#their mistakes are part of who they are and their journey let them make them and let them learn from them

[uselessnbee]

okay i don't want to be THAT bitch but if El calls out Mike on his bullshit in s5 how the love confession was shit and untrue i do kinda want Mike to turn around and be like "okay well what do you love me for?" because let's be real girl would not have an answer for that 💀

and maybe it would be good to be the last thing that would make her go oh i've never loved him that way either

like yes she totally should throw everything in Mike's face cause she deserves so much better but let's not pretend like she's a good girlfriend to him and it's just Mike being the problem

this fucker has been depressed and struggling for months and like did she ever even ask how is he doing? not her fault but the fact that Mike has been struggling and never once thought about talking to El because he doesn't feel like he can be vulnerable with her? the fact that he pretends he's someone he's not because he feels like she wouldn't want him for who he is? seriously no hate to El i love her to bits and yes Mike is bigger asshole in this but we really need to stop acting like El is perfect and can do no wrong

and that one time in s4 when Mike actually tried to be vulnerable with her and let her know that he understands because he's been bullied his whole life and she just invalidates his feelings and completely dismisses him? i do understand her pov and what she meant but as someone who's also been bullied and have so many people invalidate my feelings and how it affected me and still affects me to this day all the time it really hurt to hear it. the way Mike's feelings are constantly being invalidated and dismissed by both the characters in the show and this fandom just because "others have it worse" really disgusts me

anyways i really just want to point out that this is a relationship. there are two people in this relationship and it all goes both ways. it's not just Mike being an asshole friend and a shitty boyfriend. El isn't really a great girlfriend either and when they were just hanging out together the whole summer it is on El too. they're both just kids trying to do their best and making mistakes we can acknowledge that both of them make some really questionable things so they both can grow and learn

[itsbuckytm]

Envy and Passion / Coriolanus Snow

summary : being the daughter of Casca Highbottom had its advantages and challenges. As long as one maintained a private and noble demeanor associated with the family name, there were benefits to enjoy. However, the downside came in the form of her father's deep-seated animosity towards the Snow family. despite this, the Coriolanus Snow devised a plan to reunite her, foreseeing a journey towards greatness, enduring purity, lust and a lasting legacy.

ps ; read part two!!

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you

You experienced contentment as a student at the Capitol's Academy, all thanks to your father's insistence that you become involved in his work until graduation. It was during your final year that the announcement for the 10th Hunger Games came unexpectedly early. While you had expected to work alongside Dr. Gaul as a Gamemaker, you found yourself assisting during the reaping ceremony. It was there that you first encountered Snow. 

"No distractions." Your father emphasized, implying a prohibition on interactions with your classmates. Despite the difficulty in ignoring the palpable tension between him and Snow, a part of you harbored a wish that, without the animosity, a friendship could have blossomed. That's what you longed for—a connection you could deem as friendship. To everyone’s surprise, Highbottom's daughter being chosen among the mentors became the talk of the Academy, thrusting you into the limelight against your wishes. Being the center of attention was something you despised the most.

"Miss Highbottom." Dr. Gaul greeted you as you entered the room designated for the impending reaping ceremony. The enthusiasm in her voice hinted at some special arrangements for your role and, perhaps, your involvement in a specific aspect of the Games. However, such expectations shifted when you observed Snow's silhouette standing beside her. A brief exchange between the two suggested an ongoing conversation, making you contemplate to excuse yourself of interrupting further. Despite this, Dr. Gaul, with her customary smile, welcomed your presence and inquired. "Have you met Mr. Snow?"

Did you meet him? Undoubtedly, you had. Given your father's openly declared animosity towards him, it was clear that some past conflict existed between your father and Snow's. Yet, the perplexing part was why such strong feelings were directed at the son, who was merely alive and fulfilling the responsibilities of a dutiful citizen. That remained a mystery to you. "Certainly, I have. My father never stops talking about him. How he 'adores' him." you replied with a touch of irony. In the peculiar logic of your father, adoration seemed to coexist with complete disdain. 

Snow's demeanor appeared uneasy in your presence, yet he quickly regained confidence when he noted your affirmation. Whether you were suggesting this to please Dr. Gaul or for some other reason, he intended to assert his dominance once alone, especially with a member of the Highbottom family. However, instead of confrontation, he simply smiled and acknowledged the subtle comment. "I can't say I'd be eager to hear what Y/N's father thinks of me, let alone my family's name." He remarked. 

"Don't take it personal." You suggested, a smile playing on your features as you attempted to lighten the moment while conversing with Snow. It was intriguing to encounter the Snow your father so vehemently despised, and yet, here he was, appearing composed and not entirely matching the description your father painted. "My father has always had a soft spot for pretty faces." You added with a hint of irony.

In the realm of subjective beauty, Snow found it almost amusing to consider that you held your own private entertainment. Embracing your father's comments, you became a figure easily envied, yet the tension shared between them made it difficult not to be stirred. Fairly speaking, you stood out as one of the most attractive girls in the class, alongside Clemensia; the two of you complemented each other seamlessly. Described as cold as the winter’s snow due to the striking contrast between your fair skin and dark locks inherited from your mothers, you and Clemensia exhibited a captivating allure. Snow entertained the notion that if he delved even further into the profound depths of your eyes, he might lose himself completely—in love, that is. And he hated every bits of it. 

"If I were you, I'd be on my best behavior, sweetheart." He advised, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dr. Gaul was observing. You could almost swear you saw her smile transform into a devious smirk, a subtle admission that she relished the spectacle before her—a spectacle of envy and hatred entangled in a mutual trap. "And what will happen if I don't?" You countered, striving to maintain control just as your father made his entrance, signaling the commencement of the reaping ceremony. His eyes fell upon you and Snow in close proximity, prompting him to be the first to assert authority. "Snow, to your seat now." He commanded. It was evident that Snow's disdain for your father resurfaced as he shot you a final glance before begrudgingly taking his seat.

Fortuitously, you found yourself seated next to him. In all honesty, you had orchestrated this arrangement, intending to be by his side even before your father's disapproving gaze hinted at a switch. However, it was too late by then; the ceremony had commenced, and your father's attention was fully absorbed in the mentors and assigned tributes. This provided you with the perfect opportunity to approach Snow once again. Leaning in, both eyes fixed on the screen to maintain an appearance of focus, you remarked. "You know, if it weren't for my father's animosity towards you, I'd be eager to get to know you."

Snow's piercing blue eyes shifted from the screen to yours. He blinked twice, as if questioning whether he had heard correctly. Highbottom's own daughter appeared to be permitting their adversary to draw a little closer. Or perhaps, in her eyes, he wasn't an enemy at all. He chuckled ever so slightly at the ironic situation. “And if it wasn’t for your father’s constant reminder that my own father was an asshole, I’d say that his own daughter is the most prettiest and fuckable girl I have ever laid my eyes upon.” 

A blush crept beneath your features, a delicate balance of beauty that Snow took pleasure in accentuating. You shared the same acknowledgment as he did, though you maintained a touch more class, unlike him. He tended to be straightforward and always in control, a demeanor he effortlessly displayed as he rendered his fellow classmate completely vulnerable with his words. Leaning in further, his fingers traced along your thigh, causing a tingling sensation at its touch and making your blush more evident. "To be fair, I've always had my eyes on you, you know?" He confessed. "Dr. Gaul wanted to make a proposition earlier and suggested that we work together for the whole semester, even having the lab all to ourselves…" 

“Meaning?” Of course you knew. Having the Lab to yourselves meant that Snow was going to make sure that he had every bits of fantasies piled through him just to have you all too himself. “Meaning, I’ll be able to fuck you endlessly. Maybe a distraction is what I do need after all. Can’t say that especially having the luck to be with Highbottom’s most gorgeous daughter.” 

That wasn't until Snow himself became entranced by your beauty, especially when it was his turn to learn about the tribute he was about to meet. "Coriolanus Snow." Your father's voice echoed with the same undertones of hatred and boredom, his disdain evident at the mention of a name from a generation he feared would worsen Panem. "District 12. Girl." Snow's gaze shifted from the screen to the captivating performance you were putting on. Yet, his current fixation remained on you. Leaning in further, he let his breath linger in the crook of your neck, his lips gently brushing your skin, and you could've sworn you felt a few pecks too. Fortunately, your father remained oblivious, continuing to list the remaining mentors. Suppressing a silent giggle, you pretended that Snow had said something amusing. "And how about..." He continued, placing a few more pecks on your neck. Delicately, you tried not to make your blush too obvious. "After the ceremony, I have to get some paperwork done at the lab. It would be a shame if I didn't have something to keep me focused." 

“Why of course, Mister Snow.” You admitted it so effortlessly, causing Snow's smile to transform into a cunning smirk. It was a smirk filled with desire, and longing. Snow yearned to experience the taste of you and hear you utter his name, just so your father could discover that his own daughter had unknowingly fallen into Snow's snare. From this moment forward, you belonged completely to him.

“Then, I’ll make sure to know who you belong to. Princess.”

[usedtobecooler]

it’s simple and it goes like this | steve harrington x reader

a/n: thank you in advance to anybody who reads this little labour of love, i’ve had such a great time writing this one and i’m so proud of the finished outcome. title from i’m in love with you by the 1975. 6.1k words.

tw: EXPLICIT CONTENT 18+ MINORS DNI, reader uses she/her pronouns and has female anatomy, piv sex, oral f receiving, creampie, soft sex, dirty talk. intoxicated characters, admission of feelings, angst and fluff. characters ages are around mid-late twenties.

summary: turning down a ride from your roommate and brotherly figure, eddie munson, in favor of staying behind at a christmas party ends in you finding an unexpected escape in steve harrington. a drive home and copious amounts of flirting later, the night unfolds in passion and letting out unspoken feelings, leaving you to grapple with the consequences of the choices made.

Staying behind at Jon and Nancy’s Christmas party had been a mistake, and only now, inhaling nicotine into your lungs without a clue on how to get back home, did you realize the weight of this mistake and how badly you wished you could rewind to an hour prior when you had a guaranteed ride.

Eddie offered you a ride home when he was heading out, which you declined immediately. His girl, Heather, really wasn’t overly keen on you, and would do anything to make the journey home as painfully awkward as possible.

You and Eddie had lived together for a few years now, the bond between you both knitting together so tightly, transcending more than just shared rent and somebody to talk to at night. He became your confidant, and you his, finding comfort in each other in a way that could only be described as a sibling bond. As much as you loved him, would do anything for him, he wasn’t for you, and you weren’t for him.

Eddie was just trying to look out for you tonight, be protective in that typical brotherly way, and make sure you got home in one piece.

You mentally kick yourself for being a moron and placing your discomfort at sharing a closed space with his girlfriend above your safety.

Standing outside as the rain starts to pelt down and seep into your skin, you’re regretting your decision. Heather was an ass, but dealing with her for a twenty minute car journey would’ve been favorable over standing outside in freezing temperatures, getting soaked to the bone.

You stub out what’s left of your barely lit cigarette, crushing it under the heavy weight of your Docs. You scan the deserted street for any sign of life, only for whatever forces that are in charge to offer you some form of rectitude — Steve Harrington’s car hums in the distance, lights illuminating the otherwise empty road.

The Beemer rolls up, Steve’s arm flexing as he rolls down the window, “Need a ride?”

Steve’s eyes are hazy, a flash of mischief shining in the dark honey hues — he’d spent the majority of the party with Eddie, the pair of them suddenly the best of friends after years of teenage hatred. He’s so high, you can smell it on his expensive jacket. 

Eddie’s disappointed face flashes through your mind, but the heavy material of your own jacket clings to your body, soaked through from the pelting rain. Fuck what Eddie would think, getting in Steve Harrington’s car beats whatever was going on out here.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, a sharp little smile on your face as you round the car, sliding into the passenger seat. The door slams shut and you’re suddenly cocooned in familiar scents of leather and Steve’s cedarwood cologne. It’s painfully comforting.

The engine roars to life once more, and Steve makes off down the street without another thought. You pretend not to notice how his eyes hardly leave your soaked frame as you drive on.

The car purrs as you drive down the quiet streets, the unspoken tension between you both sizzling as Iron Maiden plays softly from the speakers. Eddie really made sure Steve saw all parts of him when they began hanging out, and Steve took to Eddie’s music tastes painfully quickly. 

“What’s the story then, princess?” Steve grins, finally breaking the silence, “Turning down a ride with Eddie for a nicotine break was a little silly. It’s freezing out there, you’d have caught your death if I hadn’t shown up.”

“My knight in shining armor,” you deadpan, sighing quietly and cringing when you catch yourself being a little rude, “sorry, uh. I didn’t wanna be a third wheel, Heather and I, we don’t get along at all.”

Steve chuckles quietly, “She’s a bitch.” 

“She’s such a bitch,” you agree with enthusiasm, finally turning slightly in your seat to face Steve properly, “I dunno what the hell Eddie sees in her.”

“Big boobs,” Steve shrugs, making a face when you hum in disappointment under your breath, “fair point, though. Can’t blame you for wanting to avoid that situation. Still, I can’t believe he left you there like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, your cheeks flushing hot. Was Steve being protective?

“I saw you dodging advances from a certain somebody tonight,” Steve wiggles his brows, cutting the tension quickly, “what’s the deal? He not doing it for you anymore?” 

You groan, rolling your eyes as you slump back into your seat, “I’m not in the mood for Brad’s games, y’know? He’s so hot and cold.” 

“Games, huh?” Steve grins, eyes landing on you for a moment, flirty and devastatingly attractive, “Maybe you’ve just not found somebody yet who plays the right ones.” 

You flush hot, heart practically beating out of your chest, because this is clearly the weed talking. Steve hadn’t flirted with you since that one time in sophomore year, when you’d come back from Summer break and had blossomed enough for the one and only The Hair to find you worthy of his time.

“Smooth, Harrington,” you choke out eventually, spluttering on your own saliva as you struggle to get the words out, “your list of admirers is endless, do you use that line on all the girls?” 

“Well, maybe I’m looking for somebody who can keep up.” Steve passes a lingering glance over your body, only to look away and avert his eyes back to the road before you can say anything further.

Over the years you had known him, you and Steve had shared stolen glances and cryptic smiles. Gravitating towards each other in Eddie’s absence, but never taking that next step. Steve had a list of conquests, and it pained you to admit every last one hurt to watch – somehow it pained you more to admit how pleased you’d become when each of them left just as fast.

You both knew that these were dangerous waters to tread, how protective Eddie could be over you was enough to have Steve keeping you at arms length, his respect for Eddie was too great to push it further. Yet here you were once again, sharing a confined space and feeling an aura of comfortability that couldn’t just be ignored until it went away.

The rest of the journey passes in silence, and all too soon Steve is pulling onto the dirt track towards the trailer you and Eddie share. The place is still in darkness, and you have to suppress an eye roll – Eddie was hardly ever home overnight now, too used to shacking up with Heather in her apartment in town.

Steve cuts the engine, slapping a hand down on his jean clad thigh, “I’ll walk you to your door, it’s creepy as hell out here in the dark.” 

He shudders for emphasis, and before you can protest and tell him you can manage on your own, he’s out of the car and rounding the trunk to open your door for you.

“Thanks, Steve, you really don’t have to.” You insist, stepping out of the car and internally cringing as your boots squelch in the thick mud where the tyres of Eddie’s van typically embed themselves.

“It’s okay, wouldn’t wanna risk something happening to you,” Steve says, a hand coming out to just barely touch the small of your back as you struggle like bambi on ice in the slippery mud, “here just – just take my hand.”

Steve extends his hand out and you take it with a slight hesitation, your need to make it to the front door without being soaked in rain and mud outweighing the heavy feelings sitting in your chest. 

It’s almost frightening how normal it feels, to have your hand clasped with Steve’s as you walk the short path to the trailer. You don’t want to know what that means, but it feels so nice, the way Steve’s large, warm hand encapsulates your own has your head spinning.

You have to, albeit sadly, let go of Steve to fish in your jacket pocket for a front door key. After a fight with the lock, the door swings open, the warm heat so inviting that you basically barge through the doorway, tugging Steve in with you without thinking.

Steve gawps a little, flounders from where he stands as you lean over his large frame to shut the door behind him, toeing off your shoes like you would any other night. When you finally take a moment to realize what you’ve just done, so casually, you’re suddenly aware of the slight crackle of tension, the magnetic pull of your bodies as you shuffle close together.

You guide him further into the house, flicking on a lamp that’s perched on a nearby table, illuminating the room with a soft, warm glow. Losing your jacket and throwing it haphazardly on a random surface. 

Everything seems to narrow with each step, pulling you both as close together as possible with each passing moment. Neither of you pull away, either, walking as tightly together as you can manage in the small space. 

“You want a drink or something?” You ask, trying to keep yourself as nonchalant as possible, schooling your voice as you cast a sidelong glance at him. 

Steve grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes, as he gently declines the offer with a shake of his head, "As tempting as that sounds, princess, I spotted a little note from Eddie saying he'd be back soon. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome and have him play a game of twenty questions.”

Your confused gaze follows his where he nods over your shoulder, and sure enough there’s a scribbled out note on the pin board hung up the wall;

BE BACK SOON SWEETHEART, DONT LOCK ME OUT!! 

You really do roll your eyes this time around, mentally sticking the middle finger up at the fucking note. You walk back and lean on the dining table, crossing your arms over your chest. You can’t pretend that you don’t notice Steve’s gaze never leaving your body, watching your every move as you shuffle around. 

He looks disappointed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. You dare to fix your own stare on him from where you’re perched, can’t ignore how he so naturally hovers towards you despite the rejection. Like he wants to do one thing but is saying another, trying to be the good guy.

Steve was a good guy.

In the closeness, the push and pull between you and Steve becomes devastating. The air is thick with unspoken admissions, and whatever sort of invisible barrier you had between you both begins to fade as you float into each other's space once more. 

With a nod of his head towards the door, Steve finally breaks the silence. "Guess I should get going, huh?" 

The words hang in the air, a question and an invitation, leaving you to decide which it’s going to be. The doorway goes out of focus, blurs as Steve inches closer to you and further from it, the silent tension lingering in the air – an unanswered question.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you respond, "You could stay, you know? We could… hang out." 

You offer with some sort of nonchalance, despite how your heart hammers in your chest, and it hangs with anticipation as you hold his gaze, leaving the choice in the hazy space between lingering and leaving.

Steve sucks in a slow breath, his eyes flickering between yours and the curve of your lips. You shiver visibly, and in that fleeting moment, Steve inches a fraction closer. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it speaks volumes.

Up this close, you could really marvel at just how gorgeous Steve is, his tan skin flecked with beauty marks and moles, dotted like constellations. You wanted to connect them all with your tongue, kiss and bite him until he was branded.

“You want to, right?” You breathe, chest heaving slightly, and you forget all about how damp and uncomfortable your clothes are, how when he picked you up you wanted nothing more than to have a hot shower and go to sleep. Now, you want everything but that. You want to see how far Steve will go, you want to know if he wants you as much as you want him.

“Eddie’ll probably be back any minute,” Steve murmurs, those deep set eyes scanning over your entire face, lingering on your lips, and the tip of his tongue peaks out to swipe along his own bottom one, wetting it, “we… we shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t,” you agree eventually, voice breathy and lacking conviction, entire body vibrating, leaning into Steve just as much as he was leaning into you. Your hands grasp for the edge of the table, grounding you when you need it most, anticipation enough to have your heart hammering in your chest.

“Yeah, we… definitely shouldn’t.” Steve mimics, leans in closer, his hot breath fanning your face. He’s beautiful like this, so close that you’re going cock eyed trying to keep your vision of him clear, but his guard was rarely ever let down around you, and you didn’t want to miss a moment. 

His lips brush against yours, a pained, strangled sound coming from the back of his throat, before he’s diving in for that first mind melting kiss. 

Time stops for a moment, this fiery spark igniting between you both as fierce mouths move against one another, painfully desperate like it’s going to be over too soon, like if you stop it’ll never happen again. 

All inhibition is lost, Steve’s fingertips squeezing into the doughy flesh of your waist, somehow pushing you together even tighter, gripping you with a fierceness as your lips move together. Like he’s staking a claim — mine, mine, mine.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging for entry silently, which you allow him willingly with a high pitched, contented moan. He’s experimental, swiping the tip of his tongue against your own lightly, lapping until he’s pulling these little noises from you, and it has your core aching. 

The light smacking sounds of moistened lips in an otherwise void room is an almost painful reminder that this was real.

Your shaking fingertips move from the table to grip at the front of Steve’s jacket, desperate hands trying to rip at the material, because a simple kiss was never going to be enough. Now that you had him and knew he wanted you back.

“We can’t,” Steve whines, pitiful against your lips as you struggle to stop, chasing his mouth with your own in a feverish passion as he barely tries to pull back from you, “you keep making these noises, m’not gonna be able to stop.” 

You bring your hands up to cup Steve’s jaw on instinct, without even thinking about it, holding him in place so he can’t fight with himself to get away, “Want it, Steve. I want you,” you breathe, sincere and pleading, guiding him back to kiss you again and he melts into you, “wanted it since the first time you stepped foot in here. Wanted you to want me too.”

“Always fuckin’ wanted you,” Steve mumbles, those soft, fucking perfect lips brushing yours as he speaks, so desperate it’s like he can’t bare to move back any further, “you’re so beautiful, shit. Need you, can I have you?”

You nod without hesitation as Steve's hands tighten on your waist, intensifying the urgency between your bodies. The kiss deepens, a mix of desperation and desire, creating a raw, feral, and unmistakably intimate connection.

Steve's lips become a drug, setting off sparks within you, and the forbidden tension hangs heavy in the air. Breaking away, his admission of always wanting you fuels the flames, and his calloused fingertips trace over your flushed skin as he murmurs, "Wanna do that forever," he murmurs, taking a moment to lock eyes with you, before reconnecting your lips once more.

A desperate groan escapes Steve's chest, a tenor of pent-up emotion. His fingers dig into your waist and jaw, revealing the battle within him – wanting you intensely but also grappling with the fear of irreversible damage. 

Your desperation and passion counteracts his conflicted motions, hands tightly clinging to his jacket, expressing the longing and fire coursing through you. 

Steve's plea transforms into a primal growl as he pulls you closer, creating an animalistic admission of want and yearning, leaving not an inch of space between you, pressing you up so tightly against the table that your ass mounts it properly — you willingly spread your legs for him, allowing him entry so that he can slot between your thighs.

Whatever boundaries you were trying to keep are long gone.

“You’re soaking, baby,” Steve notes, the tip of his tongue swiping along your bottom lip, “you need to get out of these clothes.”

“You think you’re so smooth,” you giggle, the delicate sound pitching into a moan when Steve dips down to mouth at your jaw, “think I’m soaked in more ways than one.” 

Steve grunts against your skin, his teeth grazing against the side of your throat. He rocks his hips into your own, and you have to suppress an embarrassing sound when you feel the half hard outline of his cock press against you. 

“You gonna be a gentleman and take me to my room?” You tease, fingers traveling from Steve’s jacket and up into his hair, nails tangling in the tresses and tugging him closer. You relish in how he finally bites down on your skin properly, determined to mark you as his own.

“What if I wanna do it right here, huh?” Steve mutters, kissing over the raised, abused skin on your neck, “You want that, princess? 

You nod, just once, a deep heat pooling in your gut, and that’s enough to have Steve pulling desperately at your dress. Calloused fingertips slide the spaghetti straps down your shoulders, and you help him take you out of the offending material, shimmying until it pools at your feet.

Steve groans, low in the back of his throat as he takes in your body, now barely covered by a skimpy black thong and a lacy bra. You burn hot under his intense gaze, squealing when his large hands snake under the backs of your thighs, kneading the fat between his fingers as he hoists you back onto the table.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” Steve mumbles, massaging your thighs that you willingly spread open for him once again, a silent invitation.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, moaning when he drops to his knees in one fluid motion, wrapping your legs around his shoulders as he goes. 

One thing that is apparent, is Steve’s love of eye contact. Touching you everywhere his body can reach, and it drives you up the damn wall. His eyes are darkened with lust as he trails hot, wet kisses up the insides of your thighs, pushing your legs apart further so he can slot his broad shoulders in the space.

The anticipation bubbles deep in your gut, cunt fluttering as he dips two fingers into the material of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose you to the warm air. You feel him squeeze you tighter, gaze moving to take in the sight of your slick pussy, ready and waiting for him.

“Mmph, she’s so pretty,” Steve moans, leaning forward in an instant to bury his face into the wetness of your cunt, running his nose over the bump of your clit as his tongue snakes out to taste you, lapping messily. 

“Steve!” You gasp his name, fingers immediately finding home in his honey highlighted tresses, sinking in and tugging lightly, pushing him closer to you.

It spurs him on, those fucking hands squeezing and pulling at the flesh of your inner thighs hard enough to bruise, burying his face into you deeper and grunting like you’re the best thing he ever tasted. He’s messy, lapping up and down the expanse of your core, suckling on your clit with a perfect pressure. 

“Shit, shit,” you’re basically wailing, hips rolling into Steve’s face and he just takes it, lets you guide him with your hands, moving him where you want him to go. 

He never breaks eye contact, watches you with these hazy, pussy drunk eyes as he gives you everything you want and more. Moaning into the heat of your cunt like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

“Keep doing that, m’gonna cum, haa,” you’re babbling, incoherent as your tummy rolls with sheer pleasure, Steve never once letting up on his assault with his tongue.

If anything, your words have him doubling down, pressing in so far you’re not sure he’s even able to breathe. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, violently, has you pulling on Steve’s hair so hard you know his scalp has to be aching, and you finally squeeze your eyes shut tight as you ride it out.

You know you’re gushing for Steve, making a mess of his face with the slickness that spills from your cunt, thighs shaking and locking him in tight in the aftershocks. He doesn’t let up until you’re physically jerking away, fingers running through his hair softly as your hips shudder. 

You’re barely on the same planet, unable to comprehend it when Steve rises from between your legs and kisses you deeply, feeding the taste of yourself to you. You moan, hands coming up to squeeze Steve’s face as you deepen the kiss, swapping spit and rocking against each other. 

It’d be disgusting if it wasn’t so erotic.

“You’re so hot,” Steve moans, pushing into you until the curve of his clothed cock presses tight into the cavern of your soaked cunt, eliciting breathy whines from you both, “need you now, yeah?” 

You nod, and he’s pulling you from the table in an instant.

Clothes scatter along the floor as Steve takes you to the bedroom, practically carrying you like you’re nothing. Neither of you leave an inch of space between each other as you rip his shirt over his head, tugging at the offending leather belt that keeps his jeans in place.

“Off, need them off,” you gasp, finally popping the button and burying your hand into his underwear. Tackiness on your fingertips from where the head of his painfully hard cock has been pressed tightly in the confines of his clothes.

Steve chuckles, pushes his hips into your hand and you finally get to feel him. Hot, hard, heavy in your hand — big enough that your eyes widen, and he’s burying his face in your neck to hide his embarrassment, biting at your shoulder.

“Didn’t get called King Steve for nothing,” he mutters, a red flush on his cheeks that he buries in your skin. 

“The girls weren’t kidding.” you gasp, wrapping your hand around what you can reach and tugging slightly until he’s bucking into your grasp.

You’re pushed through your bedroom door, backs of your knees hitting the end of the bed unexpectedly. You bounce back onto it, pulling Steve with you, a tangle of limbs on an unmade bed that smells vaguely of the vanilla perfume you’d sprayed earlier. 

“Couldn’t let a guy get his pants off first?” Steve grins, pulling back and looking physically wounded as he does it, to shimmy out of the remainder of his clothing.

In the soft lighting, he looks ethereal. The moles and beauty marks are everywhere, branding perfectly tanned skin, a soft tummy that just barely conceals a set of abs. He’s perfect, like a wet dream, and here he is in your room, in your bed, crawling back between your spread thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” Steve sighs, leaning down once again to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his torso rolling into yours as he steals your breath from your lungs.

It’s everything. The way you move together like you know each other's bodies perfectly, touching each other with a familiarity despite this being the first time.

A hand crawls up your inner thigh, and two deft fingers sink into your cunt, crooking up and finding that spot, running against it until you’re arching under his touch.

Your own hand crawls between your dancing bodies, wrapping properly around the length of Steve’s cock, tugging half heartedly until he’s growling into your mouth, his hips punching forward into your touch.

Time passes like molasses, it could be two minutes or twenty, until you’re both gasping and desperate. Not even kissing anymore, just lightly panting with brushing lips. 

“Want it, want you to fuck me now.” You beg, clenching around Steve’s fingers for emphasis, cunt soaked and fluttering, needing more.

Steve nods, sliding his fingers from inside of you, understanding every word and desperate plea. He clasps your hand in his own, bringing them up to rest beside your head in the nest of pillows, “You ready, baby? I’ll take it slow, know I’m a stretch.” 

You nod, any witty remark dying in the back of your throat. The want and hunger for Steve overrides any other feeling, your brain fogged with nothing but him and his body tight against yours.

Steve grasps hold of his cock by the base, head bowing so he can watch as he presses the head snug against your cunt. 

You both inhale a shuddery breath at the same time, and suddenly he’s pushing in — inch by inch filling you out. You whimper, fingers digging into Steve’s, a mewl escaping you as you push up into his torso. 

Steve looks up at you, sincere and checking in, “You okay?” 

“Keep going,” you gasp, hips swiveling.

Steve’s mouth hangs open in a silent moan, watches as his cock slides into your wet pussy like it was made to be there, taking every last inch of him until he’s nestled up against you.

You jolt when the thick thatch of hair nestled at his pubic bone catches on your swollen, throbbing clit. A breathy, panting whine clawing up from your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, princess. Not gonna last long,” Steve admits pulling out a few inches only to slide right back in, making home, “god, like you were made to take me.” 

You flush at Steve’s words, “You can– you can move properly. Fuck me like you want.” 

“Don’t say that, princess.” Steve whines, fingers gripping your hips, “You let me have what I want and I’ll never let you leave.” 

Your heart beats faster, harder, whole body alight with all these different feelings, tugging at every part of you. 

Full on Steve’s cock and holding his fucking hand. It’s heavenly.

Steve pulls out properly this time, pushing back in and creating a punishing rhythm that has you mewling and spewing out these horribly loud moans and cries for him. The head of his cock nudges at your spot dead-on with each thrust, has you over-stimulated ridiculously fast, it teeters on the right side of painful.

Your fingers dig into Steve’s skin, other hand wrapping around his bicep. A moan escaping you as he dips down to kiss and nibble at your neck, “You’re so big, holy shit. Feels so good, so good.”

“Yeah?” Steve grins at you, cocky and sure of himself and you almost catch a glimpse of the old Steve in it, which somehow makes the entire thing even sexier. One thing Steve Harrington was so sure he was good at was fucking, and you feed into his ego with the way your body reacts to him. 

Sweaty skin slapping against skin, the creaking of your bed frame under the vigorous movements. The pants and cries that flow from your mouth with every hard thrust, the grunts that rattle from deep in Steve’s chest. It’s pure filth, everything you wanted and needed.

“Y-yeah, I— I—” You stutter as your orgasm crescendos, legs wrapping tightly around his waist, heels of your feet digging into the small of his back. Nails breaking skin on Steve’s arm as you shake and shudder through it, body practically vibrating with the sheer force of it. 

“You needed that huh, princess? Needed me to pull that from you?” Steve whispers, a moan leaving him as he fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm, “Fuckin’ gripping me, holy fuck.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, unable to stop how your cunt flutters sporadically for him, taking everything he gives you and then some.

“Holy shit, baby,” Steve breathes, fucked out and chest heaving, “m’gonna cum, gonna cum in your perfect little pussy.” 

“Please,” you beg, back arching and somehow pushing Steve in even deeper, eliciting matching moans of pleasure from you both, “please, please.”

“Shit – fuckin’ begging me to cum in you, you’re so perfect, shit.” He grunts, hips slamming into you as he nears the end, thrusts becoming short and snappy, rhythm faltering.

Your nails dig into Steve’s bicep, pushing your nose against his softly, ghosting a kiss over his lips, “Wanna feel you spilling in me, please? Mark me, I’m yours.” 

He moans loudly at your words, the noise so beautiful it’s like music in your ears. You’d almost be smug about being the person to pull it from him, if it weren’t for how fucked out he’d left you.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, pushing his face into your neck as his body wracks with his orgasm. He grunts into your damp skin, cock pulsing rhythmically inside the fluttering walls of your pussy.

You can feel it so fucking strongly it’s almost hard to breathe.

It’s sticky and messy as Steve untangles his sweaty limbs from your own, landing a gentle kiss on your nose. You flush hot, burning up at how ridiculously domesticated the simple motion is.

He pulls out sloppily, flopping down next to you on the bed and hauling you into his warm embrace. It’s — it’s unexpected, so soft and sweet that you tense for a second only to loosen up and settle your head on his chest.

The air is heavy and warm in the afterglow. Steve's gaze lingers on yours, a moment shared in silence, acknowledging your mutual feelings without a single word. 

You’re leaning up to kiss him again, unable to contain it, when suddenly the bubble is shattered, the bedroom door swinging open abruptly. 

Eddie stands in the doorway, his features screwed up with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Steve, what the hell?" Eddie's scratchy voice cuts through the stillness, his eyes narrowing as they dart between you and Steve. Steve bolts upright, panicked and caught off guard, shifting uncomfortably under Eddie's intense gaze.

"Eddie, I can explain," you begin, panic rising in your chest as you sit up and pull the sheets closer around you. The atmosphere suddenly becomes charged with tension, and Eddie's expression tightens further.

"Explain? Explain what, exactly?! That my best friend is in bed with my-my – dammit dude, she’s like a sister to me! What the hell?!" Eddie's tone is sharp, a mix of disbelief and fury. Steve runs a hand through his disheveled hair, clearly searching for words that could help calm the escalating situation.

"Eddie, it just happened. We didn't plan—" Steve starts, but Eddie interrupts with a held up ringed hand.

Neither of you push it any further, words dying in both of your throats at such a simple movement. You’re so far apart by now that Steve is basically hanging off the edge of the bed, and you can’t help the way your heart feels fucking heavy with it.

"I don't care. This is not okay. I told you not to touch her, Steve. She’s not a girl to play with." Eddie's disappointment is palpable, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

The room is filled with a devastating silence, broken only by echoes of Eddie's anger and the heavy weight of his boots shuffling along the hard floor as he walks away. The trailer door slams shut so hard that the entire shell ricochets with the force. 

It all becomes so painful once Steve hauls himself off of the bed, frantically throwing on every strewn article of clothing that he’d shed just hours earlier, his head bowed like he can’t even bear to look at you. Like he’s scared and doesn’t want to face up to everything that happened.

You can’t even blame him. 

“Steve, wait,” you start, vision blurring at the edges as panic starts to set in, grappling to come to terms with the fact this was all going to be over, “don’t listen to him. He’s wrong, I know you – you don’t. You don’t do that anymore, you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“No he – he’s right,” Steve’s eyes reflect with sadness, the weight of his words lying deep in the pit of your stomach, “I have a reputation. We all know that. He’s trying to protect you, his heart is in the right place.” 

“But Steve-” 

“Eddie’s right, princess. There’s something there, I know it. But,” Steve sighs, shaking his head, “if this doesn’t work out I lose you and him. I can’t risk not having you both.” 

“Steve, will you listen to me, please?” You plead, clambering in a moment of panic to get off of the bed, sheet still wrapped firmly around your naked frame. You shuffle over ungracefully, until you’re standing toe to toe with him, “I like you. You felt it like I felt it. I– I want this.” 

You can almost see Steve’s internal struggle, the way his face crumples once he catches your teary eyes with his own devastated hues. His hands itch at his sides, and then suddenly those strong arms are wrapping around you, pulling you into his orbit and lifting you onto your tiptoes.

You wrap your arms around his middle, fingers grasping at the stretched material of his shirt, clinging on for dear life, "Steve, I really fucking like you, and I can't stand by and watch you walk away from this because of some misplaced sense of loyalty.” 

Steve’s chin rests atop your head, and you feel every bit of the deep sigh he lets out, “You trust me too much, like you know I’m not going to fuck up. I wish I could trust myself even half as much.”

Your reaction is immediate, frustration bubbling up inside of you as you listen to Steve talk down on himself, “You’ll never hurt me. You’re not some ticking time bomb just waiting to ruin everything. Allow yourself the courtesy of taking what you want and letting yourself fuck up. I’m strong enough to handle it.”

“I’ve messed up so many times in the past that I’m scared I’ll hurt you without meaning to,” Steve winces, clinging to you even tighter, cocooning you in his embrace, “I couldn’t live with myself if I did that shit.” 

You pull away slightly, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw, forcing him to face you and really soak in every word you say, “You’re fucking human, Steve. I’m not asking you to be perfect.”

Steve’s face etches with vulnerability, those damned eyes filled with hurt, but his body relaxes slightly, acknowledging what you’re trying to say, “You’re perfect.” 

Your stomach lurches, heart hammering where it sits beneath your ribcage, this pathetic grin taking over, “I promise you, I’m not. Wait until you realize just how many flaws I have — like being so terrible at cooking that I burn toast.”

Steve lets out a snort, eyes crinkling in the corners, fondness washing over him, “I’ll teach you,” he mumbles, leaning in a little, “if you’ll teach me something in return.” 

“Anything.” You breathe, pushing up to bridge the gap. Your noses brush, Steve’s hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your waist a little firmer.

Steve grins, mischievous, “Teach me how to have patience. I’ve been told it’s a virtue I’m seriously lacking, Dustin rags on me all the time about it.”

You let out a soft laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating in an instant, "Patience it is, though I’m not sure how much of it I even have. And you better be ready for some burnt toast along the way."

Steve chuckles, a low, melodic sound that sends shivers down your spine, "I think I can handle that."

He bridges the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours and sealing the agreement.

[theambitiouswoman]

Ways to Cultivate Self-Love

Practice self-compassion: Treat yourself with kindness and understanding, just as you would someone you love.

Practice self-care: Prioritize your physical, emotional, and mental well-being. Take time for relaxation, get enough sleep, eat nutritious food, exercise, and pursuing hobbies or activities that make you happy.

Set healthy boundaries: Assert your needs, desires, and limits. Establish clear boundaries in your relationships and communicate them assertively. Saying no when necessary and honoring your boundaries helps protect your well-being.

Practice mindfulness: Be present in the current moment and non-judgmentally observe your thoughts and emotions. Mindfulness can help you develop self-awareness, reduce stress, and cultivate a deeper understanding of yourself.

Challenge self-limiting beliefs: Challenge negative thoughts and self-beliefs that hold you back from self-love and personal growth. Replace them with positive and empowering affirmations.

Surround yourself with positivity: Surround yourself with people who uplift and support you. Minimize contact with those who bring negativity or undermine your self-esteem.

Practice gratitude: Regularly express gratitude for the positive aspects of your life, as well as your own strengths and achievements. Keeping a gratitude journal can help shift your focus toward self-appreciation and increase your overall sense of well-being.

Celebrate your wins: Celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small they may seem. Recognize your efforts, progress, and achievements, and take pride in them. Doing this reinforces a positive self-image and boosts self-confidence.

Practice self-acceptance: Embrace and accept yourself fully, including your flaws, imperfections, and past mistakes. Realize that no one is perfect, and that self-love involves accepting and embracing your whole self, including both your strengths and areas for growth.

Focus on self-care rituals: Engage in regular self-care rituals that make you feel nurtured and valued. Take long baths, practice yoga or meditation, journaling, creative activities, or spending time in nature. Find what activities make you happy and make them a priority.

Embrace self-expression: Explore ways to express yourself authentically. This could be, engaging in creative activities like art, writing, music, or dance.

Practice forgiveness: Forgive yourself for past mistakes and let go of any self-blame or guilt that may be holding you back. Making mistakes is a part of being human, use these experiences as opportunities for growth and learning.

Celebrate self-care milestones: Celebrate the progress you make in your self-love journey. Set small achievable goals for self-improvement and celebrate when you reach them. This helps build self-confidence.

Surround yourself with positive influences: Surround yourself with people who inspire and uplift you. Invest in relationships that support your growth, well-being, and self-love. Distance yourself from individuals or environments that consistently bring you down or undermine your self-worth.

Practice self-empowerment: Take control of your life and make choices that align with your values, desires, and aspirations. Set goals and take steps towards achieving them.

Engage in self-reflection: Reflect on your thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. Incorporate journaling, meditation or mindfulness exercises. Self-reflection helps you gain insight into yourself, your patterns, and your needs, enabling you to make intentional choices aligned with self-love.

Be your own advocate: Stand up for yourself and your needs. Speak up assertively when you feel disrespected or when your boundaries are crossed. Express your opinions, asserting your rights, and asking for what you need in various areas of your life.

[thefudge]

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters the most. you can persuade us of anything. but you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

[tarotwithavi]

Random messages for you from your future lover/future spouse

18+ messages in some piles

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.

These pictures belong to their rightful owners.

Masterlist

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Pile 1

"I want to bite your neck and leave my mark there"

"I love the way you walk"

"you look absolutely gorgeous from behind"

"God really took his sweet time creating the masterpiece in front of me"

"I want to worship every part of your body"

"all the lonely nights were worth waiting for you"

"In your arms, I have found my home."

"With you, love is not just a destination but a beautiful journey"

"I will buy you every book you like, but there's a price you must pay"

"In a world of billions, you're the only that makes time stand still"

"The darkness inside me is really to consume you, however I am scared of the consequences"

"If you had any idea about what I want to do to you, you wouldn't be standing here challenging me"

"I want to know everything about you, your likes, dislikes, what makes you happy, what makes you sad, every fucking thing"

"Your whispered desires set my soul on fire"

Pile 2

"You think you can run away from me love?"

"I crave you, I desire you, I want you. In. every. way."

"I love the way you look right now. You don't need to change anything"

"You're flawless. People who find flaws in you are blind"

"tie your hair up. Show me your neck"

"Your presence lights up my darkest night"

"You can literally sell me poison and I will buy that in gallons from you"

"Your acne scars correspond to the craters on the moon. They make you even more beautiful to me"

"You look so f-able in my hoodie"

"You can be my black cat and I can be your golden retriever"

"I will never force my beliefs on you"

"You look magical in that dress"

"I don't want other guys to be close to you, to touch you, I know it's selfish but it's something I can't help but feel. You make you go crazy over you"

"You're like a Siren, alluring me with your voice, enchanting me with your appearance and making me want to do things that are not so pure"

Pile 3

"You are so pure so innocent. I feel like I will taint you with my darkness"

"Some things are better as secrets"

"Do. Not. Provoke Me. You'll not be able to handle it"

"I am not that type of person who dreams of getting married on the first date. But something about makes me feel I should wife you up, like right now.

"I want to see a mini you or/and mini merunning around in our house"

"Do you mind if I ruin your lipstick right now?"

"can you see hearts floating around above my head? No? *Gets heart shaped balloons from God knows where, puts them above their head* Can you see them now?

"With you, even the simplest moments become cherished memories"

"I crave the taste of your lips and the touch of your skin, you are my sweetest addiction"

"With you, time flies by like a shooting star, leaving behind a trail of cherished memories"

"Don't leave me. I have loved you too much to be separated from you.

"You make flowers bloom in my heart just from the thought of you"

Pile 4

"I will work hard for you. I will work hard for us"

"To be honest I will let you step on me"

"Our future is so bright together mama"

"In your arms, time loses its meaning, and all that matters is our love."

"How long do you want me to wait for you? 1 month? 6 months? 1 year? 5 years? A decade? I will wait for you if it means that I can be with you even for a minute"

"I will never judge you for your past. We all make mistakes and it's fine. As long as you don't repeat the same mistake"

"You feel like chopping off your hair? Go ahead, do it. I bet on my left nut you will look good in every hairstyle"

"What makes you think that I wouldn't eat your snacks? Am I not human? Or Do I not have taste buds"

"In the heat of our passion, time fades away, leaving only the intoxicating blend of our souls"

"Your touch ignites a fire within me, and I crave the taste of your lips on mine"

"Baby I am preying on you tonight, hunt you down, eat you alive"

[your-nanas-house]

Really, the last time?

◇ Pairing: student!Tom Riddle X professor fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dubcon, somnophilia at first, adult x adult, kissing, blowjob, Tom Riddle

◇ Summary: Miss Y/l/n finds herself pleasuring her student for the third time.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Part 3 of The Beginning. Here the part 2

The cool night air continued to blow in through the open window of Miss Y/l/n's bedroom, the sky was cloudy and a drizzle was threatening to come in but the difference in temperature that the teacher felt on her skin was pleasant and calming— calming enough to put her into a deep but peaceful sleep.

Her smooth, feminine body laid on the soft mattress, a blanket lightly over her exposed thighs and in her arms while the rest was loosely covered by her lace nightgown and her noticable tiny underwear— which obviously matched her clothes.

It was probably part of a set. A set that Tom Riddle really liked, especially on his DADA professor.

Her chest continued to rise and fall, her breaths as calm as the atmosphere in that room— despite the intrusive presence of one of her students, who was standing in the darkness right next to the still magically lit fire of the stove.

His gaze was intense and dark, almost as calculating as his long, silent steps— Tom Riddle knew what to do and why he was there, he knew the inappropriateness of his actions but he didn't care at all.

The young adult craved his teacher's body, he had reached an almost physical need to receive her attention and feel her body against his.

Reason because he was there, standing over her limp body, his gaze studying everything she was unconsciously gifting him during that dark british night.

Tom stared for a few minutes before reacting, using his wand to slowly move Miss Y/l/n's sleeping body, removing the blanket with his pale long fingers as he slowly climbed onto the bed to get closer.

His breath got heavier when his hands started to stroke her smooth legs, starting from her ankles— he crawled between them slowly while his touch became more intense.

His fingertips slowly traced the length of her exposed legs as he brushed his nose against her warm skin, stopping a couple of seconds more against her inner thighs as soon as Miss Y/l/n moved slightly in her sleep.

After making sure that she wasn't waking up he continued his journey, pressing his nose against her clothed cunt to take a long sniff of her sex, earning a soft whine from her when his nose brushed against her clit— he wanted more, he really wanted to explore that part of her, feel that warm and wet feeling that his fellow Slytherins kept describing.

Not that night though, he was there for other reasons and he was going to fulfill his own needs before going back to his own room.

Tom moved further, opening slowly her nightgown, starting from the last button, exposing that way her lower tummy and slowly her round swollen breasts.

His gaze darkened as soon as he laid his eyes back on her tits, he studied their movements and how her nipples became hard in a couple of seconds because of the cold soft wind that hit them.

It was tempting and very arousing for the young man, he was already trying to keep his hips from grinding against her stomach— intrusive thoughts kept telling him to wrap his lips around one of them and suck at if like there wasn't a tomorrow.

So he did, he leaned down with his rosy lips slightly apart, stopping just when her right nipple was inside of them— he wrapped his lips around it, after licking them slowly and starts to suck almost like an infant. His hands went carefully to his pants and worked quickly on his buttons to free his painful hard cock, before using a spell to lubricate his left hand and started to tease himself without stopping to suck.

Miss Y/l/n kept letting out soft noises of pleasure, arching her back more into him before finally waking up, her hand in Tom's hair to press his face more against her right breast— her breath was quick and her face flushed, she should have pushed her own student away from her vulnerable body but she didn't.

She arched her back more, moaning his name softly, waiting till he moved to her other nipple as well to push him away from her chest; Tom didn't understand at first, he thought that she was trying to make him leave or just protest since his action where really unprofessional.

That didn't happened, Miss Y/l/n just bit her bottom lip as she pushed her breasts together, looking at him in an inviting way, letting him know that he could move closer so that she could adjust Tom's position and make his cock slip between her round boobs.

The sensation was new but still welcomed, Tom replaced her hands with his, holding and squeezing her chest together as he pleased while he moved his hips in a quick pace, fucking her breasts roughly— her tongue kept licking his tip every time she could reach it, tasting his precum, and her hands went in her lacy underwear to play with herself while her star student used her for his own pleasure.

It was messy and Tom's first time, his movements where sloppy but precise, his grip was tight and rough while his breath became heavier as the time passed.

His climax approached in a fast way when Miss Y/l/n placed her free hand at the base of his cock, lowering it just to play with his heavy, full balls— her mouth now wrapped around his tip, sucking it and accepting all his load as soon as the peak hit Tom like a train.

She came too, just by playing with her wet pussy and suck his cock dry, before letting go of him, allowing Tom to slowly lower his body breathless.

His body limp and exausted against hers, his forehead now resting on hers like his soft cock rested against her lower abdomen— their lips brushed against each other and he almost dive for a sloppy french kiss before disappearing in the dark and leave her alone in her room.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part VIII

Hey! Sorry for the wait on this one, it’s a big one and took me longer than I anticipated! I haven’t had the chance to properly proofread so sorry for any mistakes! Hope you enjoy all the same 💕

Summary: Forced to go on the road with her father, Reader gets a rude awakening that starts to play on her mind. But Azriel’s not willing to let go so easily.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: Pretty gruesome descriptions of violence and injury. Masturbation. Nsfw, 18+, minors dni!

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The curtains were drawn.

To superior fae sight, nothing lay behind them besides darkness. Not even the flickering of a candle.

Azriel waited. And waited, and waited. His eyes did not once stray from the window, and hope burned fierce in him that those curtains would suddenly part, that a beautiful human face would appear that made his heart race and his skin feel too taut on his bones.

The fabric didn’t even twitch.

He knew, after a couple of hours, that he would not be seeing his Bluebird tonight. He tried not to feel too disappointed as he flew back towards the wall, the comfort of the fae realm. Such was the nature of their…relationship. It was clandestine and risky, and sometimes things would come up. Sometimes, one or both of them would be unavailable.

But as he stripped off his leathers and fell into his huge bed, he couldn’t tear his thoughts from her. Thoughts of where she was, what she was doing, what had rendered her unavailable to meet — whether she was safe.

Too many thoughts like that would do him no good. Would only worsen this…this alien sensation, of needing her with him all the time. Needing to have her in sight. Needing to have her at all.

He could only pray to the Mother that the next week pedalled on fast.

That he’d see his Bluebird soon.

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It had been the most uncomfortable day of your life.

A monotonous day on horseback, one landscape blurring into another. The village you were travelling to seemed like worlds away — and the journey was only made worse by the sticky summer heat, and the fact that you rode with Devin, slotted between the tight press of his muscled thighs.

Still, you were unflinching in your resolve that while you may not have been able to wriggle out of sharing a horse with him, you weren’t going to talk to him, no matter how much he tried to ply you with conversation.

It was his fault you had to come on this trip in the first damn place.

You tried your hardest to while away the time by sinking into your thoughts. It seemed that with each hour that passed, those thoughts became more vibrant, more longing. Thoughts of you, Azriel, a wildflower meadow. The ability to just…be in each other’s arms.

The ability to kiss him. Touch him.

Those thoughts didn’t help at all. It was an effort to keep them at bay, lest you make the ride even more uncomfortable.

But eventually — thankfully — you and your father’s group had arrived in the target village, just as the sun had been setting. News of your father’s cause had spread wide enough that it seemed his presence was expected. And very much welcomed.

You’d been ushered into the village tavern and supplied with more food and drinks than any of you needed. The feast kept you occupied while your father was absent awhile, apparently visiting a few villagers he was familiar with. And when he’d returned, it was there, that evening, nestled at the very back of the old, crumbling building, that you’d watched your his passionate presentation.

You’d heard the words spoken numerous times, of course. To his friends, and to anyone at the Bluebird Inn who would listen. But this was more than just a speech. This was an entire damn performance.

And it surprised you, how uncomfortable it made you to watch.

For all your father was quiet, brooding, sometimes soft-spoken, he commanded the tavern with a voice louder than you’d ever heard come out of him. His cheeks had grown ruddier as his own words riled him up. Spittle accompanied the angered, venomous words that left his mouth.

And it was all you could do to watch, your dinner feeling leaden in your stomach as you listened to the words — listened to him reel off a list of people he, personally, had met, who had suffered at the hands of the fae. As he told the story of your mother’s brutal death, and the details formed a lump in your throat, never lessening in impact. As he presented his ideas, his plans, in a way that was so refined, so expert, that it almost had you considering that they were the best course of action.

But you knew Azriel. You knew Azriel. These faeries that your father raged about were not his brethren. Azriel himself would abhor their actions.

You repeated that to yourself in your head, like a chant. Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

Two whole hours, you had to sit there and listen to your father talk about frightening creatures who stole babies from their bassinets, who brutalised young girls, who tore families apart. Two whole hours, and your muscles were stiff and aching. Your head throbbing. Your body and mind desperate for the oblivion of sleep. A respite away from the pang in your gut.

Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

The sight of your father and his men traipsing around the room with rolls of parchment and gathering signatures was a relief — only because you knew this would soon be over.

You sighed softly to yourself, slumping back in your chair and absentmindedly rubbing a hand over your stomach. As though it would somehow ease the complicated feelings that twisted it so violently.

“Impactful.” The chair beside you was pulled out, and Devin lowered himself into it. “Don’t you think?”

You gave the slightest dip of your chin. Couldn’t deny that your father had a way with words.

Devin pursed his lips, his eyes skating over you. “We have a long ride home, Y/N. Are you going to ignore me the whole way back, too?”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Because you had no right to talk to my father on my behalf.”

He folded his arms, appearing unflinching and unbothered by what he’d done. You may have thought he was in the wrong, but he certainly didn’t.

“I did so out of concern for you,” he replied. “Because what you said about the fae was wrong. None of them are good. The sooner you see that, the better.”

You bit inside of your cheek, simply to prevent yourself from arguing. But gods, you wanted to contest the statement. You wished you could tell him that you had cold, hard, beautiful evidence that he was wrong.

But doing so would only make things worse for you.

So you merely folded your own arms, and focused your gaze on the men weaving in and out of tables, gathering signatures, clapping supporters on the back and parting with well wishes. You stared and stared until the sight of them blurred.

And then Devin said, “You haven’t been yourself recently.”

You whipped your head around to look at him — gape at him. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know you were acting shifty as fuck the night I came to check on you during the Summer Festival. You couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. I’d be forgiven for thinking you had someone there with you.”

“Who would I possibly have at my house?” you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not allowed to make friends, to form connections.”

His gaze softened. “I’m your friend.”

It wasn’t that long ago that you’d fantasised about him being more than that. He’d seemed so incredible, so gallant — a young man who could sweep you off your feet, and protect you while he guarded an entire village. You’d wondered if there was ever any likelihood of him being drawn to you, instead of one of the many other beautiful girls within proximity. You’d wanted to impress him.

Now, you just wanted him out of your fucking sight before you said something that would land you in more shit.

“You—”

The tavern’s front door flung open, hard enough to slam against the wall, abruptly severing your sentence.

All fell still and silent as every face looked up to take in the man who entered. Hair ripped from the knot at the back of his neck, and he was drenched in sweat, clothes rumpled and—

And saturated with blood.

There was a beat, and then everyone who crowded the small space appeared to collectively clock what they were seeing. A wave of gasps rippled through the room like a breeze.

“I—” the man’s eyes immediately landed on your father, as though it were him he searched for. “I tried to do something, but I was too late. I couldn’t—”

“What has happened?” Your father strode forward.

“I was too late,” he repeated. “I…I think you need to see this.”

Just like that, every member of your group was readying themselves to leave — to throw themselves straight into the unknown. Devin, too, rose.

But your father was wrenching round to face them, shaking his head. “I’ll take only a couple of you with me. The rest of you should stay here until I send word,” he angled himself towards your table. “Devin, Y/N — you’ll join me.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened. Granted, you didn’t know what, exactly, you’d be facing, but one look at the blood-drenched man at the entrance told you it was bad. You didn’t know nearly enough about fighting, or defending, or healing—

“Yes.” Your father’s tone brooked no room for argument. “You.”

There was no chance to protest as you were yanked out of your seat by Devin and pulled along with him while your father headed out of the door. Your heart raced in your chest as Devin helped you up onto his horse, and you were lurched into action.

All you could think was that you wished — so badly wished — to be back in the safety of the Bluebird Inn. And Azriel’s arms.

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You didn’t travel far. A few dirty, dusty roads brought you straight to a house that was mostly unassuming, no different to the houses in your village.

But the similarities stopped at the first scream that ripped through the night and had you violently flinching, had the horses panicking.

Devin dismounted with ease and promptly lifted you off, setting you on your feet at the exact same moment another scream sounded, thinning out into a strangled sob.

“Come.” Your father beckoned to you as Devin made quick work of tying the horses up.

But you couldn’t get your feet to move. You stayed firmly rooted to the spot as you shook your head. “I can’t go in there.”

“You can and you will,” he beckoned again. “Don’t let me down.”

With him in front of you and Devin now at your back, you felt you had no choice but to follow. The man that had burst into the tavern held the front door open, increasing the volume of what now seemed to be wailing sobs.

“I’ve heard of your cause,” he said quietly as your father stepped in first. “Which is why I think you should see this. So you can report back firsthand to the Queens.”

The entryway was just light enough to catch the incline of your father’s head. He said nothing as you were led through—

You stopped dead in the doorway of what seemed to be a dining room. So abruptly that Devin’s front collided with your back.

“Her name is — was — Dahlia.” The man inched towards the table, balling his fists at his sides. “She was only fourteen years old.”

“What happened?” Those two little words came from you — and you didn’t even realise it.

Because lying motionless on the table was the body of a young girl — from what you could make out beneath the injuries that covered her skin, anyway.

Her pallor was such a deathly white that you knew she was long gone. Her clothes were dirty, ripped…by what looked like claws. Chunks of flesh had been gouged out, her throat cut—

Your ears were ringing too loudly for you to think. But as your heart beat at a gallop, another cry rent the air, stealing your attention to the corner of the room.

“This is Marin,” the man breathed, moving closer to the woman who sat curled up and distraught in the corner. “Dahlia’s mother. She saw the attack with her own eyes.”

“Oh, gods,” you whispered. Devin’s hand landed on your shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

Your father took slow, careful footsteps towards the grieving mother. And the softness with which he knelt before her, laying a tentative hand atop of hers…it had your eyes stinging.

“My name is Marschal,” he introduced himself quietly. “I’m so sorry for what those monsters have taken from you. Your beautiful daughter is safe in the Beyond now. The fae can hurt her no more.”

Another soft cry shuddered out of Marin. But she nodded her head and answered, her voice watery, “I know who you are. What…what you do.”

“Then you’ll know why I’ve been brought here. What happened…it’s something I believe our queens should know about,” he paused. “If you’re able, I’d like to know exactly what it was you witnessed. As much as you can manage, of course.”

The request almost made you flinch. It seemed callous, somehow, when her child’s body was still right there on the table and hadn’t yet been sent back to the earth. But after a beat of Marin staring at your father through her tear-filled eyes, she offered the slightest dip of her chin.

“I…” Her voice wobbled. “I’ll try.”

“Devin,” your father murmured over his shoulder. “Fetch her a drink to steady her nerves.”

You were jostled ever so slightly forward as Devin slipped past you — too close to Dahlia’s poor, broken body than you could handle. You turned away, your feet numbly carrying you to Marin’s side. You took her hand into your own, and she didn’t object to the comfort.

In fact, her voice was a little steadier as she said, “It was just me and my Dahlia.” She inhaled slowly through her nose, steeling herself. Her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest second before they opened again. “We were returning home from visiting my sister in another village. It was such a nice night that we decided not to spend coin on transport. The walk was a bit lengthy, but we’d made it before. We knew which way to go.”

The story was momentarily interrupted by Devin re-entering the room and handing a glass of amber liquid to Marin. Her free hand trembled as she took it and lifted it to her lips. Beads of dark liquid coloured her pale lips as she swallowed it down and continued.

“Only, Dahlia insisted on cutting through a forest to look at some plants,” she whispered. “She’s into botany, you see — she was into botany.” A fresh wave of shuddering sobs threatened to overpower her, but somehow, she found the strength to tamp down on them. “So we went into the forest, but Dahlia, she…she had a habit of wandering off, and I got separated from her. It wasn’t for long. But when I found her again, she was with a man.”

Your father repeatedly softly, “A man?”

“I knew at once that it was a faerie. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And Dahlia thought so, too. He was talking to her, and she had this glazed look in her eyes like she was somewhere else. He offered her his hand, and she took it. I knew in my bones that he was going to take her away from me, so I stepped forward, announced myself. I told Dahlia to come, that we were going home. The man answered for her in a voice like music.”

“What did he say?” you rasped.

“He said — he said that Dahlia would make a pretty wife for a faerie. That faerie men liked human brides. He said that she was coming back with him, across the wall. He asked her if she wanted to do that, and she said yes. I think he had her under some sort of spell. I could tell that it wasn’t my Dahlia talking. And I panicked. I stepped forward to grab her out of his arms, and he attacked. Immediately. It was all so quick, I couldn’t register what he was doing. But then he was disappearing before my eyes, and Dahlia was crumpling to the floor, and I knew…I could see she was gone.”

A keening, horrendous wail left her, and she was curling herself up so tightly — like she was trying to hold herself together. It was all you could do to grip onto her hand as she rocked back and forth and cried over and over and over, my Dahlia, my Dahlia, my Dahlia.

You waited for your father to say something else — to come up with an answer as to what might ease her suffering, if anything at all could.

But it was Devin who lowered himself to one knee before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his face gentle, open.

“Madam, the last thing I wish to do is cause you any more distress at such an awful time.” He spoke in the calm, sure way that all village guards did. “But I am a guard of the village from which my companions and I hail. Our girls have been suffering attacks at the hands of the fae, also. If, perhaps, you could describe the faerie you saw…who hurt your child…”

“He was beautiful, as I said,” Marin snivelled. “So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him. Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. That beauty made him easy for Dahlia to trust. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.”

“Their beauty,” your father supplied sympathetically, “is a calculated part of their thrall. Do not blame yourself nor your daughter for being allured by it. The fae know what they are doing.”

You did not hear whether the reassurance brought Marin any comfort. You didn’t catch what Devin then said to her, despite you looking right at him, watching his lips move.

Your mind was roaring, ears screaming. You felt…panic.

Their beauty is a calculated part of their thrall.

The fae know what they are doing.

So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him.

Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.

Faerie men like human brides.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

Was it so easy to be lured by the mere beauty of the fae?

Was that what Azriel had done to you?

Dahlia’s attacker had seemed nice to her…just as Azriel seemed nice to you.

And Dahlia was now lying lifeless and brutalised just inches away. Allured by a beautiful faerie. Like the other village girls. Like your mother. Like you—

You launched up, nausea turning your stomach. This was too much. If all fae were the same…if all of them were capable of this…

“What is it?” Devin asked. Your father didn’t speak; merely stared at you with an indiscernible expression.

“I need some fresh air, I’m sorry.” Feeling as though you were gasping for breath, you pushed through them, stumbled clumsily past Dahlia’s body and out of the room before they could stop you. You focused on forcing your legs forward, finding your way out of the house. Balmy summer air coaxed you towards it and had you practically falling out of the door.

What had you been thinking, having regular, secret meetings with a faerie who could tear you apart with his bare hands? Inviting him into your village, your home? Allowing yourself to think that he was somehow different? Finding ways to justify your involvement with him?

Azriel may not have been responsible for the attacks himself, but his kind were. You didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he was capable of. For all you were aware, your warming to him had been carefully manipulated by him, by magic. For all you were aware, he could have an extensive list of human girls that he’d softened and lured. He could be using you for something.

You didn’t want to think about what. Didn’t want to know.

What you did know was that you couldn’t see him anymore. Dahlia was some sort of sign that your dealings with the fae had to stop. What you had with Azriel needed to stop—

“It hits a little close to home, doesn’t it?” Your father’s soft voice reached you from the doorway. Amidst your reeling thoughts, you hadn’t heard him follow you out.

You sucked in a huge gulp of fresh air and pivoted to face him. “It does,” you agreed. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you by running out of there.”

He shook his head, took a step closer. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I felt it was necessary for you to see just what a single faerie was capable of. That doesn’t mean I expect you to be unfeeling and unaffected. That sight in there is…it’s terrifying. And gods, if it were you lying on that table—” he cut himself off, swallowing hard. It was a rare thing for him to share such sentiments with you. That was as close as he’d allow himself to get.

So you nodded, letting him know that you got it. He was terrified of you meeting the same fate that poor Dahlia had.

The moment hung between you, thick as the sticky night air. And then you were taking the plunge and asking the question that lived somewhere deep and heavy inside you, trying to claw its way out.

“Was it like that when Mama was attacked?” you studied your father, waiting for him to flinch, grimace, something. “When she was attacked by a faerie, did she…did she look much like Dahlia does?”

A gruesome question, and perhaps an unfair one.

But for the first time in your life, you needed to know — the gory details. How bad it had been.

Your father pursed his lips, staring back at you. For a moment, you thought he might not answer.

But then he shook his head. Shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked…vulnerable.

“No,” he answered, his voice laced with something you couldn’t grasp. “No. There was far less left of your mother after her attack. Nothing of the woman I had loved.”

Before you could answer, he turned and trudged back inside.

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Three weeks in a row.

Three weeks in a damn row, the curtains had remained shut at Y/N’s bedroom window.

Azriel thought his need to see her was starting to eat him alive.

But gods, he missed her. He missed her curiosity, that she did not seem to fear him. Missed that he could lose hours talking to her about everything and nothing. Missed her scent, the taste and feel of her lips—

He heaved a sigh, sprawling back in his bed and running a hand over the panes of his bare stomach. His blood thudded and thrummed in his veins. Burned too hot.

He knew, at least, that she was well, only from the rare glances he caught of her from the sky above the village. Seeing her and not being able to swoop down and speak to her was a whole torture of its own. But if the curtains were closed, that meant it wasn’t safe. The last thing he wanted was to get her into trouble.

Still, that didn’t stop his bones from feeling too hot with need, his heart too heavy—

Another quiet sight escaped him, the pads of his fingers stroking absentmindedly over his abdomen. It felt entirely out his control that his thoughts quickly ventured down the same avenue they’d been walking for three weeks, now. Yet again recalling that conversation he and Y/N had had when he’d last been with her. The broadened confidence that had lain within her actions.

She’d asked him about lovers. She’d kissed him deeply, yearningly, and had he not stopped her, she would have taken it further. He knew she would have — knew it from the way her scent had changed.

Gods, that scent. He was sure it had followed him everywhere these past weeks. It would drive him mad yet. The scent of fresh summer air and sweet, ripe apples. It was perfect, and mouthwatering, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel wanted more. A touch. A taste—

A low noise rumbled in his chest as his cock instantly hardened. This was why it was best to keep his mind occupied. Because as time went on, so too did his growing, strengthening, snowballing attraction for the human woman.

She was likely unaware of what affect she truly had on him.

With only the covers draped over his naked body, the light brush of the fabric against his hardened length was too much. He kicked them away, glancing down at his body’s reaction to the mere thought of Y/N. Nothing to do with him not having had sex for a while now.

All to do with the fact that he wanted Y/N. Badly.

He wrapped a hand around his cock, releasing a hushed moan at the touch. And as his thumb mopped up the precum at the head, and he began to pump slowly, languidly, he closed his eyes and imagined it was her hand that touched him.

That mental image threw the unhurried pace straight out of the window. Fantasies swarmed him as he writhed on the mattress and bit down on his husky, growling moans. Thoughts of Y/N stroking and squeezing and licking him, of her guiding him through his pleasure with filthy words and promises. Watching his length disappear between those perfect, full lips—

A shout shuddered out of him that he was too slow to suppress, his chest heaving as he emptied his cock onto his stomach. The pleasure was too much. He couldn’t think around it, couldn’t see anything but the stars that burst in his vision.

He didn’t know when he’d last cum so fast, so hard.

But somehow, he did know that no other woman, female, whatever, would ever be enough again. Only Y/N. He wanted Y/N.

He needed to find a way to see her.

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Resolving to have nothing more to do with Azriel did not, unfortunately, banish thoughts of him. Nor did it banish the feeling of missing him, missing what you’d grown comfortable with.

It was hard to go from looking forward to weekly rendezvous to just…nothing. No social interaction, besides what you got from behind the bar of the inn. No personal connections.

It was for the best, you told yourself. In the three weeks since you’d been on the road with your father and his men, those images of Dahlia’s broken body had not left your mind. They haunted you as thoroughly as the sounds of Marin’s cries and wails. As thoroughly as those words she’d spoken.

The most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Azriel was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And while he may not have been responsible for Dahlia’s attack, or the attacks on the girls in your village…that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable.

The fae were a violent people. There was no getting around that. And you…you could not take that risk. No matter how much your heart yearned to do so, just to feel the touch of Azriel’s hands and hear the smooth lilt of his voice.

He was fae. You were human. It could never work.

So you kept your curtains closed, and you kept yourself busy. You knew Azriel must have wondered what was going on, why you’d been unavailable three weeks in a row. Soon enough, you told yourself, he was bound to get bored and seek connection with somebody else, and your brief brush with the fae would become a bizarre, distant memory.

You hoped.

Perhaps if you chanted it to yourself enough, it would come true.

But gods, you’d become so comfortable with him. Had found what felt like a real, genuine bond with somebody, like nothing you’d been able to experience before. It was no easy thing to return to loneliness, just you and the inn and your piano. Everything was suddenly too dull, too quiet.

At least your father hadn’t asked you to come on the road with him again.

His trips were getting longer, the further he ventured. Two days had stretched to four. You were more alone than ever.

Tonight, when the last of your customers had filed through the door, you were not in the mood to play piano, nor to read a book. Your frame of mind was a tricky one. You felt…restless and misplaced. Tired in your bones and yet wide awake and longing.

You tossed and you turned, kicking your sheets, writhing against your mattress until you were sticky with sweat. You wanted to pull back the curtains and wrench open the window, but…not at this hour. Not while Azriel might still be circling above, searching to see if you were available.

So in the dark, you let the hours tick by, waited for sleep to find you or…some semblance of peace. You listened to each chime of the village’s clock tower, making you aware of every hour you’d lain awake; one o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock. No passing time made a difference. Restlessness still commanded your body until finally, you’d had enough.

It was nearing four o’clock by the time you threw your sheets off you and stormed out of your bed, exasperated and fed up — by your constant thoughts that would not leave you alone, and how they seemed to control everything. What were you to do without the few hours of oblivion that sleep afforded you?

Was even this some power of the fae…to command your mind and drive you mad with sleeplessness and restlessness until you were losing yourself entirely, becoming an empty shell who lived only to harbour feelings for an ethereal being who saw you as some sort of toy? Was your longing even real, or just the product of magic?

You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Though still very much night, the darkness had lifted just slightly over the village with another summer morning rapidly approaching. Birds were beginning to wake and sing their songs. It wouldn’t be too long before the milkman ventured through the village with his wagon, leaving bottles at the residents’ doors.

If Azriel had tried to visit, he certainly wouldn’t be around any longer — not with the world waking up.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping. You threw a robe over your nightgown and trudged down the stairs, irritated and ill at ease. You headed straight for the back door, to your small yard that was just as grey and dull as everything else. At least the air would be fresh. Somewhat.

Though tinged with the smells of the countryside, it was nice to feel it wash over you. Cool, in the absence of the sun, and yet not cold. You slumped down onto the wooden bench against the wall and rested your head back, closing your eyes.

How, you wondered, had you been foolish enough to land yourself in such a predicament? How had you gone from being some human, village nobody, to brushing arms with the very beings you’d been raised to despise? It had to be magic that had weaved its way into your mind. Perhaps Azriel hadn’t meant to bewitch you, but he had. Perhaps it was some natural facet of his kind that he had no control over, that you’d fallen victim to. You’d heard stories of the kinds of fae who were love talkers — Gancanagh — whose sole magic was to pour sweetened words into women’s ears and so thoroughly seduce them until they were nothing more than their feelings. Could that be what Azriel was? Could he have—

A thud ripped you from your thoughts so abruptly that you jolted, your eyes flying open.

Just in time to see Azriel jump down from the opposite wall, feet landing smoothly on the cracked concrete ground of the yard.

You stared at him, knocked speechless, for a moment, by the mere sight of him. You couldn’t deny that you’d missed gazing upon his brilliance. The dark leathers and flawless appearance. The shadows.

But you quickly yanked yourself out of it, shaking your head. You would not be bewitched or love-talked or…whatever. Not again.

“It’s so good to see you,” Azriel breathed, cleaving the silence.

But you were up on your feet, still shaking your head, suddenly cold all over. “You can’t be here.”

“I checked the village before I came down,” he stepped closer. “All is fine—”

“No,” you interrupted. “You need to leave.”

He paused, seeming to take his time studying you. His brow furrowed at your guardedness, the way you crossed your arms over your chest and eyed the distance between yourself and the door.

“I don’t understand…” he murmured, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? What’s happened?”

The backs of your legs hit the bench in your attempt to back up. “None of that matters. You just need to stay away from me. Leave, and don’t come back.”

Surprise seemed to steal him so suddenly that it gave you an opening the move. You made to cross your way back to the door, to get yourself inside. Locks were no use against his ability to winnow, but at least you could find a weapon in there, should you need it.

But Azriel was stepping closer just as fast, his warm hand closing around your elbow in a gentle yet firm touch. Gods, you’d missed that touch—

“Don’t,” you snapped, recoiling. “Do not touch me—”

“Y/N, just look at me. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Why?” Pivoting to face him didn’t ease his grip even a little. “So you can charm me into believing you’re not dangerous?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes blazing. “I never claimed not to be dangerous. But I am not a danger to you.”

A brusque, almost hysterical laugh broke from you. “Resorting to faerie riddles? How convenient—”

“Y/N—”

“Let me go.”

This time, when you yanked your arm back, his hand fell. You didn’t wait around to see his reaction as you darted through the door and slammed it shut, locking it with trembling hands.

But when you turned, he was right there in front of you, in your fucking house. You backed yourself up against the door to stop your body colliding with his.

“Get out,” you breathed. “I mean it. Get away from me.”

Slowly, he rose his hands in a placating manner. There was pleading in his tone as he carefully bit out, “I just want to talk to you. Please. Tell me what I’ve done.”

You stared at him, pressing your palms flat against the door. It hurt so, so badly that you wanted to hear him out. Wanted to wipe that crestfallen, devastated expression from his face and hold his hand and talk to him and kiss him—

No, no, no. You shook your head, shook the thoughts away. Azriel watched with wide eyes.

“I am not a danger to you,” he said again, slowly lowering his hands. “But if that’s what you’re worried about…” smooth as a damn waltz, he unsheathed a blade, sharp enough to slice through the sky itself. He gripped the hilt, holding the beautiful weapon out to you. “Take this. It is the only thing I am currently armed with, and if at any point you feel in danger, you have my permission to stab me with it. I just want to talk.”

Your gaze flicked between the blade and his face, unsure and upset. Upset, because you knew that the longer you spent in his presence, spent listening to his voice, the harder it would be to remember the driving force behind your hostility. The harder it would be to convince him to leave and never return.

But perhaps the key to that was not being hostile towards him, but rather, making him hostile towards you. That would be easier. You had never been completely honest with him — about who your father was. Maybe fessing up to the fact that you’d joined him in his campaign would be enough to anger Azriel into leaving.

You jerked your chin at the blade, squaring your shoulders. “Place it on the floor and step away.”

He didn’t hesitate. A shadow snaked out, coiling around the dagger and easing it to the floor with barely a noise. And then Azriel stepped back, and back, and back. Until he was pressed against the wall opposite you.

He didn’t move an inch as you reached for the knife and took it into your hand. The feel of it was weighty and foreign — and beautiful.

“I just want to talk to you,” Azriel said again, his voice gritty. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what…what’s changed.”

You met his eyes, squaring your shoulders as you admitted, “I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

His face showed no reaction. He didn’t even stir. Just stared back at you and spoke clearly, carefully. “Alright. Talk me through that.”

“We once discussed a band of humans who are raising a cause against the fae. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“I never told you that it is my father who set up the cause. He is the one behind the campaigns. He is the one who takes his men village to village and spreads word of the evil deeds of the fae. He’s behind it all.”

A heavy silence filled the space between you. Azriel stared at you, his expression unreadable. This was the moment he would curse you for keeping the truth from him. The moment he would leave and never look back.

Except, all he did was nod his head once. Like you’d merely offered him a droll comment about the weather.

“Do you not understand what I’m telling you?” you pushed. “I sat up on that hill with you and discussed the matter when I knew the entire time who you were talking about. What they were doing. I deceived you. Kept it from you.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, too,” he answered quietly. “Things that I, for certain reasons, have not told you yet. I would be foolish to assume the same wouldn’t be the case for you,” he stared at you, head-on. Unflinching. “I know better than anybody, Y/N, that you cannot help who or what you come from. I won’t judge you for it, just as I’ve asked you not to judge me.”

Gods, he was so damn reasonable. So much more…worldly and mature, than the human men you knew in the village.

Then again, Azriel had centuries of life on them.

“I’m not angry that you didn’t tell me,” he studied you. “I can understand why you’d be cautious—”

“My father took me on his campaign three weeks ago. Took me on the road with him and his men.”

 It was that which seemed to really stop Azriel in his tracks. Something — the slightest thing, a tiny reaction — flared in his eyes. You weren’t sure what it was.

Good. This was good. Maybe now he would get the point, that you and he needed to stop seeing each other.

“Night after night, I sat and listened to what my father had to say. To what he knows,” your hand gripped hard at the knife’s hilt, like it was the only thing grounding you and making you able to speak. “None of it was stuff I hadn’t heard before. I even resented listening to it. I curled myself up in a corner and repeated to myself over and over that whatever was being said, you were not like that. You were not the kind of fae of which my father spoke.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am not. Just as I told you.”

“I found it frustrating to hear him tarnish all of your people with the same stories when you had proved to me otherwise. That some fae could be good. That I had been ignorant. And then,” a short laugh rasped out of you, “and then, as if the universe was trying to send me some sort of message, a man came looking for us and said we needed to accompany him somewhere. And we did. My father, a member of his group, and myself. We followed this man to a house in that village, and I knew it was bad from the other end of the street. I could hear the cries coming from within that house, the wailing.”

That information was met with a wall of silence — as though Azriel was biting back his words and waiting for you to finish your story before he would deign to speak. Even if the rigid set of his shoulders told you he desperately wanted to do otherwise.

“There was a girl’s body in that house.” Merely recalling the image of Dahlia had a lump rising in your throat. You silently begged your eyes not to tear up. “The body of a fourteen-year-old girl. A child. A fae male had attacked her, and her poor mother had seen the entire thing.”

Azriel swallowed. “That’s awful—”

“She told us exactly what she saw. Described the faerie to us. How he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with dark eyes and golden skin and such a charming demeanour. How her daughter hadn’t stood a chance, because he was already weaving his way into her mind and appealing himself to her. Making her think that he was no threat. Because his beauty, his allure, was above anything else.”

“And…what are you saying?” Azriel asked bleakly. “That you think it was I who attacked that girl—?”

“No, but it was a faerie! It’s always the fucking fae!”

The words left you so angrily, so loudly, that you realised you’d been waiting for someone to yell them at. That they burned inside you, and they hurt. You felt…foolish. Betrayed.

And Azriel appeared to read all of that on your face. He swallowed again, hard, balling his fists at his sides like it took everything in his power to hold himself back and not approach you.

“I never once denied that faeries are capable of such atrocities,” he stared at you. “Not once. I simply asked you to acknowledge that there is good and bad in all people, whatever we are. It’s not as black and white as the fae just being bad.”

“And yet,” your voice was cold, “I haven’t been presented with anything to say otherwise.”

That might have been a low blow. You were guessing it was, from the way Azriel physically flinched, before schooling his features.

Because he…he was evidence of good, wasn’t he? He certainly had been, before the situation with poor Dahlia. He’d shown you that he was tender and soft, patient and kind. It had been enough for a while.

But you had more or less just said that it had never been enough at all. And that seemed to bother him more than anything else.

“You and I are worlds apart,” you added, sounding weaker. “Whatever or whoever you are…we simply have no business getting involved with one another.”

“That’s bullshit.” In a flash, Azriel was pushing off the wall. He strode forward a couple of steps, before thinking better of it and stopping in his tracks. Ferocity turned his golden skin a ruddy hue. “I don’t care what sides of the wall either of us fall on. What matters is that I feel right around you. I feel alive because of you. If we have no business getting involved, tell me why I cannot sleep for having constant thoughts about you. Tell me why you have consumed me as though you have bewitched me.”

You blinked, almost — almost — wanting to laugh. The description was one you absolutely had fitted to him. To consider that he’d come to the same conclusion about you—

“I swear to you that I have never used any sort of faerie sway to appeal myself to you,” he continued. “What we feel for one another is genuine. I keep coming back to you because I ache for you. And I don’t judge you one bit for thinking badly of my kind — especially after what you saw on your father’s trip. It’s awful, and I abhor what was done to that girl. But I beg of you, Y/N — please. Do not paint me in the same light.”

Each word pelted you like hailstones, the impact of them sending a shiver coursing down your spine. So quickly, your body wanted to falter, to fold, to go marching over to him. It took every shred of effort to stand your ground and grip onto the knife as though your life depended on it.

“I’m not trying to invalidate what you’ve seen, what you’ve experienced.” Azriel took another slight step forward. “I would never. I just…I ask you to give me one more chance to prove that there is another side to the coin. That good can exist as well as bad.”

You pointed the blade towards him, stopping him in his tracks. But you lifted your chin as you asked, “How? How would you prove that? I don’t want any faerie trickery.”

“And there would be none. I want to show you…for you to see with your own eyes…”

“…see what?”

“The good that I know. The good that I live amongst.” Pleading lay within his eyes. “Just give me one more night. One more night of your time to take you into my world. To show you more of myself. And if you still want nothing more to do with me…” Slowly, he shook his head, as though he could hardly bear the thought. “Then I will find a way to accept it, and you will never have to see me again.”

You shook — trembled — with the effort to rein yourself in. You didn’t understand this carnal…thing, deep inside you, that was drawing you to him. Like a thread in your body, connected to one in his, begging you to close the gap and go to him.

You rocked on your feet, eyeing him with none of the anger you’d felt moments before, and all of the caution at how he so often made you feel. Like you wanted to be in front of him. To touch him.

“I don’t…understand what you’re suggesting,” you said slowly.

Azriel took a single, tiny step closer. You didn’t stop him. “Let me take you across The Wall for one night. A few hours, if that’s all you’re willing to give. To my city, my home. Let me introduce you to my family. To everyone and everything that reminds me how much good exists amongst my kind, even when I sometimes doubt it myself.”

“Across The Wall—?”

“It would be entirely safe.” Another step, closing that gap between you. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. And if we get there and you don’t even want to talk to me, you don’t have to. I just…I just want you to see. You deserve to see the good.”

So many feelings warred inside you at once. Intrigue, curiosity, fear — such raging fear. Excitement. Maybe…maybe a little bit of hope.

Hope that you could still be proved wrong. Because you still wanted to be proved wrong.

You didn’t want to let Azriel go.

Swallowing hard, your eyes shuttered. What he was asking of you was huge, and that wasn’t even considering the logistics of how you would do it. “I don’t…know if I could.”

With another step, Azriel was close enough to touch. The familiar scent of him was almost enough, alone, for you to fold. The hand that held the blade lowered entirely without your willing.

“Why don’t you take the day to think about it?” Hazel eyes were a long-awaited caress against your face. “Your father is away for another night yet, isn’t he?”

Your gaze clashed with his abruptly. “How do you know that?”

Quickly, he held his hands up. “Just going by the pattern of his previous trips, that’s all. He doesn’t usually return until the weekend.”

Right. Perhaps you were being a little bit paranoid. You forced yourself to relax a little.

“Yes,” you concurred. “He’s away for another night.”

Azriel’s chin dipped. “So…how about this? You take the day to think my offer over. If you decide you want to accept and come with me, I’ll be waiting for you above. At midnight, on the dot. If you decide you don’t, and you do not want anything else to do with me…well, like I said, I’ll find a way to accept it somehow.”

You knew your resolve was already slipping, leaning more towards what felt right, rather than…that what you’d been raised to believe was right.

And it wasn’t as though it was an unreasonable offer. You believed that Azriel could keep you safe either side of The Wall. Your wellbeing wasn’t what concerned you in the slightest.

You supposed that it was that if you were to go along with this…there would likely be no turning back. You’d so far merely dipped your toe into the world of the fae.

Crossing The Wall would be like submerging yourself in it.

“Take the day to think about it,” Azriel said again, studying you closely. “All I ask is that you do think about it…properly. Don’t just…don’t just write me off. Please, Y/N. I couldn’t bear it.”

Something in his voice smothered that last shred of doubt that tried to hold you back. Your own voice was quiet as you replied, “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

In front of you, his shoulders seemed to slump with something like relief. Pleading still lay within his eyes. You weren’t sure, in that moment, if you could handle staring back at it.

So you instead held the knife out to him, ripping your gaze away. “You can have this back.”

“Don’t want to stab me?” he said, and your lips threatened to quirk up. You forced the smile away as he took the weapon back and sheathed it.

“I’ve yet to decide. I’ll spend the day contemplating that, too.”

So easy, to fall back into the natural rapport you had with him. Azriel didn’t bother to bite down on his smile.

But the smile then faltered, and worry clouded his eyes. “I really do hope you’ll give me another chance.”

“Why?” you blurted. “Why me?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. And then he stepped away from you. Something in his stance told you he was readying himself to disappear.

“I’ll tell you why, if you come across the wall with me,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “I want to be transparent with you. But I have to protect my heart, too.”

“You—”

“Just think on it,” he spoke softer, gentler. “And get some sleep, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, a breeze rippled through the room, tinged with the smells of winter.

And just like that, you were alone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[forcemeanakin]

𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮

•WARNINGS: Semi-smut. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this). Dirty talk, teasing in a public space, voyeurism, make out session. Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage. 

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.

Series Summary: Luke takes you home for Life’s Day. On the edge of giving up on you two, Skywalker manages to light up a fire inside of you again. Problem is… wrong Skywalker.

Part Two Summary: After your little moment with Mr. Skywalker last night, you’re determined to persuade your father-in-law into fucking you. Right on the dinner table with everyone else around. Including your boyfriend. 

Word count: 3.5K.

Link to Part One

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao. 

I’m super excited to announce that I’m very motivated to continue the journey of this pairing, so I’ll be turning FYBD into a series! :) but please be patient! I don’t usually deliver short fics, that’s why it takes me so long to post ! (also look at me trying to polish my themes, omg who am I?)

NEXT PART WILL BE PUBLISHED ON SATURDAY !!!! <3 Consider this as a Part 2.1. If you wanna be tag on it, leave me a comment below :)

“Alright, everyone gather at the table! Dinner 's ready!” Padmé yelled, placing the last set of plates while Leia dropped the center piece. 

“Sugar, you look like a million bucks.” Luke complimented your outfit while you finished up accessorizing, hiding your eye roll by clipping your earrings. 

Last night, you eventually made it to bed with him, feeling uneasy the rest of the night. You gave Luke your back, refusing to cuddle or respond to his arms wrapped around your waist. Tossing and turning, every time you shut down you dreamed about Anakin and his lustful orbs. And, unlike someone with common sense, you didn’t feel guilt from your forbidden target. No, it riled you up even more. 

Being spooned by your boyfriend while thinking about his dad. 

The naughtiness of it was a thrill you didn’t want to stop chasing.

“Is that dress new?” From the moment you woke up to this very instant, Luke hadn’t stopped apologizing and drowning you in compliments and demonstrations of affection.

Yet you still hadn’t responded to him with the same tenderness, prolonging your fight. The reality was that you had already forgotten all about the “slut” bomb, but staying angry at him somehow justified daydreaming about fucking Anakin. 

“Thank you.” You replied coldly, checking yourself one last time in the mirror, turning around to make sure the back side wasn’t wrinkled.

You had chosen the tight, long, black dress even before making it your personal mission to seduce your boyfriend’s dad. You were now thanking Y/n from the past for packing something so flattering and form fitting to this particular event. It’s not like you were out of place, everyone was dressing up as well. 

“Guys! I’m not calling you again!” Padmé rushed. 

“Y/n I don’t want us to keep fighting… Not this weekend, please?” Luke caught your attention by trapping your hands inside his palms. “I’ll do better. Be more adventurous for you…” He murmured, caressing your arms with tenderness. Arching an eyebrow at your cleavage, “Maybe make it up to you tonight?”

Disappointment settled in your chest at the prospect of not spending the night with Anakin.

“Sure.” You faked a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” He kissed your cheek, missing your horrorized face. “Now, after you, m’lady.” He exaggerated a bow for you to walk in front of him.

You snorted, “You’re such a dork.”

Luke escorted you to the table, pulling your chair to sit right in the middle of him and the empty head of the table. Right in front of you was Padmé, with a gorgeous light blue gown and beside her was Leia, who was trying to sit down Han at the other head of the table.

“I don’t want to sit right in front of your dad!” He whispered-yelled, being harshly pushed by his girlfriend to sit his ass down. To be such a tiny person, she sure was strong.

“Try to bond!” She whispered back, fanning herself so the sweat wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“I'll get food poisoning” He huffed, crossing his arms in a childish manner. “And he’ll puke in my face.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, accepting Padmé’s offering of a glass of wine while observing Han’s pout.

“Easy for you to laugh, newbie.” He scoffed with his usual feistiness. “Could you please do something despicable so he hates you instead of me?”

Oh, you sure had done something to scare him off. 

After he practically ran away from you at full speed, you hadn’t seen him all day. Leia and Han adopted you the whole morning, taking you to pick up some stuff for dinner and showing you around the area. Luke joined in at lunch time, after dealing with a way-too-long call from his friend Din. And even when you came back to the house, Anakin was secluded in his little cave, his personal workshop, in the back of the house and hadn’t showed up at all. 

“Y/n, love that dress, you’ll have to lend it to me.” Leia complimented mid sip.

“Manners, Leia.” Padmé scolded her, head moving in disapproval as she set her napkin on her lap.

“You can borrow it whenever you want.” You winked at the short girl, earning a heartfelt smile. 

“It’s perfect for my funeral.” Han dramatically threw himself on the backrest.

“Han, I can’t think of something I could do that would make him dislike me more than you.” You joked, cracking a breadstick. 

Yes, you could.

“Maybe you could kick R2. At least that’s what Han did.” Luke snorted, Han’s head snapping to send daggers to the blonde. 

“I didn’t kick R2!” Han raised his voice while wincing. 

“Yeah, you did.” Leia murmured under her breath. 

“I accidentally fell on him!  How was I supposed to know that he was behind me?” Han freaked out, dramatizing the scenery. “Oh, who am I trying to convince? You already made up your mind about it.” He dismissed the potential debate, shooting the rest of his beer. 

“Han, you’re overreacting, he doesn’t hate you.” Padmé reassured him with a soft smile. “That much.” She said under her breath. 

“How bad could dad actually be?” Luke rolled his eyes, picking one of the entreés to stuff into his mouth in one bite.

You googled him while you were supposed to be showering: the “Hero with No Fear” had enough battles, manslaughtering and war crimes under his belt for Han’s panic to have grounds, your deep investigation showed.

“Ha! You haven’t endured his bullying for two years.” Han crossed his foot over his knee. 

“And counting.” The voice that had you clenching around nothing boomed through the air, his figure appearing just when Han was about to eat a piece of breadstick, immediately choking. “Good, now I don’t have to do it myself…” Anakin muttered under his breath.

Anakin’s eyes widened when he distinguished that the seat reserved for him was right by your side. His usual seat was always at the head of the table, but having you at arm's reach was exceptionally dangerous after the occurrences of last night. It felt like all his hard work of avoiding you all day was just thrown into the trash with a single sweep. He convinced himself that he had to push through dinner, eating faster than usual and quickly returning to his workshop and wait until everybody left the dining room, so he could safely seek refuge in his bedroom.

Nonetheless, faith had a different path for him. One of painful blue balls and heavy sweating. 

Why did you have to wear that dress? Was it indeed appropriate for a family dinner or was it just him thinking too much of it with the head inside his pants?

And why were you smirking at him like he was the meal you were about to devour?

“Anakin, good, you’re here. Let’s say grace so we can properly start eating.” Padmé announced, glaring at her son that was currently on his third appetizer.

Padmé thanked the Maker for having the whole family here, making special emphasis on being grateful for you this year, the new member of the family. You popped an eye open, and voilá, Anakin was staring at you while her wife praised you to the rest of the table. Separating your palms from praying position, you dropped one on top of his, careful not to make a single noise. You drew random figures inside his palms with your nail, biting your lip as you checked him out. If his handsome face wasn’t enough already, he was wearing a full suit, black tie on top of a white buttoned up. 

Perfect to rip apart.

“And please bless this delicious meal that it’s about to feed us… Amen.” Right before she could pronunciate that final word, Anakin had slapped your hand away. “Alright, let’s dig in! Ani, honey, could you do the honors and carve the turkey?”

Whatever that would keep him away from temptation. 

Getting up, Anakin picked up the utensils, turning the turkey around to cut into it. Doing the proper round, he asked every single person their meat preferences before making the incision, starting with his wife. Anakin quickly ruled that him with knives and using his strength to lash a large piece of meat wasn’t the best evasive mechanism when he spotted you drooling over his flexed bicep. 

“Dad, I want a leg.” Leia requested, passing up her plate to him.

“Sure, darling.” Anakin propped the leg on her plate carefully. “Good choice.”

“I want one too, please.”  Han put his plate up in his direction.

Anakin glared and huffed, but eventually dumped the requested piece on Han’s dish. “Fucking child…”

Giving up, Han dropped on his chair, violently biting the leg. After Luke picked white meat, Anakin had no other choice but to pay attention to you. 

“Y/n-” He cleared his throat, ignoring your subtle attempt to press your cleavage against the table so your tits would pop into his vision. “How do you like your meat?”

Anakin regretted that question the second he formulated it. Although, he was appreciative that the brawl between the twins deprived everyone else from your answer. 

You offered your plate to him, wide doe eyes as your foot grazed his shin. “I like my meat tender.” Your velvety voice sent an electric wave directly to his groin.

The rest of the dinner was no better. 

Playing footsie, curling your hair with your finger, glancing at him longer than necessary, more lascivious than necessary. There was this particular moment that still had his mind-blown: You, leaned over to Luke to whisper something in his ear, gaining a laugh from him in complicity and sealing the adorable scene with a quick peck, all while your sandal made its way up to an escalating boner inside Anakin’s underpants. 

“Pass the salt, please.” Anakin requested out loud, clearing his throat, seeking a distraction.

But you were fast as a bolt. 

“There you go, sir.” Flashbacks from your face all flustered calling him that kicked in, the salt shaker falling from his hand at his nervousness and the contact of your hand. 

“Y/n, question.” Leia broke through the madness of noises. 

“Of course, shoot.” Anakin was amazed at your ability to smile like nothing was happening underneath the table, like you weren’t trying to touch his thigh underneath the table cloth with the hand that wasn’t supporting your chin. 

“What’s your major? I think I haven’t asked you that yet.” Leia swallowed a spoonful of sweet potato casserole. 

“I’m a psych major.” You drank a bit of your wine. 

“Oh, that solves the mystery. You’re dating Luke as an experiment, aren’t you?” Leia mocked, earning a kick from her brother. “Auch, laser brain!”

“Leia!” Padmé scolded her. 

“My God, have you been psychoanalyzing us this whole time?” Han stopped chewing his biscuit as he stared deep into your soul. “How bad is it?” He was dead serious.

“Oh my- No! No! I haven’t, I promise.” You totally had.

“Could you please prescribe something to mom so she relaxes once in a while?” Leia begged. “Or give her a session, whatever works.”

“Bet you are thrilled to hear Y/n is a psychologist, huh, sir? Know how much you love shrinks, Mr. Skywalker.” Han’s sarcasm revealed -in a very obvious way- how much Anakin did not like your profession. 

“Still better than being a smuggler.” Anakin bit down on a piece of meat with venom directly right at Han. 

“Oh, dad!” Luke exclaimed. “You should do dad!”

You grinned at the way Anakin almost spit his drink. 

“I’m so open to that, sir.” You turned to meet the former Jedi’s face and smirked with mischief at Anakin’s knuckles turning white on his grip on the chair. 

“Do you do the little shrink couch thing?” Han wondered with his mouth full. 

“I mean, if the patient wants to lay down while I do all the work, that’s fine by me.” You laughed innocently, batting your eyelashes to Anakin the second everyone got distracted trying to guess what you would diagnosed Han with.

Sensing Anakin’s heavy breathing, you did the whole charade of dropping your fork onto the floor, obliged to pick it up. As much as Anakin tried to nervously hide the bulge in his pants, you confirmed that your little game was in fact working. You sat back on your chair with a victorious snicker.

“Oh, c’mon dad! Let Y/n work her magic on you! You bottle so much stuff, it’s good to let them out.” Leia reasoned, completely missing the panicked face of the woman that gave birth to her.

“Suddenly, I’m full.” Anakin announced, cleaning the sauce off the edges of his mouth and tossed the napkin to his plate, getting ready to leave.

“You can’t go, we haven’t had dessert yet.” Padmé frowned, signaling with a harsh glare to sit back down. 

“Why don’t Luke and I take care of that?” You stood up, picking up the empty plates around. 

“Oh, no, sweetie, you’re a guest-” 

“No problem at all! Please let me take care of you.” The fact that you said that while collecting Anakin’s plate was a true coincidence. 

“Only if you let Han and I wash the dishes!” Leia negotiated, following her mother’s welcoming values.

“Shut up, I bet they were going to do it anyway.” Han grunted with gritted teeth. 

“We’ll be back with dessert.” You declared, dividing the tower of plates and walking to the kitchen with your boyfriend. 

While Luke threw away the leftovers, you came back to scoop up the rest of the plates with the side dishes and so. You surveyed everyone about their dessert preferences, until you reached a spot next to Anakin. 

“Padmé, back me up here! Wouldn’t it be cool if we save money on rent and live in the Falcon?” Han upped his voice to match Leia’s.

“I'm not living on a ship that’s falling apart, Han!”

“It would be an adventure every day!”

Sliding by Anakin’s side to hoist up the gravy bowl, you briefly grazed his shoulder with your chest, excusing the lame contact by your need to stretch for the dish. While you were leaned over him, the low-cut of your dress exposed to his delight, you turned your head and asked him:

“Would you like dessert, sir?” No one would figure that your question had any double meaning, but Anakin knew the filthy desires your eyes hid. 

“Not for me, thanks.” He smiled curtly, doing a superhuman effort not to fall into the teasing of your playful peaks behind the tight fabric. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Skywalker? The pie’s so soft and warm, very creamy. Baked it myself.” Anakin visibly shuddered, inhaling sharply as he closed his eyes while gripping the armrest. 

You grinned, thanking your hair for covering your expressions to the rest of the family so you could bite your lip lecherously. 

“On a diet.” He spat, playing with his fork to avoid the magnetic pull of your wanting eyes. And if you hadn’t taken the hint, he rubbed his eye with his left hand, showing off the gold band in his ring finger. 

“Please, it’s cheat day.” You curved your lips into a smirk, feeling clever at the pun. “Just a taste? Bet you’ll love it.” That tortuous glint in your eyes. It had him, it had him good. 

“He’s always playing hard to get, Y/n. Bring him a piece!” Padmé interrupted the moment, smiling at you and Anakin, unaware of the tension she had just cut off. 

“I see that.” You finally left the table, not without grazing his back with your swaying hips.

“You know what? I’ll help you with these.” Anakin barked, standing up and picking the few dishes left.

“Oh-” You stiffened at his huge figure walking towards you. You were not prepared for him to bite into the trap. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll come back for the rest.”

“Let me. It’s the least I can do.” Standing in front of you, he raised his eyebrows to hurry you. 

Nervously, you made your way to the small aisle before the kitchen, feeling the powerful pounding of your heart. His presence hung heavy behind you and suddenly the bravery you had flagged during supper had magically disappeared, the only trail it left were your jelly legs. Mere feet from the kitchen door, you felt a pull from your waist, your back stamping against the wall. 

“Is this funny to you?” Anakin glared at you, pressing your torso enough to threaten your ability to breathe. “Trying to break up a marriage, being the homewrecker of your boyfriend’s family? While he’s at the table?”

You tried to escape, fighting against him for your release. But if the enlarging of his nostrils was any sign, you were not going anywhere anytime soon. It was time to summon that feistiness back. 

“You can’t mess up something that’s already broken.” You snapped, squinting your eyes. “Why are you really here Anakin? To tell me off?” You cocked an eyebrow, glancing down at him. “You don’t seem rather convincing.”

Being between a rock and a hard place had a whole other meaning when you were sandwiched between the wall… and Anakin’s crotch. 

“Stop it.” He demanded, seeing the way you put aside the dishes on a nearby table to play with the lapels of his suit. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” You grazed your lips against his chin, enjoying the quivering that came from it. “Why do you fight it, Anakin? And don’t pull up your lame excuse of a marriage, when we both know that’s not the reason.”

Anakin pushed you by your throat, your head hardly banging against the wallpaper. He overlooked your whining, taking advantage of your dizziness to get his point through.

“Forget me, Y/n. All about me. All that happened.” He warned in a deeper voice. “For my sake. For yours.”  

“Tell me you don’t want me, Anakin, and I’ll stop, hell, I’ll fucking leave.” You murmured with a fire in your eyes letting him know that you weren’t joking around. “Just say the words and I’ll be out of your face.”

Disappointment settled in Anakin’s chest at the prospect of not seeing you anymore. 

So he stayed silent, waiting for the duel inside his head to end and speak the winner’s name: lust or reason. Luke’s voice calling for his girlfriend helped the struggle come to a conclusion. 

“You haven’t answered the question.” You reminded him, to his disdain. “I want you, Anakin, you-”

“Forget me, Y/n. It may be too late for me, but there may be salvation for Luke and you.” He advised, pushing the plates back to you, stepping back. 

“Y/n! I need help over here!”  Luke again.

“Alright. Loud and clear, sir.” You spat, brushing past Anakin while he still stared at the floor.

Marching down to where the voice was calling you, you encountered Luke elbow deep into the water.

“Hey, you brought the rest of the-” 

“Did you mean it? When you said you wanted to be more spontaneous?” Your breathing was irregular from the adrenaline rush. 

“What?” Luke frowned, drying up his forearms with the hand towel. 

“Kiss me, Luke. Kiss me now.” You demanded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing against him.

“It’s everything okay? Why-”

“Luke! Please.” You purred on his ear, peppering smooches along his cheek. “Kiss me, please.”

Once Luke caught up with your level of neediness, he delivered the antidote for your hornyness. Hands fixed on your hips, Luke’s lips found yours and played along at the dangerous pace you set. The makeout session quickly escalated: out of nowhere you were roughly jammed against the counter top, manly hands sliding to your back side to squeeze some of the fat. You reciprocated Luke’s attention by playing with his hair as you sucked his bottom lip. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as kissing Anakin; because even when you and Luke were almost sucking each other’s face off, he was still too gentle for you.

But thrill didn’t take long to appear through the door. 

Anakin’s stroll to the kitchen ceased at the door frame, when he spotted the heated embrace you two were entangled in. Thankfully, the only person he could see was you and barely because of Luke’s back. So your visual connection was only possible because you managed to angle your boyfriend so you could see Anakin above his shoulder. 

Luke moaned when you hugged him tighter, kissed him harder. 

“Y/n.” He moaned, unaware that your sudden passion was boosted at the sight of his dad’s heaving chest.”You’re so hot, sugar.”

“I want you.” You whimpered, staring dead into Anakin’s eyes. “I need you.” Your naked leg escaped the slit from your dress, surrounding Luke’s hip. “Just do it. Give it to me.”

Whatever sweet nothing Luke murmured into your ear flew right under your radar as you delighted yourself with the view of Anakin’s hurting frown. The image was ripped away from you when Luke physically circled your attention back to you. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. You’re too much for me.” Thanking him, you came back to kissing, the only escape route you had at hand to evade his love bombarding. 

However, Luke’s cringy dirty talk was the second most disappointing thing to happen in that kitchen, just after Anakin leaving.

taglist : @darthgloris @ingrid69ers @shulipp @bookishnights03 @anakinswh0re419 @fuckmyskywalker@dxviiin

[byerseason]

why byler is the only logical way to end stranger things: a personal opinion

long post incoming. i've been thinking about what else can they do other than canon byler or is there any logical way which would please everyone. but i genuinely can't find any logical ending.

first of all, let's see the options i heard from people who doesn't think byler is gonna happen.

not adressing will's love for mike, mike never finding out about it and will's arc simply focusing on supernatural part : well, we all know that's impossible. not after spending a whole season to show us his deep love for mike. also it's confirmed that an emotional arc for him is what is gonna tie up the story.

"his love for mike was for him to explore his sexuality, he's gonna have another boyfriend." : they could easily show it to us without bringing mike into it. the byers moving to california was a perfect chance for it since it's a place better than hawkins when it comes to LGBT, they could easily give him a love interest, include him to their journey to find el just like they included argyle and give him a good character arc in s5, just like robin in s4. well, they didn't.

"mike is gonna reject will" : okay, then what was the reason of making him fall in love with mike? did the writers want to write a horrible story for the only gay child in the group? especially after showing us how miserable he feels about mike and how much he loves him? no.

now let's look deeper at the character arcs. my biggest reason to think byler is the only logical way is: will byers

i don't think i have to mention how much will suffered throughout the show and how he needs the happiest ending. they left season 4 at a point where everything about that love triangle is unresolved and they're obviously going to do something with it.

we all know mike is the one who understands will the most. he always been, since the very beginning. we've been shown that their bond is different and special. in a scenario where mike rejects will, we all know this is gonna be ruined. will is not gonna magically bury his love and go back to being besties with mike. and for mike, it's not possible for him to ignore will's love for him and stay friends as nothing happened. it would ruin their friendship for absolutely nothing.they can't simply take the only one who understands away from him.

will said he wants to spend the rest of his life with mike for two times. even if he doesn't have any hope, he desires it. so why giving him a love that he will never have? in this scenario will's character arc is literally "the gay kid always thought he will never have love just because he is gay, he thinks it's wrong and he is a mistake, well yes, he was right! he will never find the love and just watch the other straight people have it. thanks for watching stranger things." will's arc should be an arc where he is proven wrong, where he understands it's okay to love, where he is loved the way he loves, purely. otherwise his character arc is gonna be useless. where did we leave will in s4? he was thinking there's no chance for mike to love him and he has zero hope-- he ripped off the band aid. if mike rejects him the character arc and all the build up in season 4 becomes useless. he was at zero, and he is still at zero.

like i said giving him an arc where he is loved the way he loves was easy to be done without mike but now it's too late. they made it super clear that will doesn't want to be loved, he wants to be loved by mike. mike hurts him yet he still thinks mike makes him feel like he's not a mistake at all. that's not a simple crush. that's pure love. as a writer of a show you don't spend too much time to sympathize the characters love to the audience -something you never did with your other characters, at least not as much as will- you don't show them pouring their heart to a gift, just to waste it, just to make the character feel the worst they can feel just to make the person they love happy. will loves mike such a way that he prioritizes his happiness over his. this is what is gonna pay off.

the second character whose character arc needs byler: mike wheeler

mike has always been the most complicated character of the show, but most of his actions have no explanation other than him dealing with his own feelings. the show introduced mike as the leader of the party and i think it's okay to say he was one of the main characters in season 1 & 2. what happened after s2? a crazy character downfall. the audience started to dislike him and think he is useless. he didn't have any character development in the past 2 seasons. why? why? why?

because we all just watched him struggling. dealing with something inside of his mind that we don't know.

let's talk about a scenario where byler doesn't happen. this makes all mike's arc about being a love interest since s3. no development, no explanation for his behavior in the past 2 seasons. of course mike is traumatized and never talks to anyone which effects his behavior a lot. but there's still an unanswered question. why is he distancing himself from will specificially? the writers showed us that they understand each other the best, they know each other the best and notice if somethings wrong, so why is he distancing himself from the person who he needs the most as a best friend?

this is where we start to think if the problem is will himself, for mike.

why did we make will fall in love with mike just for mike to distance himself from will for no reason and make will upset? did we want will to suffer for no reason or create an empty storyline?

if mike is not how we think he is, he is going to end the show with an empty character arc who is nothing but a love interest, a side character. if mike ends up how we think he is, he is going to be the best onscreen representation of internalized homophobia. people think he is useless or just an asshole but he will turn out to be a perfectly written character who has his own arc.

people love to say "gay people didn't exist in 80s, byler would be unrealistic." which is completely wrong. gay people DID exist in 80s and they DID find love. did they have peace? they didn't. this is why mike and will are gonna be a real representation. we watched all the real struggles they went through. even if we don't get to see them as a couple, they will know they love each other by the end and that's what matters. and there's nothing unrealistic about it.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Winter Greenery OC Questions.

A little list of OC questions based on the folklore of winter greenery in Northern Europe. This is not intended to be an exhaustive list of all symbolic meanings, but rather just a small selection for entertainment, rather than educational, purposes.

Fir: Endurance and Hope.

Is your OC generally optimistic about the future?  Or do they tend to prepare for the worst, whilst hoping for the best? Or do they even take a generally pessimistic view of the way things will likely unfold?

Does your OC actively attempt to nurture or inspire hope in others – even when things look particularly dire? Or are they inclined to be more blunt with their assessment of a situation?

Would your OC ever fight for a lost cause on principle?  Or would they give up – or even change allegiance – in order to ensure the best outcome for themselves?

What is an example of something (or someone) to which your OC has been stubbornly loyal, through thick and thin?  Was it worth it in the end?  Could it ever have been?

How many setbacks can (or will) your OC endure before they give up on a course of action?  Or alternatively, how many times can they be let down or betrayed before they turn their back upon another person?

Holly: Protection and Luck.

Is your OC protective of those to whom they are close?  Are they ever somewhat over-protective?  Or do they prefer to let people suffer the consequences of their mistakes?  Perhaps because they see this as a useful life lesson?

Does your OC carry a lucky charm of some sort?  What makes them think it’s lucky?  Or do they not believe in luck, yet find themselves unable to part with it all the same?

Has your OC ever taken on a burden or suffered harm to protect another from suffering its consequences?  Did the person in question realise that they had done so?  What was their motivation when doing this?

What does your OC believe to be the luckiest event in their life?  Is this an accurate assessment?  Or was there actually more than simply luck at play?

Does your OC believe that they were historically let down by those who should have protected them?  If so then what has been the impact of this upon them?  If not then have they always been kept safe by others?  Has anyone ever sacrificed themselves to protect them?

Ivy: Fidelity and Loyalty.

Has your OC ever been unfaithful in a relationship?  Could they ever be tempted by the physical charms of another?  Or have they ever been surprised by how little they are tempted by others, at least once they embraced their current lover?

What inspires loyalty in your OC?  Will they follow someone purely based upon duty or rank? Or are there certain qualities towards which they are drawn?  Or perhaps there ways by which another person must prove themselves before earning their loyalty?

Has another person ever offered to leave their spouse or lover for your OC?  What was it about them that this person found so hard to resist? How did they feel about it at the time? 

Does your OC feel any abiding connection to their place of birth?  Has this ever been challenged by conflicting loyalties?  How are they viewed by those currently living in their society of origin?

Does your OC remain steadfastly loyal to those who have helped them on their journey?  Or are they quick to dispense with those who are no longer of use to them?

Mistletoe: Peace and Friendship.

Who was your OC’s first friend?  What drew them to each other?  Were they expecting to get along? Or was it a surprise to them both?

Does your OC find it easy to make friends?   What barriers are there to them doing so?  Has this changed over time?

Do other people experience your OC as having a “peaceful” energy? Or are they inclined to restlessness - or even fractiousness?  Do others find them relaxing company?

To what extent does your OC believe in the perfectibility of mankind?  Do they believe that they are playing a part, no matter how small, in ushering in a new utopian age of co-operation and peace?  Or do they consider that people are intrinsically flawed and that the best that can be hoped for is a series of trade-offs between conflicting values?

Who is your OCs most unlikely friend? What made their friendship so unexpected?

Pine: Healing and Longevity.

What is the worst physical injury or illness that your OC has ever suffered?  How long did it take them to recover?  Does it still have an impact upon them now?

What is the worst emotional or spiritual wound that your OC has ever suffered?  What was the long-term impact of this experience? What helped them to move on from it (if they ever have)?

Does your OC make a good patient?  Or are they resistant to being given medical treatment - or even agreeing to rest?

Does your OC expect to live a long and fruitful life?  Or do they consider themselves to already be living on borrowed time?

Does your OC believe it is better to burn out than to fade away?  Or do they perhaps pretend to believe this, when actually they would be quite happy to retire peacefully one day?

Birch: Rebirth and Regeneration.

Has your OC ever experienced something that changed them irrevocably?  If so, then how do they view the person they were before?

Does your OC believe that sometimes a person needs to hit rock bottom before they can begin to rebuild their life?  Has this ever been their personal experience?  Or would they rather spare someone suffering, even if it meant they failed to learn from their mistakes over and over again?

Does your OC recover quickly from injuries?  Or has it got harder for them to keep bouncing back as they’ve got older?  If so, is this something they would ever admit?

Has your OC ever made a heroic or unexpected comeback from a dire situation?  What helped them to do so?

Has your OC ever been part of a wider cultural or spiritual renaissance?  Perhaps following the defeat of an occupying force?  Or the rediscovery of long-lost wisdom?  Or even a reinterpretation of existing traditions?

[pensbridge]

Master Post Bridgerton Live Event Season 3

Let me just say so much of what they said leans into exactly how I pictured it.

○ Some words to describe the season: Shonda-"intimate" / Jess B-"confidence" / Luke Newts-"unexpected" / Nicola-"romantic" / Luke Thom-"zoom in"

○ They talk about Colin's words last season and say it was a good place to start in the story/journey; confirm apology will come

○ Pen has 1 main suitor besides Colin who takes a real interest in her (Spoiler: it's Lord Debling)

○ Julia Quinn said it is a good friends to lovers story. She sounded so excited!

○ Someone (either Shonda, Julia or Jess) said they have some good awkward banter.

○ Julia Quinn really confirmed the Colin-Pen hand scene (1st real emotional and physically intimate scene for them)

○ How Jess B talks about Colin (again) gives me hope for his personal journey-mentioned about the 3rd son "not knowing his place in the world" & more

○ Protective El of Colin confirmed (we get El and Colin scenes), but she still loves Pen; Luke N. called it a non-romantic love triangle between the 3

○ Benedict takes roles of Anthony; he can fall into different roles very well, but who is he and what does he want?

○ Will and Alice acquire a new title this season; Martins talked about how they are "drawn out of the shadows"

○ Adjoa talked about how Lord Ledger affected her; called that romance "life-changing"; QCABS enriched Lady Danbury story coming into season 3

○ Lady D. personal journey-she's "shook" at an arrival that happens 👀

○ Golda-How do you do private intimacy in the view of the public (George and QC)? / she loves the Brimsley relationship

○ When talking about QC picking the diamond of the season said she's bored of what's going on and is "searching for something different"

○ [Other tidbit-they're hosting a Bridgerton wedding for a lucky real-life couple.]

○ Shonda quote about Bridgerton always "finding a way to give female characters agency" and Pen has a good way of coming into this in this season

○ Nicola-"so much happens" in their story

○ They talked about how the show has changed their lives-Claudia said she always walks away proud of what she's done and essentially there's not one part of the job she's unsatisfied with. aww; Adjoa said "a space for everyone"

○ Season 3 is "for the wallflowers"- Adjoa [they mentioned this a lot; the interaction on this between Adjoa and Nicola just made it seem like there is Lady Danbury-Pen relationship]

○ Nic and Newts recreated the pic in the mirror with candle stick!! what?! / They also watch fan edits and send them to each other

○ Easter egg in almost every episode according to Jess B. and they are "raising the bar on visuals"- "even brighter and more spectacular than ever"

○ Superlatives: most like character-Luke Newton; least-Golda; most bloopers-Johnny Bailey or Claudia (and I think she was offended at first, lol)

○ Chaos in Featherington fam because Pen steps out (Portia doesn't like when Pen changes from her citrus dresses)

○ Nicola "didn't expect to be as emotional as it was" from the first 2 episode screening

○ Adjoa said things will make you laugh then quickly after cry

○ Claudia said people make mistakes and people fall..., etc.

○ Theme: "Find your light." -Jess B.

○ The line in QCABS "We are untold stories" is what this season is about

[sykestarot]

what transformations will happen for you in 2024

1-2-3 (left to right)

I DO NOT OWN THESE IMAGES

Hi guys! I took a break due to the holidays but I hope all of you guys had a great holiday and new year!! Thanks for stopping by and enjoy!

Pile 1

"are there still beautiful things?" (Temperance; The High Priestess (rx); two of swords (rx); page of swords; The Star; queen of cups (rx)) Hi pile 1 for you guys I feel a very youthful energy, maybe you just graduated highschool? I feel a sudden sense of responsibility that’s washed over you. Like life has just begun but you long so much to go back to a simpler time. Even if you are older and have been out of high school for some years I can see you being stuck in a corporate machine and working long hours just to not enjoy life outside of work. For the people who chose this pile that are older you’re struggling with work life balance and that this year that can be changed. I see you being able to go on vacation and relax with family this year. For the people who have just graduated high school I see you are feeling like you won’t be able to handle the balance of adult life or working like that. For you I see that you’ll do just fine and you should remember that no one was just perfect at being an adult right out of the gate. Everyone makes mistakes but few learn from them. Let yourself learn from your mistakes, don't let your ego get in the way of your growth. As far as this pile goes I see that you are in the very beginning of your transformations and you will be frustrated but it will all workout in the end. You will be able to transform and grow the way that you feel like you need to.  For this reading I also pulled out some messages from your guides from an oracle deck! For you guys there is “Be Peace”, “Make your dreams real”, “be open to compromise”, and “give yourself time”. Your guides want to tell you to be open and patient. They believe in you even when you don't, so please continue to work hard. If others in your waking don’t believe in what you’re doing you have to be your biggest fan! Also remember to take deep breaths!! Signs: growing up; major milestones; bare feet in dirt; balance; ying yang (tattoo?); cycles; circle of life; less freedom; tired; doves; spiders; spider webs; pearls; purple; 9

Pile 2

(10 of cups; The Star; queen of pentacles; queen of wands; 10 of swords; 3 of pentacles) Hi Pile 2! For this pile I am getting that what will transform the most in your life is the way you approach relationships. I feel like you didn't want your 2024 transformations to be centered around other people and that's not necessarily what this message means. For you I see that you've hung onto people who aren't good for you for a long time and its time to let them leave if they want . I see that your idea of love is giving yourself away so much that you don't even remember who you are anymore. So in that way changing how you approach relationships will actually serve you by bringing you closer to your soul and who you are without outer validation. Which is such an albeit cool journey to be on it is painful as well, but I see you turning all the pain and suffering into strength to persevere. I feel as though you lost your identity and individualism in a group were a part of. I also feel like you have always wanted to go back to how you were before them, but there is no going back, only going forward and creating new. You can always pull inspiration from the past and incorporate it in the future but you won't be able to be exactly who you were before and that in itself is okay. I feel so much pain in you pile 2 because of what others have done to you, you feel like you will always be the person you are, but you don't have to be. you always have the free will and the choice to change. Stay strong! For this reading I also pulled out some messages from your guides! Your guides Pile 2, want you to remember how much you can rely on the universe and how much you yourself create! (“magic works through you”; “the abundant universe will provide”) I also see that they highly encourage you to stand your ground and keep your boundaries when others ask you to do things for them that you are either uncomfortable with or just plainly don’t want to do! Your guides really love you and feel so sad with the way you feel about yourself. Sending you love and light pile 2! <3 Signs: green; fresh cut grass; 777; fresh crisp air; fresh rain; fresh; apples; breeze; scenic views; iron gate; the ocean from far away

Pile 3

"but things are just different since she cut her blue hair off"

(7 of swords; The Lovers; page of pentacles (rx); page of wands; 8 of pentacles; king of swords (rx)) Hi pile 3! So for your pile I see as far as transformations go you also have a sense of responsibility this year or a need to grow up. I feel like you guys are still young but not fresh out of high school young. I get maybe mid to late twenties. For you guys I see that you are tired of working at passion projects and feel the need to get a “big girl/boy job”. I feel like most of you have degrees in something but you didn’t like the fields and ended up chasing other dreams, but because they haven’t worked out you’re ready to surrender and go to the career that you chose to study in. Or maybe you just continued to go to the minimum wage job you had because you knew everybody and the money was easy and the situation of everything was comfortable to you. But if that’s the case I see you itching for something different and more mature. For you I feel like the idea of working in a corporate job was actually the signifier that your youth was over. LOL. I feel now though that your ready for this change and you might be fighting with yourself that you won’t be as fun anymore because of where you’ll be working, but that’s just not true. Just because your job will change doesn’t mean your identity will. Anyways for you guys I feel a much more lighthearted energy because I feel as though you’ve been anticipating it and already been sitting in your cocoon for a minute just waiting for the right moment to emerge with your beautiful wings! Good job pile 3, keep it up!!  For this reading I pulled messages from your guides as well! For you guys I see that your guides are encouraging you to take the lead and be an active participant in the change that happens in your life. They also are insistent that there will be a rebirth in your life and as I said earlier I feel like you are aware of it to some degree if not fully. (“take the lead”; “a rebirth is assured”) I also see them emphasizing not to listen to others telling you not to make this change and that their words only hurt your ego and not to let them have too much of an effect on your choices, as well as taking time to think before you do anything is recommended! Signs: carnival; pier; plushies; tattoos; patterned tights; two high ponytails; black lipstick; alternative fashion; cats; hearts

[onlyonetifosi]

Mistakes to fix

Ollie Bearman paced restlessly in his apartment, glancing at his watch every few seconds. The tension in the air was thick as he waited for his girlfriend, Y/N, to arrive. They were supposed to have a quiet evening together before he left for his next race, but an argument had erupted earlier, casting a dark cloud over their plans.

The doorbell finally rang, and Ollie hurriedly opened the door, a mix of frustration and anticipation written across his face. Y/N stood there, her eyes filled with anger and hurt.

"I can't believe you, Ollie!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you say something like that?"

Ollie sighed, realizing the gravity of his words. "I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. It just came out wrong, and I—"

"Save it, Ollie," she interrupted, her voice quivering with disappointment. "I thought you understood me better than that. But apparently, you don't."

Y/N turned to leave, tears welling up in her eyes, but Ollie grabbed her arm, desperation etched on his face. "Please, don't go. I'm leaving for the race tomorrow, and I don't want us to part on bad terms."

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked with his. "I don't know, Ollie. This hurt me deeply. I need some time to think."

Ollie's heart sank as he watched her walk away, their unresolved argument hanging in the air. The days leading up to the race were filled with tension and silence, each passing moment making him worry more. He couldn't help but think that Y/N wouldn't come to support him because of their fight.

Days passed, and the void between them grew wider. They exchanged only brief, formal messages, avoiding the deeper conversation that was long overdue. Y/N spent those days replaying their argument in her mind, regretting the words that had been said and yearning for a chance to make amends.

Saturday arrived, and Y/N found herself at the racetrack, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had made the decision to support Ollie, despite their unresolved conflict. As she watched the cars lining up on the grid, she couldn't help but wonder if he even realized she was there.

As the engines roared and the race began, Ollie's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of Y/N. His heart sank when he couldn't spot her, fearing that his worst fears had come true. The burden of his mistake weighed heavily on his shoulders, making it difficult to concentrate on the race.

"Hey, Ollie! You ready to race?" It was Arthur Leclerc, a close friend of both Ollie and Y/N, who had sensed the brewing storm between them.

Ollie turned his head and met Arthur's gaze, a mix of gratitude and worry etched on his face. "Yeah, but... I don't know if Y/N will be here. We had a fight, and I haven't heard from her since."

Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Ollie's shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. I spoke to Y/N earlier, and she's on her way. She just needed a little nudge to come see you. I think she wants to make things right."

A glimmer of hope sparkled in Ollie's eyes as he processed Arthur's words. His heart raced with anticipation, both for the race ahead and the possibility of reconciling with Y/N. He thanked Arthur, his gratitude evident, and made his way to the starting grid.

As the cars lined up, engines revving, Ollie caught sight of Y/N making her way through the crowd. Her determined expression melted into a mix of relief and regret as she met Ollie's gaze. With a nod, she silently communicated her desire to talk and find a resolution.

YN's heart skipped a beat, she had been hoping for this moment, a chance to reconcile before Ollie embarked on his journey. Her voice quivered slightly as she responded, "I'm here, Ollie."

Ollie sighed, his face betraying a mixture of frustration and longing. "I can't believe we let things get this bad, YN. We used to be so close, and now we're practically strangers. I'm sorry for the things I said, but you know how important this race is for me. I need to focus."

Tears welled up in YN's eyes as she replied, "I understand, Ollie. But we've let our anger cloud our judgment. It's not about me attending the race; it's about us mending our friendship. I didn't want to come across as unsupportive."

Ollie's expression softened, his eyes searching hers for sincerity. "I thought you didn't want to be here because of what happened. I felt like you were punishing me."

A wave of realization washed over YN. They had both misread each other's intentions, caught up in their own insecurities. "No, Ollie. I was afraid you didn't want me here after our argument. I wanted to give you space, but now I see that I should have been by your side."

Ollie let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "I've missed you, YN. The past few days have been unbearable. I've realized how much you mean to me, not just as a friend, but as someone who understands and supports my passion."

Tears streamed down YN's cheeks as she took a step closer to Ollie. "I've missed you too, Ollie. I should have never let our disagreement overshadow the bond we share. Please forgive me."

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Ollie's lips. "There's nothing to forgive. We both made mistakes, but what matters now is that we're here, together."

They stood there, enveloped in a shared understanding, the noise of the racing cars fading into the background. YN wiped away her tears, determination etched across her face. "I won't miss your race, Ollie. I want to support you, as a friend, as your girlfriend and as someone who believes in your talent."

Ollie's eyes sparkled with gratitude and affection. "Thank you, YN. Your presence means the world to me."

As the engines roared and the race began, YN watched from the garage, her heart pounding with anticipation. Ollie weaved through the pack, his determination evident in every maneuver. Lap after lap, he pushed himself to the limit, propelled by the support and understanding that had been rekindled between him and YN.

The race reached its climax, and Ollie's talent shone through. He surged ahead, overtaking his rivals with skill and precision. The crowd erupted in cheers as he crossed the finish line, securing a triumphant victory.

As Ollie crossed the finish line, his eyes immediately searched for Y/N in the crowd. They locked gazes, and in that moment, the weight of their argument dissipated. Without hesitation, Y/N ran toward him, her smile radiating forgiveness and love.

Breathless and exhilarated, Ollie climbed out of his car, rushing to meet Y/N halfway. They embraced, their tears mingling with the sweat on their faces. Amidst the cheers of the crowd, they whispered apologies and promises, vowing to communicate better and cherish their love.

YN's eyes gleamed with pride as she hugged him back. "Congratulations, Ollie! You were incredible out there. I'm so proud of you, i love you"

"You don't know how much i needed that words, i love you too"

Their embrace lingered, solidifying their bond and reminding them of the resilience of their friendship. From that moment on, they knew that no obstacle could come between them. They had learned the importance of communication, forgiveness, and unwavering support—the keys to building a relationship strong enough to weather any storm.

In that shared moment, their argument became a distant memory, replaced by a newfound understanding and a deeper bond. Together, they had conquered the race and reconciled their hearts. With Y/N by his side, Ollie knew that no matter the challenges they faced, their love would always drive them forward.

And as they stood on the podium, Ollie's trophy glistening in the sunlight, they knew that the true victory that day was not the race itself, but the resilience of their love that had triumphed against all odds.

And as they celebrated Ollie's victory, YN and Ollie promised each other to never let anger or misunderstandings come between them again, for they knew that their shared love for motorsports and their unbreakable friendship were worth fighting for.

[horeformilfs]

Save me

WandaNat x Fem!Avenger Reader

TW: Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Drowning

Translations:

любимая = Beloved

Дорогой = Darling

Моя любовь = My Love

мой ангел = My Angel

------------------------------------------

The quinjet rumbled as it soared through the evening sky, the aftermath of a mission lingering heavily in the air. Y/N sat in silence, staring out of the window, her thoughts drowning in a tempest of self-doubt and frustration. Despite the mission's success, Steve's reproach echoed in her mind, each word carving deeper into the wounds they'd been hiding.

Wanda Maximoff, sensing the heaviness in the air, slid closer to Y/N, intertwining their fingers. "Hey," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "You know Steve can be harsh sometimes. Don't let it get to you."

Y/N managed a faint smile, appreciating Wanda's attempt to console her, but the darkness within remained unspoken. Natasha Romanoff, seated across from the two, shot a concerned glance her way. Y/N averted her gaze, unwilling to let anyone see the turmoil within.

As the jet continued its journey back to the compound, Steve, unable to let the matter rest, confronted Y/N again. "This is a team, Y/N! We depend on each other. You can't afford to make reckless decisions like that."

Natasha, always protective, stepped in, "Steve, ease up. We all made it out fine."

Ignoring Natasha's plea, Steve continued his admonishment. Y/N, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, fought to hold back tears. Wanda squeezed her hand, offering silent support, but Y/N abruptly withdrew.

Natasha, observing the sudden change, leaned toward Wanda and asked in a hushed tone, "Is Y/N okay?"

Wanda shook her head subtly, her concern mirroring Natasha's. She glanced at Y/N, who had moved to a different part of the quinjet, staring into the distance. Natasha excused herself and approached Y/N cautiously.

"Hey," Natasha said softly, concern etched in her eyes. "You can't keep everything bottled up. What's going on?"

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her unspoken struggles threatening to spill over. "It's nothing, Nat. Just tired."

Natasha saw through the facade, but before she could press further, Wanda joined them. "Everything alright?" she asked, her eyes flickering between Y/N and Natasha.

Y/N forced a smile, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, just tired."

Wanda, sensing the evasion, decided not to push, but the worry lingered in her gaze. As the quinjet descended towards the Avengers' compound, the unspoken tension within the team remained, a storm waiting to be weathered.

The compound's landing pad greeted the quinjet with a soft hum as it touched down. Y/N, still grappling with the emotional fallout of the mission and Steve's stern words, stepped off the aircraft, leaving the conversation suspended in the air.

Nick Fury, a stern expression etched on his face, awaited Y/N. "Agent Y/L/N, my office. Now."

Y/N exchanged a quick, worried glance with Nat and Wanda before nodding and following Fury. The redheads shared an anxious look, their concern growing as Y/N disappeared from view.

In Fury's office, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Nick wasted no time in listing every perceived mistake during the mission. Y/N listened in silence, internalizing the criticism, each word adding another layer to the self-doubt she was trying so desperately to conceal. When the reprimand concluded, Fury dismissed Y/N with a curt nod, leaving her alone to grapple with the weight of her perceived failures.

Returning to her shared room, Y/N found Nat and Wanda sitting on the bed, a palpable worry etched across their faces. Without a word, Y/N moved towards the bathroom, needing a moment to collect herself.

Natasha, her gaze following Y/N, sighed, "дорогой, what's going on? You're not fine."

Wanda, leaning against Natasha, added, "Моя любовь, we can see something's bothering you. Talk to us."

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, the facade still intact. "It's nothing, really. Just a rough day."

Natasha frowned, concern deepening. "Don't shut us out, дорогой. We're here for you."

Wanda nodded, her eyes pleading. "Моя любовь, we care about you. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her struggles conflicting with the desire to protect the ones she cared about. "It's just... a lot. I'll be okay, I promise."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged glances, unconvinced but respecting Y/N's choice for now. Y/N offered a weak smile, attempting to reassure them. "I just need some time to clear my head. Thanks for understanding."

The aroma of pizza wafted through the Avengers' common room, where the team had gathered for their weekly pizza and game night. Natasha and Wanda, dressed casually for the occasion, approached Y/N, who seemed lost in thought.

"Hey, Y/N, pizza's here. Game night's starting soon. You coming?" Natasha asked with a playful smile.

Y/N looked up, weariness evident in her eyes. "Nah, I think I'll pass tonight. Just really tired and could use some sleep."

Wanda exchanged a concerned glance with Natasha, but they respected Y/N's decision. "Alright, if you need anything, we'll be downstairs. Take care," Wanda said, leaning in to kiss Y/N gently on the cheek. Natasha followed suit, leaving a lingering kiss on Y/N's forehead.

As the hour passed, laughter and the clatter of board game pieces echoed from below. Y/N, lying in bed, couldn't shake the sense of isolation that gripped her. Faint strains of joy reached her ears, intensifying the ache of loneliness within.

Unable to resist the curiosity, Y/N decided to check on the festivities. Slipping out of bed, she quietly descended the stairs and peeked around the corner. The sight of the team sharing laughter and camaraderie only deepened Y/N's sense of alienation.

A heavy sigh escaped Y/N as she turned to leave, footsteps echoing her retreat. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Natasha noticed their departure, nudging Wanda to glance in the direction of Y/N's retreating figure.

"Something's not right," Natasha murmured, concern etching her features.

Wanda nodded, her eyes following Y/N. "Let's check on her."

The two redheads hurriedly excused themselves, making their way to catch up with Y/N. However, by the time they reached the compound's entrance, Y/N was nowhere in sight.

"Y/N!" Wanda called out, but the night swallowed their words.

Natasha scanned the surroundings, worry etched on her face. "She couldn't have gone far. Let's split up and find her."

Unbeknownst to Natasha and Wanda, Y/N, grappling with a storm of emotions, had ventured into the quiet darkness outside the compound, feeling like a solitary star in a vast, lonely sky.

The night enveloped the compound in a somber embrace as Y/N walked the familiar trail to the lake. The water, usually a source of solace, reflected the moon's gentle glow. Y/N's footsteps echoed in the quiet, each step heavy with the burden she carried.

As Y/N reached the lake, dark thoughts clawed at the edges of her mind, whispering lies of inadequacy and isolation. The water's surface mirrored the turmoil within, rippling with each conflicting emotion.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Wanda, attuned to the depths of her thoughts, felt a sudden jolt of concern. She sought out Natasha, urgency etched in her expression. "Nat, something's wrong with Y/N. I can hear her thoughts, and it's not good."

Natasha, instantly alert, nodded. "Let's find her. Fast."

Together, they traversed the compound, their search fueled by a shared determination to reach Y/N before it was too late.

Meanwhile, Y/N, standing at the water's edge, contemplated the dark abyss within and beyond. The weight of her struggles pushed her toward a perilous decision. In the solitude of the night, the lake seemed to beckon, offering an escape from the storm within.

Wanda and Natasha, guided by an unsettling intuition, pressed on. Natasha's voice broke the silence as they moved with purpose. "We have to find Y/N before..."

Wanda finished the thought, her worry evident. "Before it's too late."

As Y/N waded into the water, fully clothed, the coldness biting at her skin, the gravity of her actions began to sink in. Yet, the relentless darkness within urged her forward, drowning out reason and hope.

Wanda's eyes widened as the echoes of Y/N's thoughts intensified. "Nat, we're running out of time."

Natasha quickened her pace, fear gnawing at her. "We have to find her now."

At the water's edge, Y/N ventured further, oblivious to the silent urgency echoing through the night. With each step, the water's embrace grew colder, and the depths seemed to welcome her into a haunting embrace.

The water closed in around Y/N, reaching her neck as fatigue weighed heavily on her limbs. The struggle to stay afloat became a losing battle, and the haunting depths of the lake seemed to embrace her with a chilling finality.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Wanda combed through the woods, searching for any sign of Y/N. Wanda's eyes widened in realization. "I remember. There's a lake Y/N used to go to when things got tough. She has to be there."

Natasha, fueled by a surge of concern, urged Wanda to lead the way. "Let's go. We need to find her."

In the dark waters, Y/N's final reserves of strength gave out. She surrendered to the depths, letting the cold water seep into her lungs. Consciousness waned, and the world faded to a surreal blur.

As Natasha and Wanda reached the lake, the sight of Y/N's abandoned shoes on the edge sent shivers down their spines. Wanda's eyes scanned the water's surface, catching a subtle disruption near the middle of the lake.

"There," she pointed to Natasha, urgency in her voice. Without hesitation, both women plunged into the water, swimming with determined strokes toward the disturbance in the otherwise tranquil lake.

Natasha's voice broke the silence, her concern palpable. "Y/N!"

Wanda echoed the call, her desperation fuelling her movements. "Y/N, where are you?"

The moonlight danced on the water's surface as they searched, driven by the fear of losing their girlfriend. The lake, once a haven for Y/N, now held a silent secret beneath its depths, as Natasha and Wanda raced against time to bring Y/N back from the edge.

Wanda dove beneath the surface, the cold water enveloping her as she searched for any sign of Y/N. Her senses heightened, she felt a faint brush against her, and her heart leaped. She moved swiftly, hand extended, until her fingers closed around something solid. As she pulled it towards her, relief surged through her when she realized it was Y/N's hand.

Breaking through the surface, Wanda clutched Y/N to her chest. Natasha, seeing the distress on Wanda's face, swam over to assist. Wanda struggled to keep Y/N afloat, her arms wrapped protectively around the younger woman.

Natasha's expression mirrored the urgency of the situation. "Wanda, fly Y/N back to the shore. Start CPR. I'll swim back and meet you there."

Wanda nodded, determination in her eyes. With a burst of energy, she levitated herself and Y/N out of the water, flying towards the shore as fast as she could. Natasha propelled herself through the water, a powerful swimmer on a mission.

As Wanda landed on the shore, she cradled Y/N in her arms, laying her gently on the ground. Panic and relief mingled in her eyes as she started CPR, each compression accompanied by whispered words of encouragement.

Natasha emerged from the water, swiftly joining Wanda. " I'll take over."

Wanda, tears streaming down her face, nodded and stepped back. Natasha seamlessly continued the lifesaving efforts, the rhythmic compressions and breaths punctuating the tense silence. The fate of their girlfriend hung in the balance, and as Natasha worked to revive Y/N, the night seemed to hold its breath.

Natasha continued the lifesaving measures, the rhythm of compressions and breaths a desperate cadence against the quiet backdrop of the night. Wanda, her voice steady despite the urgency, dialed Bruce Banner, urgency lacing her words. "Banner, we need the med bay ready. It's Y/N. Hurry."

Y/N, caught between the realms of consciousness and oblivion, finally expelled water from her lungs. Wanda and Natasha, relief etched on their faces, surrounded her, coaxing her back to the present.

Natasha whispered, her voice a gentle reassurance, "Дорогой, stay with us. You're gonna be okay."

Y/N, seeking solace in the familiar, inched closer to Wanda, the redhead's presence a comforting anchor. Wanda, her arms encircling Y/N, whispered sweet nothings, her words a balm to the turmoil within. "Моя любовь, you're safe now. We've got you."

As Wanda lifted Y/N into her arms, carrying her like a precious burden, Natasha draped her jacket over Y/N's shivering form. They embarked on the hurried journey back to the compound, the weight of Y/N's quiet apologies hanging in the air.

Y/N, struggling to stay awake, murmured softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Wanda tightened her hold, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Shh, любимая, it's okay. We're here for you."

Natasha added, her voice firm yet soothing, "No apologies, мой ангел. We've got you, and we're going to take care of you."

The night held their collective breath as they rushed towards the compound, the echoes of the lake's silent secret gradually giving way to a glimmer of hope.

Upon reaching the compound, Natasha and Wanda hurriedly carried Y/N to the med bay, where Bruce Banner awaited their arrival. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tense yet focused, as the two redheads gently laid Y/N on the examination table.

Bruce, his usual calm demeanor replaced by concern, immediately started assessing Y/N's condition. "What happened?"

Wanda, her voice trembling slightly, explained, "Y/N went to the lake, and we found her in the water. We need to make sure she's okay."

Bruce nodded, directing the medical team to assist. "I'll take it from here. Give us some space, but stay close. We might need you."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a worried glance before reluctantly stepping back, their eyes never leaving Y/N's unconscious form. As the medical team worked, the room buzzed with tension, each passing moment intensifying the weight of the night's events.

Wanda's fingers interlaced with Natasha's, the silent communication between them reflecting shared concern. Natasha pulled Wanda into a reassuring hug, their unspoken support a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce finally turned towards them. "Y/N will be okay. She expelled most of the water, but we'll keep Her under observation for a while. She need rest."

Relief washed over Natasha and Wanda, the gravity of the situation slowly lifting. They entered the recovery room where Y/N lay, pale yet breathing steadily. Wanda took a seat by Y/N's side, and Natasha joined her, the unspoken bond between them palpable.

As Y/N began to stir, Natasha brushed a strand of hair from her face, whispering, "Hey there, мой ангел. You gave us a scare."

Y/N's eyes met Wanda's, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the weight of her earlier apologies lingering.

Wanda leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "No need for apologies, любимая. We're just glad you're back with us."

Natasha and Wanda sat on either side of the bed, their eyes filled with concern and love as Y/N recounted the harrowing events at the lake.

Wanda spoke first, her voice soft yet firm, "Y/N, we care about you. You're not a burden, and your problems are never 'stupid.' We're your girlfriends, and we want to be there for you, no matter what."

Natasha added, her gaze steady, "You don't have to face everything alone. We're a team, remember? Lean on us when you need to."

Y/N looked down, her fingers nervously playing with the sheets. "I just didn't want to bother you. It felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, and I didn't want to drag you down with me."

Wanda reached for Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "Your thoughts and feelings matter to us. You're not a burden, and we want to help carry the weight together."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "I understand. Thank you both."

Natasha, always pragmatic, stood up. "Alright, enough serious talk for now. I'm going to get us some coffee and soup. You two stay put."

As Natasha left the room, Wanda shifted to lie next to Y/N. She tenderly ran her fingers through Y/N's hair, placing soft kisses on their forehead. "You're safe now, любимая. We're here for you, always."

Y/N let out a sigh, leaning into Wanda's touch. "Can... can you cuddle with me?"

Wanda smiled, her eyes full of warmth. "Of course, моя любовь."

Natasha returned with a tray, placing it on a nearby table. "Coffee for us, soup for you. Eat something, alright?"

Y/N nodded, and as Wanda curled up with them on the bed, Natasha took a seat nearby. The room was filled with the soothing aroma of coffee, the gentle murmur of their voices, and the unspoken assurance that, in each other's company, they could weather any storm.

[secretsecretbunny]

idk if you do drabble requests but I love your writing so much! you really have a way with words so i was wondering if maybe you'd do a drabble about new!idol fem reader (can be solo or group w/e) who really looks up to and admires BTS and they meet her before watching her perform for the first time? also maybe there's some flirting? (idc which members I'm ot7) just one of my lil day dreams I wanna get out there 🥺 anyway! keep writing, you're genuinely really good 🫶🏻

I do now!! This sounded too cute to pass up 💕

Title: "Run."

Genre: drabble, one-shot, casual??? fluff??? idk how to describe this one lmao. I hope you enjoy!

Notes: y/s/n = "your stage name". Things that are underlined are links to the outfits described.

Your nerves had you literally shaking with anticipation as you waited behind the scenes of the show. So many incredible talents were performing today and here you were, an unknown newbie who was about to take the stage in front of a live audience. Why did they even want you to debut at this big of an event in the first place? Your manager reassured you it was because they believed in your talent and knew that taking a chance on you and letting your first performance be somewhere as prestigious as this would draw in fans, who would appreciate the unique sound you bring to the table. In particular, if the responses of other idols who are more famous and well-known were captured on camera and shared with their fanbase through broadcasts or similar media channels.

The way they styled you had you feeling nervous as well, with a form-fitting pink mini skirt that hugged your curves and a white button up top that was tucked in with a black and pink tie, adding a touch of elegance to your look. The cropped black blazer and black gogo boots with heels made you feel like you were going to fall at any moment, but the white leather garter with a chain on one of your thighs added a bold touch to your outfit. You felt a little exposed but you took a moment to be silently appreciative of the safety shorts you wore beneath your skirt.

You had always dreamed of being part of a group, working together towards a common goal. That's why you were initially brought on as a trainee for the company in the first place. However, after careful consideration and evaluation of your skills and strengths, it was ultimately decided that your talents would be best utilized flying solo. But you deeply wished you had people to lean on, members who could offer support and distract from your potential mistakes. You tugged at your skirt awkwardly as you stood around waiting for your time to perform. You still had nearly 30 minutes but you were too nervous to sit, instead you opted for watching the screen positioned on the wall, showing the current performers on stage.

You smiled at the screen at the talent being shown. BTS. You had a deep admiration for the group and enjoyed watching them perform their song DNA. The members exuded confidence and comfort on stage, making it seem like they never worried about mistakes at this point in their career. You watched as they moved fluidly across the stage, perfectly in sync with one another. 

A close up of Jimin had you grinning like an idiot. God he was pretty. Fuck, they all were. Hoseok with his vibrant smile, Namjoon with his unique features and buff build, Yoongi and his piercing eyes, Taehyung sporting the flirtiest looks you had ever seen, Jungkook somehow looking both innocent and dangerously delicious, and Jin with his world wide handsome face. And even more than their looks, they were so incredibly talented and hardworking.

You had heard the detailed story of how they rose to the top, overcoming numerous challenges and obstacles along the way. Their journey was filled with both good and bad experiences, but through it all, they showed great dedication and strength. And here you were, you hadn't even had your first performance yet and you had been ready to give up multiple times just during your 4 years of being a trainee. Working for the same label as the musicians who inspired you to pursue music in the first place left you feeling both grateful and slightly out of place, as if you hadn't earned your spot there yet.

You completely dismissed those thoughts and made your way towards the snack and beverage area, specifically designated for idols and staff members. You were in dire need of water and something sweet to give you an energy boost. As the boys finished their performance, the booming cheers from the crowd echoed through the air. You froze in surprise when you heard the seven of them laughing and panting out of breath as they entered the same room you were in. You attempted to seem nonchalant as they eagerly grabbed water bottles and snacks for themselves, while you discreetly tucked your hair behind your ear and reached for a water bottle too, all the while listening intently as Jungkook and Hoseok laughed uncontrollably about some unknown joke or incident.

In their fit of laughter Jungkook backed up into you, making you stumble back a bit. He whipped around suddenly "shit, sorry!" he apologized with a small bow. "Kookie you've gotta be more careful!" came a voice from behind you. The voice placed a hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" As you turned your head, you caught sight of Jimin with a gentle smile on his face. You quickly nodded in response, your eyes wide, causing him to let out a soft chuckle. "Hey! We making new friends?" Came Hoseok's voice as he reached his hand out to you. "I'm Hoseok. Or Hobi, J-Hope, whatever's fine." he said. His signature smile was contagious, spreading warmth to the pit of your stomach as he spoke. You took his hand lightly, stifling a giggle. "I uh, I know who you are. I'm y/n. Or y/s/n. Whatever's fine." You mimicked with a warm smile. He laughed. "Nice to meet you, y/n!" His hand was warm, and making your head swim, prompting you to let go.

"Wait, y/s/n?" Yoongi asked, stepping into the conversation. "The new girl? You're debuting today, right?" As you glanced in his direction, your nervousness was evident in the rapid nodding of your head. "Mhmm! In uh.." you checked the time on your phone. "shit.. 15 minutes actually." You said, taking a shaky breath in. "Nervous?" came Taehyung's voice from behind Yoongi.

You were now the center of attention for the seven boys, who were anxiously anticipating your next words. "Incredibly so.." you replied, making them all smile at you. "Hey I'm sure you're going to do great!" Namjoon chimed in "yeah, you're going to sound amazing!" Said Jin. They all nodded as you laughed

"you guys have never even heard me sing, how would you know?" You asked with a playful lilt in your voice. "Well, you're beautiful, so I'm sure your voice matches." God. Jimin was just as flirty as people described him, with a playful smile and a wink that could light up the room. You rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Smooth, pretty boy." You chuckled out, making him smirk. Jungkook looked you up and down for a moment "Your outfit looks great, your stylists did an amazing job." You took a moment to examine your outfit, making sure every piece was in its place and smoothing out any wrinkles on your skirt.

"Thanks, I actually had to beg them to add black into the theme. They originally wanted me in all pink and white and that's just... really not my vibe." This had Hoseok raising a brow. "What's not your vibe? ...sweet and innocent?" He asked with a smirk and the tilt of his head.

For just an instant, your eyes flickered with something that looked almost like mischief before settling back into their usual serenity; however fleeting this transformation may have been, its impact left ripples. Luckily you were saved by staff running up to you. "Y/n you have 10 minutes! Please come get your hair and makeup touched up!" The girl sounded almost panicked. You gave her a sweet smile. "Be right there!" You said, putting your sweet and shy persona back on. "I should run. Thanks for the pep talk, boys!" you said with a small bow. "You got this!" Namjoon said as you turned to leave. Jin's voice stopped you "would it make you more or less nervous if we said we'll be watching?" You paused for a moment in thought. "Hmm, well, I think I'd be more motivated not to fall on my ass if I knew THE Bangtan was watching my every move." This made them smirk. "We'll have our eyes glued to you then." Hoseok said with a subtle wink, his voice low. "You better." You replied amorously as you walked away.

With you fully out of earshot now, the boys spoke. "she's cute as hell."  Jungkook said. "Hm, she acts cute, but I think she's a little darker than that." Hoseok laughed. "Her and Jimin have the same vibes" Taehyung said playfully. "Oh, so I'm cute AND sexy? Thanks Taetae." Jimin retorted playfully, making the man roll his eyes. "Alright guys keep it in your pants." Yoongi commented. "Right, let's just go watch her performance like we promised, yeah?" Namjoon stated as they headed towards the changing room to switch outfits before returning to the audience.

As you stepped onto the stage, your nerves seemed to vanish into thin air as you effortlessly slipped into your performance persona. The song you performed was sultry, sassy, and sensual. Your manager referred to it as 'the triple S.' You found that you fell into the role easier than you thought you would since you discovered that with how bright the stage's colorful lights were, you could barely even see the crowd, but you could feel their energy and passion.

As your performance was coming to a close, one of your backup dancers suddenly fell near your feet. Despite knowing you needed to continue with the choreography, it felt wrong to simply step around her and ignore her situation. So, you decided to help her up while still singing and dancing, offering a reassuring smile and squeezing her hand gently when she looked panicked. She quickly fell back into the routine and the rest of the performance went on without another issue. 

As soon as you left the stage, you were immediately ushered off to change into more appropriate clothing for sitting in the audience with the other idols who either weren't performing or had already finished their performances. A simple long black dress with two high slits on either side, though you still wore a leather garter with a chain, this time in black though. Your seat was just a row behind the bts boys, you gave a small bow and a smile as you passed them. Once you sat down, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all turned around to give you a thumbs up or small claps, telling you that you had done a good job. Despite your best efforts you couldn't fight the bright smile that took over your features.

No more than 2 hours later you were at the after party being reprimanded by your manager for stopping mid performance to help your backup dancer. "You know you're supposed to keep going in instances like that!" She barked out. "I technically did keep going! I wasn't just going to ignore her while she was struggling!" You spat back with an eye roll, arms crossed over your chest. She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging in resignation.

However, before she could continue with whatever she was going to say, you abruptly turned and started walking away from her. Unfortunately for you though, your hasty retreat led you straight into the path of an oncoming person - or more specifically, their chest - resulting in a jarring impact that sent you stumbling backward several steps. "fuck! I mean, augh... sorry!" you bowed. "We're just always bumping into each other, huh? Now we're even." you looked up to see Jungkook with a couple of the boys not far behind. You let out a small laugh "I guess we are." as Hoseok walked up, he peeked around you for a moment, eyeing your manager as she huffed and stomped away.

"You get in trouble for something?" he asked. You nodded with another eye roll. "She's upset that I stopped to help my backup dancer when she fell." His eyebrows furrowed "she's mad at you for being a kind a decent human being?" You smiled "that's one way to put it I suppose." you replied. Jimin, hearing the conversation being had, pouted "I thought it made you look cool and likeable!" he said with a tilt of his head. You anxiously fiddled with your fingers, feeling a bit nervous. "Thanks guys, I appreciate it. I really hope it didn't ruin the performance." Hoseok shook his head. "Not at all! You were amazing up there!" Jungkook and Jimin nodded, agreeing. "Let me get you something to drink to get your mind off it, yeah?" He added. You smiled "sure, that'd be great."

As Jimin and Jungkook started mingling with the crowd, you and Hoseok headed towards the bar, located at the distant end of the room. The venue had arranged for an assortment of drinks to be served, and the bartender was busy filling orders.

He ordered you your drink of choice and something for himself as well. You two engaged in a casual conversation for nearly half an hour, exploring various topics and discovering shared interests such as music, movies, and hobbies. The ice in your second round of drinks had mostly melted, indicating they were nearing completion when he posed the question "you wanna get out of here?"

Halting your speech mid-sentence, you turned to face him with an inquiring gaze before your expression shifted into a sly grin that showed your true intentions. "Absolutely." You responded. He grinned widely as he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and confident, leading you towards the exit with purpose.

As you walked, he waved goodbye to his members, a gesture that seemed almost automatic. You spotted your manager heading towards you, her expression written in annoyance, causing your heart to race in anticipation. You gave Hoseok's hand a stern warning squeeze as your manager approached, making him raise an eyebrow at you in confusion. However, the mischievous grin spreading across your features told him everything he needed to know - you had no intention of being deterred by anyone.

"Run."

You said before pulling him into a dash towards the exit. You both burst into a fit of laughter as you rapidly made your way out of the building, the sound of your hurried footsteps on the hard floor growing fainter with each passing second until you were no longer in sight.

Tonight might be fun after all, you decided.

aaaa okay how was that? Thoughts? Critiques? Requests? Let me know what's up. Love you!! 🩷