon business’ and ‘nothing that should concern a little angel’. One day, you would winkle it out of him. Although maybe you really would be better off not knowing. But you knew, as always that sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you.

When he came home on the second day and laid eyes on the cotton candy-colored flowers on the table, he couldn’t help but smirk at how proud you were. The contrast was stark against the dark ebony table and seemed like an accurate representation of how you had felt in his home.

“If you wanted me to bring you flowers you could have just said so,” he said.

“I like going out to the store myself sometimes,” you replied. He was always so stern when he returned home. Sometimes he had tired eyes, and often he seemed physically exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his strained expression softened. Then, he’d stroke away a strand of your hair and gaze at you with utmost admiration. He had offered to buy you whatever your heart desired, but your angel life had never required you to have possessions. There was no greed or yearning for luxury, and you liked it that way.

One thing, however, you never seemed to get enough of on earth. No matter how many books you opened and got lost in, you always wanted more. And he knew of your wish to learn more about the world. He had gifted you books of philosophy, biology and physics, and yet he had no idea it wasn’t science that interested you the most.

Every night you lay awake for too long, reflecting on what he had said to you that one night. That there was more for you to learn. Before him, you never knew what real pleasure felt like – you weren’t supposed to, even now – but now that you understood, you only wanted to feel it again and again. A few times you had contemplated asking him to show you more. To let you feel the pure bliss of what heaven called sinning again. But he seemed tired when he returned home, and when he didn’t you were too scared to approach him with such a topic. Plus, you didn’t even know how to. Too new was the idea of you – an angel – even thinking of doing such unholy things.

So you spent your days pacing around the apartment, sitting by the window, looking out at the city and waiting for him to come home. One night, you couldn’t fall asleep, as on many other occasions. He wasn’t there next to you, and the bed felt too big for just one lonely angel in it. There was an almost burning sensation between your legs. Once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and thought of other things – floating on clouds, watching older angels’ wings flatter, inspecting your little village you used to guard from above. But nothing helped. It all led back to black eyes, razor teeth, a sharp tongue and hands so hellish in their actions, you should have wished he had never touched you. And yet you never did.

Your eyes shot open when you heard the shower turn on. The alarm clock on the table read 1:57 am. Not so patiently, you waited a few minutes until the sound of the water died down. Then, you tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.

The sight of him made your cheeks heat up. He was sat, in the dark, on the sofa. A towel was around his waist, a few drops of water glistening on his bare chest as he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips.

“What are you doing standing and staring, little angel? Why don’t you come join me?” he suddenly asked. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. Heaven help me now, you thought.

“I thought you didn’t…,” you started, slowly moving across the room as if you were floating.

“I didn’t notice you?” he finished your sentence. You hummed a quiet yes. “Your glow is hard to miss.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. Was he saying, that just as he had a dark aura around him, you radiated a bright one? It made sense to you. You stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him.

“You’re wearing your angel dress again,” he pointed out. He had brought you clothes, but nothing felt as right on your body as your white dress you had always worn.

“I always sleep in it,” you said. “You never see it, since you’re never here.”

“Does my little angel miss me?” he said. His dark eyes watched you intently, but they softened when he realized you had meant your words. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

Not knowing what he meant by those words, you plopped down next to him.

“I meant come here,” he repeated, tapping his lap. Oh. Obediently, you swung one of your legs over his waist. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the fact that his towel was the only thing between your center and his bare skin. Carefully, you watched his eyes for instructions or assurance. You kept your hands tightly by your sides, not daring to touch his skin that shined so beautifully in the moonlight. It was almost ironic, how ethereal his perfectly sculpted muscles appeared to you.

“Tell me, angel, do you sometimes think about what we did three days ago?” he asked, softly brushing his fingers along your arm. You should have felt ashamed to admit it. But with the way he watched you, he seemed to already guess your answer.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” you said, the words spilling out after keeping them in for too long. “I want to know more.”

He smirked, hooded black eyes watching your every breath while his head remained on the backrest of the sofa.

“Is that so?” he almost teased. “Why don’t you kiss me, then? Go ahead.”

Hesitantly, you bent forward until your forehead was almost touching his. Now, you didn’t look into his intimidating gaze anymore, but instead the closeness only made you more nervous. But more prominent than your nerves was your curiosity and your desire you hadn’t been able to shut out for the past days. You smelled a faint note of alcohol before you softly pressed your lips against his. Your kiss was the tender flutter of butterfly wings, like a singular snowflake landing on warm skin, as careful as a little bird in a lion’s cage.

But he kissed back, so overwhelmingly and suddenly, it robbed your breath in an instant. His body straightened up now, arms pulling you closer to his chest. Humming contently, he took your lifeless hands from your sides and placed them on his shoulders. His warm skin was inviting, making it easy for you to melt into his touch. Still, you weren’t used to this feeling. Maybe you would never get used to it. Perhaps it was supposed to be this exciting every single time. He breathed against your mouth heavily and his tongue swiped across your lips. The sensation was enticing and combined with his coaxing hands digging into your waist, your guilt washed away far too quickly. But there had been no redemption after the previous time and there wouldn’t be one now. Or ever. For a moment, you pulled away, needing air.

“Too much? Too fast?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands. A rush of comfort overcame you.

“No, I’m fine. It just feels – really good,” you said.

“Of course it does,” he bragged, smirking infamously.

“Can you…I want you to touch me…like you did last time,” you said. Even you were surprised at yourself. You could have just waited for him and he surely would have made you feel amazing. But now that you knew what it could feel like, you weren’t able to swallow your impatience.

“Such a sinful confession from such holy lips,” he said, voice dripping honey while he brushed two of his fingers across those very lips. “I wonder what other things those could do.”

What could he possibly be talking about? How much was there for you to try out? Whatever it was, you wanted to do it all. You had no idea what had come over you. Was there a secret demon that had taken possession of your body without notice? Or maybe you were simply an angel tired of acting like one.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your sides and to your hips. All while he watched your face like it was his favorite meantime to make you squirm under his touch. When he progressed to your thighs, something dropped in your stomach. Again, your body reacted before your mind did and you wanted to press your legs together. It felt familiar, but just as thrilling as the first time. His head tilted slightly as if to ask ‘do you like this?’ as he lifted the hem of your satin dress. And how you liked it.

You were very aware of being bare in front of him. So, in order to avoid feeling his eyes on your body, you bent forward again to kiss him. Bad idea – because the lack of oxygen and the loss of your sight when you closed your eyes only intensified the need. His fingertips were fleeting, rather non-demon-like, but you knew how fast he could flip his actions, had he wanted to.

They ghosted over your slit, collecting your wetness that had been pooling there. At even the slightest contact of his finger on your clit, you let out a quiet noise. He had been biting his lip, but when he heard you, his eyes met yours in an instant and he smirked.

“Let me hear you, little angel,” he said, before placing a kiss on your neck. While he continued to suck purple marks into your skin, his fingers toyed around your center, figuring out what made you react in the best way. And as the angel you were, always eager to please, you made sure you didn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. It felt weird, noticing the sounds he produced from you so involuntarily, but the more you concentrated on the feeling of his hand between your legs, the easier it was to ignore them.

Maybe you were easy to please, or perhaps you were completely see-through for him. It occurred to you he had you figured out head to toe. How did he know exactly which spots to touch to have you clinging to him, as if you would have fallen had he not held you? He drew random figures on your clit, variating the pace just to keep you on edge right where he wanted you. Now and then, his digits slid further down to your core, almost entering you but not quite yet. Your moans came out in a muffled manner as you had your face buried where his neck and shoulder met.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. So you did. No matter what sort of menace could have possibly lay behind his black orbs, the sound of his voice made you want to give him everything. And judging by the way your hips were moving and pushing against his hands by themselves you had already given your body to him. Against all odds, after all the horror stories you had been told to ensure an angel like you would stay far away from hellish beings, you trusted him.

“What a disgrace…They kept you locked up in heaven all this time,” he spoke. “I should have had you all along. You should have had me.”

It had never occurred to you that you could have looked at it this way. You had been happy in heaven. But then again, you hadn’t known what you had been missing. That’s when he slowly inserted one of his fingers into you. The sensation was unusual, but then he curled his digit and you understood.

“Oh god,” you let out when he touched a certain spot inside of you. It felt so right, you wondered why when you were able to feel this way, you should have been abstinent all along.

“Not exactly a good time to bring up god, huh?” he said, teeth nibbling on your neck. You laughed before you could have stopped yourself, and he looked stunned. But then, his lips curled into a malicious and content grin. At the same time, he added another finger into your core. His thumb remained rubbing against your clit, and like last time, you could feel a knot tying in your stomach as time went on. A string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips and your eyes shut tightly. But he decided you’d have to wait longer for your release.

“Do you think you can handle more?” he asked. You sighed when he retracted his hand from your core and watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips to taste you. His gaze didn’t let you decide whether he eyed you like prey or his most treasured thing in the world.

“Yes, I want you to show me,” you said quietly, almost breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, then,” he announced. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked with him. This time, you didn’t hesitate to get onto his black bedsheets. It had become one of your favorite places to be in his apartment by now and the familiarity of it took away some of your nerves.

“I might be a demon, but I promise I can be gentle,” he said. His eyes were probably the most mellow they had ever been since you had met him. Carefully, he helped you slip out of your dress. “So don’t be scared, little angel.”

You had to admit, when he removed his towel from his waist and your eyes fell on his hard member, you weren’t sure if you would be okay. But then he bent down to you and kissed you. His hands softly stroked your cheeks, making it a hard contrast from his devilish image.

“Still sure?” he asked between kisses. It was like he was sucking the fear out of you, although he should have terrified you all along. You nodded and hummed but then changed your voice to a small whimper when he used his hand to run his cock over your slick center. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself inside of you. The stretch was uncomfortable, at first. He must had noticed by reading your face, because his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It’ll feel better in a bit, I promise,” he said. You relaxed your muscles the moment he kissed you again, his plan of distracting you surely working. When he had completely filled you up, he stayed in place while your tongues touched and you moaned at the feeling. It felt like he had always meant to be there, on top of you, inside of you.

“If you need me to stop or slow down, you’ll tell me, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. Once again you debated how you ended up this way. In bed with a demon. And said demon had his hooded black eyes on you, while he thrusted into you ever so slowly, and you couldn’t believe how out-of-this-world-perfect he looked. Although you would surely need more time to get used to the feeling, there was a hint of pleasure you felt every time he dragged his cock against your walls and that once special spot he had touched before.

Upon hearing how he moaned for the first time, you realized it wasn’t just touch that could make your stomach clench in a deep desire to be close to him. It sounded animalistic and you kept your eyes on the way his sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip. You sucked in a breath when he caressed your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipples.

“This is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, right, little angel?” he spoke, and his gloating smile was so wicked, but handsome, right at that moment. You could only hum a ‘yes’. His lips on your neck were gentle, but your head spun whenever his teeth grazed your angel skin.

“You wouldn’t like it there, either way,” you said. His hand snaked down your body, between your legs where you had been missing them. He let out a growl-like moan when you clenched around his cock from the sudden added pleasure. In no time, he found your clit and used his skilled fingers, and he was right, this should have been the definition of heaven.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Because I couldn’t have you this way, in heaven?”

“Exactly,” you whimpered. “Oh- my-“

The desire to close your legs around him became bigger with each second, the knot in your belly tightening and your mind clouding with nothing but bliss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my own personal heaven,” he said. His free hand brushed away your hair delicately. “Are you gonna let go for me, sweet angel?”

You weren’t sure how to let go, exactly. But if by that he meant for you to close your eyes and just let the feeling wash over you, you would - without a choice - do so. Your high made your back arch against his chest and a small cry escaped your lips. He pushed his digits down on your center, slower now, but making sure to draw out every last second of your orgasm.

He had been speeding up his thrusts but then he pulled out, not wanting to cause you discomfort due to overstimulation. With his hand around his cock and quick movements of his wrist, he managed to bring on his own release, letting his cum spill out onto your thighs. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you finally opened your eyes again, blinking tiredly and wetting your dry lips. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched. The more you looked into his black eyes, the more at home they made you feel.

“How was that, angel?” he asked, his breathing still unsteady.

“Heavenly,” you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. Even against his lips, you recognized his devilish smirk. And up to that point, you had believed ‘heaven on earth’ was just some silly little human saying. Until he proved you wrong.

[itsallyscorner]

Ally!! could you write something from that video you reblogged of getting to know Tom before shooting a film with him! ♥️ You would write it so beautifully :) of course take care of yourself first but whenever you are ready!!

Thank you for requesting this love!!🥰 I was going to save it for last and do my requests in order, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about this request, so here I am! I hope you like it!!💜✨

💌.

Getting To Know You

This is long, I probably overdid it, but I hope you all enjoy!🥰

(GIF credits @thollandgifs )

You wander the halls of the studio, walking down long hallways, turning corners, and eyes scanning each sign on the doors of the rooms. You look back down to your phone, skimming through the email the costume department had sent you. Costume Design / Wardrobe — Room 220. Sighing, you glance at the door beside you, Production Design — Room 125. You mentally cursed at yourself for taking so long to get to the studio. You had just arrived in Cleveland, literally just that morning. After a lengthy flight to Cleveland, you were escorted to the house that you would be calling home for the next several months. There waiting for you was a rented car and the belongings that you had packed from home to be delivered to your rented house. Since the house was already decorated and furnished, there was no need in packing all your furniture from home, instead you shipped clothes you couldn’t fit in your luggage and other important belongings that would be difficult to bring onto a flight.

The moment you stepped foot into the house you didn’t bother looking around or going through the boxes that were stacked near the entrance. You made a quick trip to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a majority of it. The house was spacious but not a hassle to get around, you peaked into a few rooms until you found the bedroom. Removing your shoes, you pulled back the neatly tucked comforter and climbed into the soft bed. Your eyes were already drooping the moment your head hit the pillow. Before sleep can consume you, you turned on an alarm on your phone about an hour and a half prior to the time you were expected to be at the studio.

You were used to traveling to new places due to your job as an actress. Renting out homes and cars for months on end was nothing new to you. Neither was figuring out your way around the new state or country you were currently living in. Though Cleveland was different; you had a GPS to tell you directions to the studio but you were still getting lost, making wrong turns and taking wrong lanes on the highway. Stopping by Starbucks for an iced coffee and croissant to fill you up didn’t help, instead it added on to your reason being late.

You were still roaming the halls with your head tilted down to stare at your phone. The stress from being behind schedule mixed with your sleep deprivation created a headache to pound in your head. Suddenly, your shoulder harshly knocks into something. You yelp, apologies already spilling from your lips as you continue your rush to the costume department—wherever it was.

“(Y/n)?” A familiar voice with an accent asks. Your shoes come to a halt on the carpeted floors of the studio. Your head whips back to see the warm brown eyes you were once staring into during that audition how many months ago.

“Tom!” You exclaim making your way back to him. You were taken aback by his appearance. The last you saw him he was buffer and had a head full of soft dark brown curls. His body was thinner, cheeks a bit more sunken in, and his curls were long gone replaced with a buzzcut. Though you should’ve expected his change in appearance, you guys were playing heroin addicts for crying out loud. You had also been put on a diet in preparation for your role as Emily, loosing a fair amount of weight yourself.

“Hey, you’re here! I didn’t know you were in Cleveland already. How long have you been here?” He asks, arms pulling you in for a friendly hug. You happily accept the gesture, hugging him back.

“Umm, I actually just got here this morning.” You answer once you both pull away. His eyes widen for a second, “And they already called you in? For fittings right?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d have a day to settle in but we’ve got a tight schedule. Filming starts soon—like in a month and a half?” Though filming didn’t start till the next month or so, the Russo brothers wanted both you and Tom to be in Cleveland a month earlier. This was to help with pre production preparations. It was also used to help you and Tom do research for your roles in Cherry and to get to know each other.

Tom looks at the wall with a raised brow, “Uhh, something like that, yeah.” His eyes flicker back to you, “Where are you off to?”

“To wardrobe, but I can’t find the place and I’m already running late.” You sigh.

“Well, lucky for you, I just came from there. I’ll take you.” He offers, raising his elbow out for you. You smile at him, looping your arm around his and quietly thank him. He leads you to the wardrobe department and drops you off; exchanging a quick joke with the ladies and another hug for you before leaving.

You remember the day you met Tom. You were called back from your audition to do a chemistry read with the lead role of Cherry, who at the time you didn’t know was Tom. Your nerves were at a high that day. You’ve made it so far into the audition process that you hoped your anxiousness wouldn’t get the best of you and mess it up. As an actor, you were used to meeting new faces all the time, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have anxiety when it comes to meeting new people. Questions wracked your brain. What if you didn’t have chemistry with the lead role? What if you did have chemistry but the lead role was a dick? Does your breath smell good? Are your clothes too casual? What if you have to kiss the lead role? What kind of scene were you guys doing?

All your questions and feelings of uneasiness were thrown out the window the moment you saw Tom’s friendly face. He greeted you as if you were long time friends. That sweet smile of his made the tension in your body at ease, it was kind and warm, like it was his silent way of comforting you after picking up on your nerves. Tom was a force in the room, his cheerful and optimistic energy radiating off of him and onto the other people in the room. Maybe that’s why you felt so comfortable to be around him during the chemistry read.

He was very welcoming, taking it upon himself to spark a conversation with you while the casting directors and producers prepared themselves for your chemistry read. You remembered the way he naturally leaned closer to you, bending down a few times to hear you, his eyes remaining on yours while you conversed, the both of you aware of each other’s presence. You weren’t going to lie to yourself; Tom was attractive. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you could never get tired of looking into, a charming smile, and a beautiful personality. He was easy to get along with. The chemistry read ended with smiles from everyone in the room. You remember thinking to yourself, if you were going to be casted, you wouldn’t mind being casted alongside him. Weeks of sitting around and patiently waiting, you get a call from the Russos saying you were casted as Emily.

Fittings only took an hour tops, most of the clothes were bought since there was no need in designing fancy or sparkly costumes. Before leaving the studio building, you had a quick meeting with the Russos. It was mostly about the basic stuff, the run down of the schedule, the filming process, preparations, etc. By the time you were done at the studio, the sun had set and the night sky took over Cleveland. You stopped by a fast food chain for dinner and took it to go. You drive home, eat your food, and your night ends there.

The next time you saw Tom wasn’t that long from when you saw him at the studio. He called you days later, asking if you would like to join him at the VA. As someone who had no experience with drugs or were surrounded by people who faced addictions; drugs was a new territory for you. Of course, you’ve heard about it and learned the basics of it at school, but you’ve never had to act like a heroin addict. Until now.

You drive to the VA on an early Thursday morning, this time not getting lost on your way to your destination. The air was chilly, the sky dark and cloudy after braving a storm. You park your car and send a text off to Tom saying you’ve arrived. You meet up at the entrance of the VA. He was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. His attire similar to yours, which made you chuckle to yourself. He greets you with a hug, his arms brining you warmth from the cool air.

“Hey, love.” His voice was deep, still fresh from sleep. You smile fondly at him. Though you first met him a few months back, reuniting a few days ago, the boy’s been growing on you.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me.” The two of you remain outside, hesitant to enter the VA. It daunted both you and Tom to face the veterans inside. The VA was a sacred place for them, you didn’t want to overstep boundaries or offend anyone with questions for research. They’ve suffered from PTSD or were recovering from substance abuse, some of them just starting out their recovery. You did not know what to expect or hear once you step foot into the building.

Tom’s feet shift against the pavement, his hands shoved into his pockets, “Yeah, it’s no problem. I just thought that—you know, since we’re the only two playing heroin addicts in the movie, I thought we could do this together.”

You smile reassuringly at him, “No, I get it. I honestly appreciate it, Tom, thank you.” You look around the area. It was a quiet place, not too many cars parked in the parking lot, a few trees scattered, and the building had a tan almost bland colored exterior. Your eyes drift back to Tom’s, which were already on you.

You gesture to the building with your head, “You ready to go in?” Tom nervously breaths in eyeing the building. You catch on to his hesitancy and place your hand on his arm.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous to talk to them, you know? I don’t want them to think I’m using their suffering as some kind of inspiration for this role.” He explains. You nod understanding, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way, I don’t want to trespass on their privacy either. Wanna take a minute out here?”

“I think I’m good. How about you?” Tom composes himself. You flash him a tight smile nodding. Together, the two of you enter the VA, greeted by a receptionist who leads you both to a room.

You and Tom spend most of the day at the VA listening to the different stories of veterans who’ve suffered from PTSD and or substance/drug abuse. Some of them were very open and willing to share, telling you the hardships of their experience. Then there were those who were at the start of their recovery journey, a bit closed off, but were still willing to share nonetheless.

Tom watched as you listened to each veteran intently. Your eyes remained on them, your head nodding along, as you asked them questions or added some input to their stories. Unlike Tom, you seemed more composed and calmer than him. This was something he wasn’t used to, he wasn’t used to talking about drugs or military veterans and addiction. All of this talk was uncharted territory for him, it was dark and terrifying, something he never associated himself with. He was glad you agreed to come along because without you he wasn’t sure if he could do this all alone.

Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some kind of attraction towards you. There was just some sense of comfort or tranquility that drew him to you. You had the brightest smile that lit up the room, sometimes he even found himself smiling because of it. He admired the way you greeted each veteran or former drug addict with a comforting smile and talked to them as if they were just a person, and not as someone who’s been suffering. You made the room feel like a safe space for them to share their experiences without feeling like they were being judged.

Tom was quiet for the most part, asking questions when he felt they were necessary or when something peaked his interest. He added a few comments here and there but for most of the time he listened. He listened to the horrifying and heartbreaking experiences of each veteran. There was a point in the interviews where it dawned on Tom that he was going to have to portray what these veterans went through. From the traumas of war, through the struggles of PTSD, to the excessive use of drugs and alcohol—Tom became reluctant in becoming Cherry. Was he really ready to become a heroin addict? Was he mentally prepared to shred himself and be in the mindset of something so ruinous?

From time to time you glanced over at Tom, checking if he was alright. At the start he was a bit fidgety, his leg bouncing and fingers fumbling with each other. His questions came out stuttered but by the middle of the interviews he grew comfortable in the room. Once in a while you would ask him how he was and he would answer with a small nod and an assuring smile. He then would reciprocate the question with a whisper leaning closer for only you to hear.

By the time the last veteran walked out, Tom felt a responsibility to give these people justice. To not only tell their stories and of other veterans around the world, but to bring awareness to the things that they’ve faced. Not only Tom felt that but so did you. These people have opened up to you guys about the darkest and lowest points in their lives, the best way you can both thank them would have to be by portraying your roles as accurate and realistic as possible.

There was a stillness in the room; it was quiet. The only sounds being heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall beside you and the distant sound of cars driving by. Tom was the first to speak, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your brows knitted together, put off by his random comment. “Why’s that?”

Tom shrugs, taking a breath in and turning in his seat to face you, “I couldn’t have done these interviews alone. From trying to make them feel comfortable and asking all these questions, I would’ve felt so overwhelmed. So, thank you.”

Your mouth curves into a small smile, “Give yourself some credit. I couldn’t have done this without you either. I can’t imagine doing these interviews alone, I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of all those stories by myself.”

Moments later the two of you finish your time at the VA. You walk towards your car, which was nearest to the building. “This is me.” You gesture to your car.

Tom nods in response. After all the stories he’s heard, he didn’t want to be alone. Sure, he has Harry back at his place, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t understand what was going through Tom’s head. Tom hesitates to ask you if you want to hang out, but after a quick mental argument against himself, he pushes himself to ask, “Um, what are you doing after this?”

You unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll probably stop by Whole Foods or something. I need to fill up my fridge and pick up some stuff at Target that I might need.” You lean against the frame of your car. “Why?”

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something—it’s totally fine, since you’re busy and all.” Tom stutters out as he waved his hand at you. He was a bit disappointed that you were busy, besides not wanting to be by himself, he really wanted to spend time with you. You guys were friendly, but he wanted to get to know you more.

“Hey! If you want, you could come along? I could use the company.” You suggest, lips curving to a half smile. You gesture to his arms and jokingly say, “I could also use a pair of strong arms to help me.”

Tom bashfully chuckles, “I’d like that.” He turns to where his car was parked and motions to it over his shoulder. “I brought my car, so I guess I’ll just follow you there?”

“Yeah, I’ll just, I’ll text you the location.” You hold your phone up.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Tom confirms and pulls you into a hug. You giggle at how affectionate he can be. You were gonna see him again in just a few minutes; the drive to Whole Foods wasn’t that long.

Tom parks his car besides yours in the Whole Foods parking lot. You both lock up your vehicles and make your way into the market. On the way, Tom grabs a shopping cart for you. You try to steal it away from him, but he insists on pushing the cart the entire time. You take out your list on your phone and navigate your way through the aisles of Whole Foods. While you throw things into the cart, you and Tom converse. The both of you share some basic information, like things about your hometowns, your families and friends, just the general stuff. You guys were talking about pets when you reached cereal aisle.

“I had a Yorkie when I was growing up, he was the sweetest little thing. He sadly passed because of a heart attack.” You reminisced as you scanned the shelves for your preferred cereal brand. Your hand held onto the cart that Tom pushed with his elbows, as he leaned his entire weight onto the cart.

Tom frowned at the mention of your dog, “I’m sorry.” You give him a look, wordlessly telling him that you were ok and have moved on. “So, did you get to bring Tessa to Cleveland?”

“Nope, she’s not too fond of flights, so I don’t put her through the struggle of getting on a plane.” You find your cereal and try to reach for it, “Aww, I would’ve wanted to meet her. From what you told me, she sounds like a sweetheart.”

Tom chuckles at you before coming from behind the cart and helping you get the cereal down. You look at him with a sheepish grin, “I had that, but thank you.”

Tom squints his eyes playfully at you, “Did you really? Because you looked like you were struggling a bit?”

“No, I was stretching.” You quip back eyes twinkling with amusement. You place the box in the cart and drag the cart. Tom chuckles returning to the front of the cart and pushes it. You look back at him, “You wanna have dinner at my place? I could make a pretty good pizza.”

“Is that so? I guess I might have to try it for myself, I’m in.” He agrees. The two of you finish up at Whole Foods. The cart was overflowing with brown bags when you and Tom walked back to your cars. Always the gentleman, Tom helps you put all your bags into your car’s trunk and even takes back the cart to the designated area that stored them. You split off into your separate cars and stop by Target before you go home. Going to Target with Tom was probably one of the most chaotic and hilarious things you’ve ever done. It took you about two hours in Target just to get what you were looking for. Most of the time in the store was you and Tom looking at children’s toys, making fun of weird costumes you found, and finding meaningless shit to buy because why not? You never thought Tom could be a dumbass until you saw him try to bounce a ball onto the floor and make it land onto his head.

“Tom, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You warn him, looking around to see if anyone were looking at you guys. You spot a camera a few feet away but it was nowhere close to you both.

“Don’t worry darling, we won’t. I got you, trust me.” He assures you as he gets himself into position. You shake your head at him while you sip on the coffee you got from Starbucks.

“Wait, so what are you doing again?” You ask.

“I’m going to try and get the ball on my head.” He answers clearly distracted. He digs his sneakers into the floor and prepares himself to bounce the ball. “You ready, darling?”

“No, but go ahead.”

It all happened so quick. Tom being the dumbass he was, underestimated the amount of force he put onto the ball. Instead of the ball bouncing a few feet into the air, it bounces into the next aisle and the next thing you both know you hear a *boing* and a baby crying. You and Tom look at each other with wide eyes. He rushes over to you and helps you maneuver the cart away from the sports section. You’re caged in by his arms, in between the cart and his chest as you both quietly giggle to yourselves.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.” You tell him through more fits of giggles.

The two of you are now in your rented house. You work together in the kitchen, working as a team to figure out the recipe for the pizza dough. Tom is beside you, looking over your shoulder while you both read through the Food Network recipe on your phone.

“Ok, we did all of that. So now we knead the dough, toss it into a bowl and let it rise. Then we could roll it in a little bit.” You read turning your phone off and looking at Tom. He nods and takes the dough out. You sprinkle flour onto your counter and onto the dough as Tom volunteers to knead the pizza dough.

Tom’s Spotify playlist plays lowly in the background. You were both quiet, basking in the comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Weirdly enough, there was never an awkward moment with Tom. He could say the same thing for you.

You try to avoid the way his arms flex and how his veins pop out as he massages the dough. You glance at his buzzcut hair and ask, “Do you think your hair will grow back by the time you shoot Spider-Man three? Or are we going to have a bald Peter Parker?”

He stops his motions and looks at you shocked, “You’ve watched my Spider-Man movies?”

“Of course I have! I’m a big Marvel fan, my whole family actually is, especially my nephew. We love your version of Spidey—well except my dad and his brother, but besides them we love your version.” You explain. You see a smile twitch onto his lips as he continues his task.

“Wow, thanks. I never thought you’d watch my movies.” Through the warm lights of your kitchen, you see a blush spread onto his cheeks.

“What do you mean?”

Tom stops massaging the pizza dough and looks at you, “Well I’ve—wow this is embarrassing—but I’ve always kinda been a fan of your work. My brothers and I always watch your movies, and they never disappoint us. You’re just amazing! And now I get to work with you, and I’m not going to lie I’m still a bit starstruck, but it’s literally an honor to work with you.”

You look at him taken aback by his confession. You shake yourself out of your shock, “Well I guess that makes the two of us because you still make me a bit starstruck whenever I see you too.”

From that night on, you and Tom always hung out. Whether it be at your house or his, you both managed to spend the entire day together. Sometimes you’d both stay way too late at each other’s house, that you ended up having sleepovers. You guys would still have weekly visits to the VA, doing more research and meeting more veterans. To lighten the mood after, you and Tom would go to Target, get a bunch of junk food and knickknacks, then go to one of your places to watch a movie. The two of you have even explored Cleveland on your own with Harry tagging along once in a while. When Tom found out you were going to be living alone during the duration of filming, he offered that you could stay with him and Harry. Though you didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, both Holland brothers insisted that you live with them. You were still debating on their offer, but you were still spending most of your nights with them anyway.

It was one of those nights again but it was different. Today was the last free day you both had before filming began. It was different because you haven’t portrayed the deeply flawed characters you were both casted as. You and Tom spent the morning at the studio along with the Russos and the rest of the cast doing a table read of the entire movie. Reading and listening to the entire movie out loud made you anxious for the day to come. You were scared that not only you, but Tom, might go down a spiral of darkness throughout the process of this film. Cherry was something new for both of you. Neither of you have worked on a project as cataclysmic or dreadful as Cherry.

You were quitely sat on Tom’s couch staring at the sun setting through his windows. Tom was in the kitchen making the both of you cups of tea to warm you up from the harsh cool air of Cleveland. Harry was in his room, telling you and Tom that he was going to take a nap and to not worry about him. Tom watched you from the kitchen. The sun’s golden rays reflected on your skin, giving it a glow. Your brows were furrowed as you seemed to be deep in thought.

“Wanna sit on the patio and see the sunset from outside?” Tom comes up behind you with a half smile on his lips. You happily nod and take his hand to get off the couch. He slings his arm around you and hands you your jacket. He tells you to go out first and that he’ll meet you outside with the tea.

You sit on the steps of his patio, watching the sky change from shades of blue to a mix of orange, pink, and purple. You hear the door open and footsteps against the wood of the floors. You look up to see Tom holding two cups of tea with a fluffy blanket over his shoulder. A beanie was now on his head and a jumper was pulled over his shirt.

You thank him as he hands you your cup. Tom settles beside you, placing his cup on the steps and began to open up the blanket.

“Why do you have a blanket?” You ask him. He untangles the blanket and puts it over his shoulders, his arm wraps around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“To keep us warm.” He answers while he reaches for his cup. “I tried to find another blanket, but I think Harry took it.”

You brush his comment off, “It’s fine, I like this better.”

A peaceful silence lays upon the two of you as your eyes stare at the sky and your lips sip onto the cup. Tom’s arm remains around you as his fingers draw random patterns onto your arm. Tom was the first to break the silence.

“How do you feel about filming starting tomorrow?” He asks you quietly. Your eyes shift to the tea in your cup.

“Honestly? I’m a bit nervous, especially since we’re starting off with the heroin addiction parts. I don’t know how to feel about it.” You answer.

Tom hums, “I know what you mean. I’m pretty scared too.” Your eyes remove themselves from your cup to look up at Tom.

“Why are you scared?”

“I just—it scares me that all the acting and trying to be in the mindset of Nico might actually affect me. Like maybe by the end of this film, he’ll be a part of me.” He admits, his teeth gritting against each other. You look at him sympathetically. He was truly going through a war in his mind; just by the way he was glaring at the sky and how his fingers stopped drawing on your arm and instead gripped it. It was like he was looking for leverage to stop himself from falling down a loophole of possible outcomes of the end of this movie.

Your hand grasps his hand on your shoulder, catching his attention. His deep brown eyes connect with yours, “You’re not going to turn into Nico, Tom.”

“How do you know that? What if the more I act like him the more I turn into him? (Y/n), what if I get so lost into the character that I eventually loose myself in the process? What do I do when that happens?” He began to ramble, questions spilling from his tongue as he looked at you pleadingly.

You shake your head and squeeze his hand, “It’s not going to happen Tom. You wanna know how I know why?” Tom shakes his head.

“Because we’ll have each other’s backs. I’ll be there right beside you. If you ever feel like you’re spiraling down too deep as Nico, I’ll be there to get you out. You don’t have to go through all of that alone, Tom. I’ll be here for you, you could trust me.” You promise him. Tom’s mind seems to stop racing as his eyes gaze into yours. He finds nothing but honesty in them. You feel his hand fumble with yours before he interlocks them together.

“What if it gets really ugly?”

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable honey, especially around me, I won’t judge. I’ll still be there for you. ” You reassure him. You try to lighten up the mood by bumping your shoulder against his. “Plus, we’re actors, vulnerable is our middle name. How do you think Leo finally got an Oscar?” You joke. The frown on Tom’s face breaks as he stifles a laugh. You smile at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, he was happy.

Your laughter dies down and you’re staring at him again, “But seriously, Tom. I’ll be here for you whether you like it or not, nobody should have to go through the mental capacity of a heroin addict by themselves.”

Tom nods, “Thank you. I can’t imagine anyone else in my corner but you while we film this. You’ve honestly been such a godsend and we haven’t even started filming yet. Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me.” He smiles fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pulling you into a hug. You hum in response and place your head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t have to thank me.”

Silence once again consumes the both of you. The birds chirp in the distance and the sky has now turned a dark purple. “You can count on me too. I’ll be there for you.” Tom whispers against your hair. You silently thank him, snuggling closer to his warm embrace. The fears of tomorrow slowly fade from your bodies as you watch the darkness consume the light in the sky.