#however nothing is said about age requirements

[selfloverrrrrr]

Can you do Sukuna? I want to request him having a favorite maid who gets special privileges, but she has to fuck him in order for those privileges to remain special. For example, she gets better pay than the other maids who work for him. And then he falls in love with her later, making her his wife.

The Bonding

Warning: smut, heavy smut, unprotected sex, teasing, nipple play, edging....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Sukuna was a wealthy and powerful man from heian era. He's well known for his cruel and calculating nature. He employed many maids to tend to his large estate, but there was one in particular who held a special place. I received special privileges, such as better pay and more comfortable living conditions, but these privileges came at a price.

In order to keep my special status, I was required to submit to Sukuna's sexual desires. He would often summon me to his chambers late at night, demanding me to service him in any way he wants. At first, I was repulsed by the idea of sleeping with him, but over time I grew to accept it as a necessary evil. I told myself that as long as I continue to please Sukuna, I would be able to keep my privileged position.

As the months passed, however, something unexpected happened. Sukuna began to develop genuine feelings for me. He found himself thinking about me all the time, and he grew to cherish the time they spent together. He even started to treat me with kindness and respect, rather than just as a sexual object.

One day, Sukuna decided to make his feelings known. He called me to his private room. I thought it was just like the other days. But when we were alone he took my hand and looked deep into my eyes, telling me how much he loved and valued me. I was shocked by the sudden declaration. but I loved him too. I never told it to anyone but I do love him too much. I couldn't deny the feelings that had been growing inside me as well. I told Sukuna that she loved him too.

He sits on the bed and I was sitting on his lap. We broke the kiss. Sukuna looked at me "should I?" He asked. "Please" I whispered. He pushed me on the bed and climbed over me. I was laying on the bed and Sukuna was laying on me. He looked at me and asked " do you want it?". "Yes..." I whispered. He smirked " Say it clearly please ". "Yes... yes please" I said. "Please what?" He asked still with that smirk on his face. " Please fuck me already..... I want you to fuck me.... please" I begged him and he gave me back a smirk and took off my top and bra. He looked at me and started sucking my boobs, squeezing it, playing with it as he want. I was a moaning mess. I took off his shirt. He got up and unbuckled his pant and underwear. His huge dick sprang out. I was starting at it without even noticing. My lust was increasing just seeing it. He smirked at me. He took off my bottoms and once again lay on top of me. He kissed me roughly. He lined himself with my entrance. Then smirk at me and pushed his whole length slowly. I scremed when it was fully inside. " it's okey... it's fine." He said and kissed my forehead. He started thursting in and out.

I was moaning his name. He was giving me pleasure. The pleasure I was hunting from months. His thurst became harder and harder. Faster and faster. One of his hand reached for my clit. Rubbing it. My legs were shaking. I was screaming, moaning with pleasure. In moment I came. Finally. Finally got my satisfaction. With a few more thursts he came inside me. He threw himself beside me.

From that day on, Sukuna and me were inseparable. We spent our days exploring the estate and our nights making love in Sukuna's luxurious bed. We would often engage in dirty talk and playful spanking, driving each other wild with desire.

As husband and wife, Sukuna and me were happier than we had ever been. We had found true love in each other's arms, and we knew that nothing would ever tear us apart. And as we lay in each other's arms, we knew that we would never again have to worry about the special privileges that I had once fought so hard to keep. We had become a true couple, and we would face the challenges of our lives together, hand in hand.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

#jjk #jjk smut #smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw noncon #fem reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere

[jamiebluewind]

Warning! Pet illness, xray

A friend of mine a few states away had a pregnant female cat walk onto her porch and decide she lives now. She had 3 kittens. Since my friend/roommate @winterpower98 was looking for her first cat, we (other roommate/bestie, Winter/Gaia, and I) decided to take a trip down to visit and see if one of the kittens would work for her.

The thing is, she did fall in love with one! He's black with white markings, so the 6 year old had been calling him Eclipse. He's, curious, playful, and always trying to get into something. He loves Gaia. I mean LOVES her. And she loves him. Like... emptying her savings loves him.

Right before we arrived, our friend noticed a little lump on his belly. They thought nothing of it. And then, it got bigger. And bigger. And bigger.

After a week, we took him to a local vet to get checked out. He had a umbilical hernia. Luckily it stopped before his diaphragm, but the hernia was severe enough that he would need surgery to close it (a lot of articles talked about smaller ones closing on their own which is why we waited). He would also need special care for IBS symptoms and to keep his hernia from getting injured or obstructed before repair (which couldn't happen until he was big enough to go under anesthesia). He would need to come indoors for his safety and be separated from the others as his sisters pouncing on the hernia was causing issues (a week earlier than the 8 week mark).

I was honestly expecting Gaia to say it was too much for her to handle. Even told her that nobody would judge her for not being ready for that level of responsibility. That we could find an organization that could take him and get him the help he needed and find him a good home. He has two sisters she could consider, there were plenty of shelters back home with cats under a year old, and we could even check the town we were visiting and places on the way back home, so there were options. I knew how much it took to care for a kitten with health issues (my current cat required months of specialized care and there were plenty of scares along the way) and Gaia has no previous experience with cats outside of hanging out with our cats, so that's just starting on hard mode.

After a long serious talk on the responsibilities she was about to take on, she said she knew it would be hard but the thought of giving him up made her sick. That she would do whatever it took to give him a happy life for however long she has him. We aren't rich people, she's going back to college full time, she had only decided on him over one of his sisters that morning, and (again) this would be the first cat she has ever had. She went all in without a second thought.

The original quotes from various vets willing to do the surgery (not all vets can) were pretty insane, but luckily I found a non-profit that did the surgery for about half. My other roommate and I fully support her and chipping in what we can.

Eclipse is 8 week old and his surgery is scheduled in a month, but we are going to call in and check for cancelations since he's reached the minimum weight and age for anesthesia. Winter has been so busy caring for him that she's not had a chance to post about him, so I decided to do it on the drive home. I think the story is important because it raises awareness about an issue most don't know about and shows someone genuinely caring about a pet with special needs. As a disabled person who's went through a lot of ableism and survived abuse, it really hit me to see how much she loves him with her whole chest and doesn't ever approach his issues with anger or blame.

I don't ask for reblogs much, but I wanted to ask you guys to boost this. I linked Gaia's PayPal below if anyone wants to help take some of the financial burden off her, but you can also support her with messages and boosting this and her future post/s about Eclipse (cut her some slack guys, she's currently in tired new mom mode). I don't expect anyone to donate because I know you guys are mostly in the same shape as us, but I think showing Gaia support is just as important.

Now if you'll excuse me, the hyperactive boy got the zoomies and just jumped in the toilet XD

Edit: Late thing to add on, but a few days after posting this my other roommate/bestie Sarah decided to adopt his sister! Her name is Melanite, but her honey eyes have earned her the nickname Miel. Her and Eclipse have always been very close (often laying on top of each other), so it's great that they'll get to stay together.

#cats #umbilical hernia #storytime #kittens #pet help #surgery #xray #health issue #paypal #help #disability mention #thank god for cat safe baby wipes! #we used a washcloth and then baby wipes to clean the little mess #god help us when the hernia gets fixed if he's this hyper WITH a health problem #gotta love him though #he's a goof

[taylorswiftbutsimp]

✭Run For Your Husband

Author’s Note: Happy 300 Followers (l’m so happy and i yapped to much here)😭🫶🫶 ✨ this my little thank you gift!!

Summary: Being an outworlder in a foreign nation requires hard work. Fortunately for you, a little twist of fate takes you back to the right path.

Oneshot

WordCount: 3080

Warnings⚠️: Reader is mentioned female, Reader ran-away from a arranged marriage, noble reader, reader lies about her identity, reader is a healer, Dan feng is low-key sick and twisted same goes for reader, Mentions of injuries,wound, past life a little lore of the high cloud quintet (spoilers from 1.2 -3) the trailblazer is stelle, timesskips!! Yandere dan feng at the end??

Heels clicking through the floor, working with the alchemy commission, was tiring, especially now being assigned as a healer. It was back and fort Marastrucken soldiers and injuries there.

Tending the wounds of the great jing yuan who has been recruited by the sword champion jing liu despite not knowing this people and being a ran away from your homeland it was good to know a few history there to not look like a clueless foreigner.

It was not your business to listen to the conversation of the imbibitor Lunae, and Jing Yuan You. was merely ministering to his wounds.

"Have you heard from your missing bride?" Jing Yuan queried the azure dragon, who was seated across the chair drinking tea.

"No, and I have no idea what she looks like" said the dragon in an uninteresting voice.

How was Dan Feng going to know you? When he asked the family what he could do to help, they declined and vowed to bring you to him once they found you.

"In that case, how did you manage to get tied into a marriage without knowing how your future wife looks like?" Jing Yuan puzzled about his friend's dilemma.

"She did not like portraits of herself and often hid away from the world that was the only report i received" said the high elder.

What a bomber, you believed a gorgeous man like the imbibitor Lunae should find another woman to marry.

However, you could only keep your reactions to yourself. His situation was similar to yours, and the minute your father announced your upcoming marriage, you took the chance and fled away.

Being someone's wife was never your interest; medicine was, and you're not going to give that up for a man who is probably an old man with five children around your age.

Snickering at the thought and making a disgusted expression, you failed to notice that Jing Yuan had reached your side and was asking for your opinion. "What about you, young lady? Do you care to say a few words about the situation?"

Gulping slightly, you wrapped up the last touch of his wound before responding, "I don't think it's worth it. The bride ran away; isn't it a hint not to take a chance?"

surprisingly, the two men could only hum in response as you excused yourself.

Strange that you thought the bride reminded you so much of yourself, not liking illustrations and staying to yourself. presuming many people feel that way.

——

"Oh, imbibitor lunae, what could I do to help you today?" You questioned, taking your focus from the therapeutic herbs you were crushing.

"Jinwen informed me you have the medication I asked for a few days ago" the dragon said before gazing at the books on your table.

"Just a moment, I'll find them!!"Running at the medical storage inspecting the label, making sure to offer the medicine that was specifically asked for

Dan Feng wasn't a curious person, but you left your notebook open at the table with a research about medicine and hypothesis, he couldn't help but help and skim a few lines.

Hearing your footsteps, he closes the notebook and looks down into the corridor where you were walking as if nothing had happened.

——

Dan Feng remained quiet, but Jing Liu was thinking a different kind of silence. "Is this about your bride, Imbibitor Lunae? It's no wonder why you're skills are imprecise today."

The azure dragon snapped out of his thoughts. In truth, he was seeing you about more than he should, in the garden, the tea house, even the seat of divine foresight, but he didn't have the the courage to approach you.

Dan Feng sighs, "It's complicated" perhaps he should let go of the bride situation and the little infatuation at the healer lady you.

Jing Liu doubts her long-time friend, but she lets it go because he will talk when he is ready.

You were persistent in working, even organized, and giving everyone around you the same energy they gave you.

You were something the high elder looked at into the way your eyes would brighten when seeing herbs planted on the sidewalks, picking some and making good use of it.

Maybe he should ask you for a tea chat every now and again.

——

The scalegorge waterscape is gorgeous, and anyone would be honored to live here. The palace is well-designed, and the plant life are well-cared for.

“I hope i did not keep you waiting miss (name)”

“Noo thank you for inviting me over your highness-“

"Dan Feng is fine, I think we’re pass that" the dragon chuckles, sitting down and pouring tea into your cup first.

"Is there a reason you called for me? I hope I'm not in trouble."

Dan Feng smiles, his hands now resting on his lap, admiring your facial features. "A few weeks ago, I read into your notebook about medicines. I know it's not appropriate to read into someone else's work, but I'm interested in yours."

A tiny flush forming in your cheeks, trying to conceal it by drinking tea,not used to compliments.

“It's okay, I did leave the notebook open. Thank you for the compliment.” 

“Such knowledge of yours is quite advanced; it can even help people in medicine say, How did you get here in Xiaozhou? I hope I'm not overstepping.” 

"I ran away from home considering the pressure was too much" quick and easy you thought if spilling even a little could get you in trouble and you don't want that.

Not after you found a home on an odd planet.

——

Weeks pass, and you find yourself becoming closer to the high elder, even inviting you to dinner with the quintet. They treated you like one of them.

Life was finally getting better, and you would never trade it for anything.

Not until Dan Feng proclaimed his love to you in the moonlight.

In truth, he was attractive and strong, but you were still running from your problem. Who knew how little freedom you had left, so you had to do what was best.

Reject his confession politely.

“I'm sorry, Dan Feng. You are perfect in every aspect, but I'm not looking for a relationship.” 

“I see apologise for wasting your time (name)”

That was days ago, and a small part of you felt like an idiot. The alchemy commission was quiet without the quintet's presence, especially Dan Feng inviting you out for a short break.

Even the group had not passed by, reminding you that the only friends you made here at the luofu were the quintet and Jinwen.

That said, Jinwen had a life; she was like a coworker buddy, even though she was busy.

Was this it you thought, once again finding yourself alone. Was the running worthwhile if the cycle repeated itself?

No, you can't let the past bind you. You got here for a fresh start. You're smart and can work anywhere. Everything can begin again. 

Soon, you find yourself filling out a resignation letter that was approved the same day you handed over the paper. You didn't have anyone to say goodbye, so the walk back home was chilly.

Not sure what your next destination is, perhaps becoming a galactic ranger and traveling around the cosmos is precisely what you sought.

Besides, you're certain that the group was purposefully avoiding you for Dan Feng's sake. They knew him longer, so it would make sense.

——

Your feet were aching, cursing yourself for investing in high heels, seeking a big crowd to distract your handmaid. Why was she here at the luofu? Did they manage to hunt you down?

Bumping into people and mumbling innumerable sorrys, you needed to leave, and you were convinced she was chasing you.

At the time you started praying to any aeons above to have lost her and wished you were just hallucinating due to lack of sleep and weariness, yet she yelled your name, which was enough to confirm that this was not a dream.

Bumping into a strong chest almost knocking you out ready to leave, but just as you looked up, there was Dan Feng.

Majestic as the day you rejected him.

"are you alright (Name)?” With a tight hold on your wrist and little time to speak, you hauled him down the narrow passageway in the hopes of losing the person you were fleeing from.

“I think someone was chasing me” you panted trying to catch your breath Dan Feng is drawn by your flausturized appearance, and you seem to have a hold on his heart despite rejecting him.

Tucking in the loose hair that was in the way of your vision, he caresses your cheek while gazing deeply into your eyes and seeing the slight bags under them. You must have been working too hard on yourself.

"Come with me, and I'll help you hide" Dan Feng says, holding you close to him, frightened to let go. Perhaps it was exhaustion working in you, but you inwardly nodded in response.

He brought you to Scalegorge, and instead of taking the stairs, he carried you in his arms. It was exceedingly intimate, and it was the closest you had ever been to anyone.

It was beyond midnight, and there wasn't a single soul in sight. figured everyone was still at the festival celebrating. You felt tired, and his touch was delicate, holding you like fine china.

A rush of guilt comes into your head for rejecting Dan Feng, who is an embodiment of perfection.

You couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge you love him. How can you love him? You lied to him from the start, and your past will only bring bad luck to him.

"You should stay the night, you look tired" he says, feeling the vibrations in his torso. You replied in a high pitched tone, "Why?"

“What do you mean, why? I care for my friend.” 

The fact that he spoke with such elegance cracked a small portion of your heart, especially how he emphasized the term friend.

"I rejected you how can you be so calm hate me atleast for a little" going straight to the point as always

Dan Feng was silent, savoring how you fit perfectly in his arms.

Entering the palace with a few guards opening the door for him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck was embarrassing.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're okay!! Thank you so much, Dan Feng." Color drained from your face, all too familiar who that voice belongs to.

Dan Feng lets you go, helping you stand on your own barefoot on the cold tiles. On the other hand, holding your pair of heels, why was your mother here?

"My sweet girl, you got us worried” your mother says, checking you for any injuries before embracing you.

She choked in her own tears while you saw your father standing in between you couldn't really read what look he gave but you knew it wasn't a pleasant one "you kept us worried why would you run like that" harsh as ever, it could compete with the cold season

You froze, letting your mother coddle you, standing like a statue for minutes, unable to grasp why they were here or why they were thanking Dan Feng.

"I'm sorry to ruin your reunion (mother's name), but my bride is quiet tired from today's event and deserves a rest" Dan Feng said sweetly, but it felt phony.

He dragged you gently inside the chamber, and you couldn't process anything because your entire body went numb and frozen. "My love?"

"What have you done?" Your voice cracks as he shuts the door behind him and approaches your form. "My darling, I did what was best for us."

A shiver raced down your spine as he pecked your forehead, one hand roaming around your waist, the other crawling at the back, making its way to your chin, tilting it facing him. "I gave you freedom and wanted to court you in my way, but what did you do, beloved?"

"You broke my heart for the second time" he looked weak for a while before snapping again, making you step back. "You have no idea how pained I was when I heard my lovely wife ran away"

“Dan feng-“

“Shut it" he chuckles sadistically, "till you made a mistake and left your silly notebook on a table. Guess fate ran its course."

The man you once knew was long gone. Was it all a facade to put on a show? It makes you question how many people were involved in his small production.

"I never expected you to reject me like that, so I had to pull a few strings" he stated, placing his forehead against yours and tightly grasping your body. "Leaving your notebook with your name, all I had to do was a background check."

"Don't worry, wife, I'll take good care of you" drawing away and sheepishly grinned, your body and mind not expecting such a thing to happen, not even noticing a few tears were slipping down.

You couldn't do anything, you wept, and even if you ran now, it would be too late since he had too many connections and would hunt you at the end of the universe, which you knew all too well.

"Shh, don't cry. Being a galaxy ranger wouldn't fit you." That night, he comforted your cries and held you in his arms.

Mumbling pleasing phrases at your ears about how he'd keep you spoilt and secure if you just sat still and followed the rules.

——

Dan heng wakes up feverish and dehydrated, even after decades, his past will always find a way to follow his present.

He sighed for the nth time, the same dream every night, and each night became clearer, was his ancestor's sin, and being banned from the luofu was not enough to keep him bound even now.

A gentle knock on his door jolts him out of his reverie: "Dan Heng, are you all right? I'm coming in!" A recognizable voice spoke from the other side.

Sliding the door open, you discover Dan Heng sitting up on the floor, referring to bed: "I heard some noises, March and Stelle, and I just returned from a quick journey; I have a lot of information to give at the data bank!!" You cheerfully said.

"Dan heng, is there something wrong?" Asking with concern when you didn't get a response.

Putting your hand into his forehead to check if Dan Heng had a fever, typically he would not allow you do this, but he seemed like he saw a demonic being.

"I'm fine, just a dream" he nervously glances away, smoothing out the crease in the duvet.

Dan Heng prefers everything to himself, but since you came and introduced yourself as a prior researcher from genius society that Himeko knew he couldn't pinpoint why he gets sluggish.

In fact, March teases him that when it comes to you, Dan Heng can't say no "Maybe it's a good idea you didn't come to this expedition, and your room is sealed, not just that you sleep on the floor."

Scolding the ravennette in front of you recently joining the nameless, the first person you became close with was Dan Heng, undoubtedly you cared for him after all, you two had the same interest the data bank.

Dan heng chuckles at your scolding, reminding him of an angry cat hissing, and then it hit him you looked familiar in this light, your farrowed brows with a slight tint of flush; he had never seen you up close and took his time appreciating your features.

You looked like the woman in his dreams.

——

"What happened? You guys looked like you saw a criminal" you asked, moving around the room looking for a hint of their faces. "We did see a criminal" march murmurs.

You look at himeko expecting she would answer the issues tormenting the mind "stellaron hunter kafka has showed up" himeko responded her guard was still up and you can hear the hesitancy in her voice a hologram of kafka and blade shows up.

"The xianzhou luofu is in a stellaron crisis and appears to be a few warp jumps away" she says with increased confidence.

You saw Dan Heng studying the hologram of blade. "Maybe it's best if you stay with me, Dan Heng Welt, and the others can take this mission" the navigator said, avoiding any sensitive areas for Dan Heng.

Dan Heng nods, leaving the hologram he was eyeing. "I think that would be great, himeko."

“Well i get to see Wel- Mr Yang in action” stelle let out hoping to brighten the atmosphere followed by march “Mr Yang better show us some skills!”

“(Name) what about you willing to accompany them?” Himeko asks

"Of course we can split into two if something ever happens; after all, two is better than one" you let out, matching the intensity of March.

When you see Dan Heng walking away, you quickly excuse yourself and apologize to the group. You seek him. "Dan Heng, are you okay?"

Dan heng hums in replies following him through the data bank, you knew he had a past but were hesitant to ask questions for it was probably painful to him, so you didn't bother.

“Be careful out there (name) things can get complicated”

“Awh dan heng worries about mee~” you teased

Of course, he cares for you in some way. You have a grasp on his space that he wouldn't mind if you broke. He has never truly liked the company of anyone else, but he feels weightless with you.

He watched as you joined stelle and march get ready, leaving him at the data bank. There are still more questions in his mind than answers.

he came in a conclusion when you guys left. Were you the wife of his ancestor who keeps seeking him through dreams?

You can't really blame him if he went out of the train and stepped on a luofu after losing communication with the crew.

#ᗯiᒪᒪoᗯ #dan heng x reader #dan feng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere dan heng #hsr yandere #honkai star rail x you #xianzhou luofu #goodnight😮‍💨

[kimmiessimmies]

Personal post

This will probably be the most non-Sims related post I've put on this blog ever. I'll put most of it under a cut, so you can choose whether or not to read it. The thing is, I could use some advice. And asking strangers from all over the world advice on something important might be weird, but you are also my community, so I value your opinions. Don't worry, this isn't a "Kim being depressed" kinda post. 😉 It's a work thing.

Upfront: This post is about me being unhappy in my current well-paid job and my search for something that makes me happy. It might come across sounding a bit entitled, since I know there are many people who would be happy to have any job, just so they can pay their bills. I'm sorry if this post triggers that, and I know I'm privileged to even be in this situation. ❤️

TL/DR: Do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: Do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well?

Okay, here's the deal. Currently, I work in education. I've been teaching for 19 years, and for the last 3 years, I've held the position that best translates to special needs coordinator at the school where I've been all of my working life. In short, my job entails making sure the teachers have the tools they need to help all kids in their classes with special educational needs, to make sure each child ends up in the right form of education fitting their needs and dealing a lot with difficult or even alarming home situations. My job can be rewarding at times, and challenging at others. Aside from this, I've been part of the management team at my school for almost 8 years. I work at a big school. It wasn't big when I started there, but it's big now. I have a degree in Early Childhood Education, and that's also the age group I've always dealt with. It's the age group I've always taught, and it's the age group currently under my supervision in the position I'm now.

This past year, I've struggled with my mental health, as I've mentioned before, and have not been at work fully for a while. My therapist and I established that while work is "okay", it's also not bringing me joy anymore while my job was once the happiest and most passionate thing I did. Right now, it's blah. This position is not one that really suits me, yet I don't want to go back to teaching either. I've been there, done that. Add to that the fact that, come September, my boss requires me to change my position slightly. I'd be doing the same thing I do now, but for an older age group. This has given me a lot of stomach aches, because the thing that still drives me to do my job now is the fact that I'm doing it geared towards the youngest kids in school.

All in all, the job is not bringing me happiness in the slightest anymore. Having said that, I know a lot of people do jobs that don't make them happy, but it pays the bills, so let's suck it up and just do it. Which is fine, I can do that too, except my mental health suffers...

However, there are a few good things about this job too:

The pay is really good

I have lovely colleagues

I have a lot of credits here because I've been here for so long. They know my worth

I have a very understanding boss who's been nothing short of wonderful during my depression

(If you're still with me, thank you for reading this essay all the way, it's appreciated 💗)

My therapist asked me, "If money weren't a factor, what would you be doing?" My answer was "write." More specifically, I just want to stay home all day and work on ATOH, but no one is going to pay me for that. 😄 So, write, or do a job in which writing plays a role. So, she advised me to start looking for jobs that fit that description. It was a rather depressing search. Most jobs that came close to what I'd like to do require degrees or diplomas I don't have.

And then I suddenly stumbled upon something: Assistent Project Manager at a small, but well established company that creates educational projects (usually based on children's books), books and materials geared towards early childhood education in particular, and currently expanding to do the same for education to older kids as well.

I felt like I had found the holy grail. This is writing, this is editing, this is being creative, this is working with authors, but it's also closely related to early childhood education, the thing I know so well. Despite still being semi depressed, I felt like I needed to at least give this a shot. So, I wrote a letter, enclosed my resume, and waited. I didn't have to wait long, because a few days later I got an invite for an interview.

I went for the interview and was welcomed at a small and very homely office space (with an office cat!). We had a good talk and I left happy. They invited me to do a "trial day" with them, which is what I'll be doing today. They've had a lot of applicants for this position, but from the contact we've had since, it seems like I stand a good chance.

Sounds like a no-brainer? Perhaps, unless you have my brain... Because there are doubts:

Pay. This job pays quite a bit less than my current one. I'm a single parent and therefore sole breadwinner in my household. Currently, I make quite good money because I've been in this job for a long time and hold a relatively high position in the organisation. We can pay the bills, go on holidays, and even splurge occasionally (for example, the very pricey laptop I bought a few months ago). With this job, I would still make enough to pay the bills and go on holidays, but I will need to keep an eye on the money, and there won't be splurging for a while. I do know this sounds like a luxury problem to some.

Job security. In my current job, I'm under a fixed contract. Basically, unless I royally fuck up, I can't be fired. With this job I'd start on a year contract. After that year, they can either decide to give me another year or let me go. This won't just be if I mess up, but also if they decide I'm not the best person for the job after all, or if I don't fit in with their small, close-knit team. Worst case scenario; they let me go, and I'll have to go back to education and probably teach again.

These doubts are few, but strong. So, basically, like I already said above: do I stay in a well-paid, secure job that doesn't bring happiness and actually negatively affects my mental health because of it? Or: do I take the plunge into the unknown and give up the securities I have now for something that could potentially (but not guaranteed) not only make me happy but bring me opportunities as well (since it's publishing)?

I don't need anyone to actually answer those questions, but those are the wonderings on my mind I wanted to write down. Thanks for reading. ❤️

#personal #non sims

[keebwee]

public discord servers should be required to have genuine official rules that are available and easy 2 see

#in a server for a streamer just so i can receive notifs when they stream tweet etc #and the only rule is “dont be a dick” #however nothing is said about age requirements #but people seem to be saying its 18+ while others are not #if it is 18+ i will certainly leave. but also if it is. then they should make that very easy to find out #like it seems just up to interpretation #its confusing #i never talk in it and simply use it for stream notifs like i said #idk i just like . hm. ya know. its weird. also not a fan of one of the mods bros fuckin weird as shit from what ive seen #thats my rant #LMAO #btw the creator of the server has never stated whether or not its 18+ #never #its all just random members saying it so i dont trust them

[forhappysake]

Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought. 

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard. 

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well. 

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?” 

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand. 

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course. 

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall. 

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam. 

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident. 

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall. 

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work. 

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.” 

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?” 

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. “Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.” 

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up. 

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away. 

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.” 

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad. 

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet. 

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own. 

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised: 

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon.  -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor. 

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up. 

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place. 

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him. 

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip. 

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-” 

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval. 

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed. 

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice. 

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete. 

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim. 

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked. 

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers. 

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough. 

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.” 

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality. 

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful. 

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled. 

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?” 

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.” 

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation. 

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions. 

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked. 

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.” 

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. 

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.” 

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face. 

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you. 

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go. 

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you. 

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.” 

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?” 

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.” 

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered. 

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear. 

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked. 

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door. 

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening. 

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest. 

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands. 

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress. 

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled. 

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you. 

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously. 

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly. 

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible. 

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time. 

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him. 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said. 

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?” 

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit. 

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head. 

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit. 

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did. 

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you. 

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?” 

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of  your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt. 

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.” 

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there. 

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice. 

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze. 

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered. 

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed. 

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” 

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act. 

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.” 

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you. 

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked. 

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.”  You agreed.  

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly. 

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him. 

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?” 

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.  

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice. 

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged. 

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.” 

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt. 

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said. 

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked. 

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face. 

“What?” Spencer asked. 

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle. 

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”  

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub. 

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?” 

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh. 

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #dr spencer reid #bau x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #luke alvez #emily prentiss #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanart #criminal minds fic #criminal minds poll #derek morgan #penelope garcia #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #hotchniss #bau team #aaron hotchner #bau fic

[coryosmin]

Extra Credit - Professor Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

summary: Coriolanus Snow is your communications professor at uni and it so happens to be the only class that your grade is dropping in. So you decide to ask your handsome professor what you can do to get extra credit. He gives it to you.

warnings: modern au, age gap (reader is 19, coryo is 25), college setting, nsfw content, mdni, p in v, oral (m receiving), flirting, soft dom coryo, praise kink, degradation kink, etc.

word count: 2,300

enjoy!

Being a university student, it takes a lot to maintain good grades. You’ve always been a good student, taking your time to learn the material, studying frequently, and wanting to maintain high grades. And you’ve achieved that in all of your classes except for one, communications.

It’s not that it’s a hard class. Communications is quite easy when you really get to the fundamentals of it. However, your professor, Professor Snow, was a harsh grader and will nitpick the tiniest of errors. Some may call him passionate about what he does, others may call him ridiculous. You personally think the latter.

Professor Snow was the professor that many of the students fawned over. He was young, some students being the same age as him or similar. He was blond, muscular, and always looked good in a suit. He was stoic and never really smiled for any particular reason. But his personality most certainly put a damper on his beauty.

You sat in your communications class, frowning at the paper you had just gotten back. It was an essay on conflict resolution, something you thought you did really well on as you had studied and researched the topic. However, the grade you received on that paper made you realize otherwise. In red ink was a big old “C-“ with no other information given. No feedback, nothing. And you were quite worried about your grade.

So after Professor Snow had dismissed the class, you stayed behind, nervously biting your lip as you waited for the other students to clear out. There were of course stragglers which made it a bit harder to have the confidence to talk with your professor. Once they had left though, you gathered your things and walked up to Professor Snow, who was erasing the whiteboard. “Sir,” you said hesitantly, getting his attention.

Professor Snow turned his head around to see you before going back to erasing the whiteboard. “Yes, Ms. L/N?” he said in that beautiful voice of his.

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I just wanted to possibly chat about my essay,” you said.

Professor Snow finished erasing the whiteboard placing the eraser down before turning around to face you. He rubbed his hands together. “What about it?” He asked, looking at you with his blue orbs.

“I don’t quite understand how I got a C minus when I met all the requirements that you assigned in the rubric,” You exclaimed, holding your paper in your hand.

Professor Snow motioned for you to hand him the paper so you did. He stood next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours as he showed you what you did wrong. “There are a few grammatical errors,” he said, pointing at a few of the lines. “This line right here isn’t a direct quote so I’m unsure as to why it’s in quotations,” he said.

“Because it’s paraphrased,” You replied.

“Paraphrasing doesn’t need quotes, it needs the citation,” Professor Snow exclaimed, glancing at you before looking back at the paper. “Overall, it’s a bunch of small errors that are silly mistakes which is why you were given the grade you were given.”

You frowned in frustration. Shouldn’t the content of the essay matter more? You sighed. “Is there anything I can do for extra credit?” You asked, looking up at your professor. He was already looking back at you when you had asked, the two of you only a few inches away from one another.

Professor Snow tilted his head slightly, tapping his chin as he thought to himself. After a few moments, he smirked, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “There’s certainly something you can do…” he whispered.

You gulped at the proximity, your heart racing in your chest. “What?” You whispered back.

Professor Snow smirked, pulling away as he moved to close the door of the lecture hall, locking it behind him before walking over to his desk chair and sitting down. “Get on your knees for me,” He said simply as he spread his legs.

Your eyes widened as you realized what Professor Snow meant. You hadn’t taken him to be that kind of professor. “T-that’s breaking many different university rules, Professor Snow. I hardly think-”

“If you want the extra credit so badly, you’d do it,” He shrugged, raising his shoulders as he did so. His expression was amused, as though not expecting you to take up his offer whatsoever. Which made you realize what exactly he was doing. He was challenging you. And you never back down from a challenge.

So you did what he hadn’t expected which is drop your things and walk over to him, kneeling in front of your professor. “I’ll do it,” You replied, looking up at him.

Professor Snow’s eyes widened before he quickly recovered. He cleared his throat, licking his lips. “Get to it then,” he said, his voice thick.

And so you did. You unzipped his red slacks, your eyes fixated on the bulge forming in his pants. “If you want me to stop at any point, sir, please let me know,” You said, pulling his pants down gently.

Professor Snow simply watched, anticipating your touch. He helped you pull his pants down just enough to reveal his black briefs. “Keep going,” he replied.

You brought a hand to his bulge, palming him through his underwear. Professor Snow let out a small groan at the feeling, his cock hardening from a semi to a full erection underneath your touch. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face at the reaction of your professor. It was most certainly hot and sent a wave of arousal down to your core. You licked your lips, moving your hands to the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down enough to reveal is pretty pink cock. Your eyes widened at the length, unable to help the gasp that escaped your lips. “You’re so big,” You said in amazement.

Professor Snow smirked at your reaction. It was true. He was at least eight inches, maybe a little bit more. “Yeah?” He asked, looking down at you.

You blushed, nodding your head. You looked up into Professor Snow’s eyes before looking back at his cock. You leaned in, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue at the top. Professor Snow shuttered at the feeling, a hand moving to your head. You slowly eased him into your mouth, making it about halfway before his cock was hitting the back of your throat. You moved your head back up, swirling your tongue, before moving it back down. Then you got into a rhythm.

Professor Snow moaned, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he relished in the warm feeling of your mouth on his cock. He knew this was definitely forbidden, students cannot sleep with teachers. But he just couldn’t help himself. You had always been his favorite student though he tried not to show that by nitpicking every little thing you turn in. You actually do wonderful work. But he didn’t want to accidentally reveal his favoritism towards you simply because he’s attracted to you. It’s a weakness and Coriolanus Snow was not a weak man. “Such a dirty whore, sucking your professor’s cock for a grade,” He groaned, opening his eyes to take in your beauty.

You moaned around his cock, arousal pooling between your legs. You clenched your thighs at Professor Snow’s words, trying to relieve some tension. You continued moving your head up and down rhythmically, using your hand to jerk off the amount of his cock that you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Getting all worked up from sucking my cock?” He asked, caressing your hair. “Dirty whore.” He moaned. “I’m so close. Are you going to be a good girl and swallow?”

In response, you continued your movements, sucking his cock so well. His cock twitched in your mouth, signaling his release. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure before cumming in your mouth. You swallowed his cum, sucking him through his orgasm. And when Professor Snow finished, you pulled off of his cock, looking up at him with pretty eyes, swollen glistening lips, and messy hair.

“Did I do good, sir?” You asked, giving a small smile.

Professor Snow breathed heavily, giving you a breathless chuckle. You looked so attractive to him. “Yes, you were a good girl,” He replied, causing you to clench your thighs. Professor Snow’s cock twitched in interest again, ready for more. He smirked at you. “Come here, baby.” You obliged, getting up off of your knees and crawling onto Professor Snow’s lap. Your skirt pooling around the both of you. Professor Snow gripped your hips, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

You kissed him back, eyes fluttering shut as you moved your lips in sync. He kissed you deeply and hungrily, as though you were the air he needed to breathe. And you absolutely adored it. Professor Snow’s hands moved underneath your skirt to grab your ass, massaging the flesh through your panties. You moaned softly against his lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore you.

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss, looking into your beautiful eyes. He moved a hand to your clothed pussy, feeling it through the fabric. “You’re soaked, baby,” He murmured.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding your head. “So wet, Professor Snow,” you murmured back.

Professor Snow smirked. “Call me Coriolanus or Coryo when we’re alone, baby,” He said as he slowly rubbed your clit through your panties.

You let out a soft moan, nodding your head at Coriolanus. “Yes, Coryo.”

“Good girl,” He replied, kissing your lips. “Gonna fuck you, okay?”

You nodded your head in agreement. “Please, sir,” you asked, biting your lip.

Coriolanus gave you a soft smile, still rubbing your clit. “Such good manners,” he said. And then he moved your panties to the side, grabbing his cock and rubbing it between your folds. “Are you on birth control?” A very important question and a good one to ask too. You are a college student after all.

“Yes,” You replied, sighing as you felt the tip of Coryo’s cock rub against your pussy. And without any more hesitation, Coriolanus inserted his cock into you slowly, causing you both to moan. It was a bit painful at first, Coryo being the biggest you’ve ever really had. But it felt oh-so-good. “Wanna ride you,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around Coryo’s neck.

“Go ahead, baby,” Coriolanus replied, grabbing your ass. “You deserve it.”

And so you did. You began to move your hips slowly up and down Coryo’s length, causing the both of you to moan. Coriolanus kissed your lips while you moved your hips. You were so wet and tight around him. You whined at the feeling, grateful to finally being able to relieve the ache you’ve had between your legs for some time now. You pulled away from the kiss, throwing your head back in pleasure as you moved your hips a bit faster. “Oh fuck,” you moaned out.

Coriolanus watched you ride his cock. You were so gorgeous and pretty. Your cheeks were red, your cunt was so tight and warm. Coriolanus couldn’t believe he was finally fucking you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, stopping your movements. You looked at him confused until you felt him bucking his hips, fucking up into you at a harsh pace. You let out a squeal before bringing a hand to cover your mouth, muffling your moans.

“You like that, baby?” Coryo breathed harshly. “Like my cock fucking you so hard?”

You nodded your head, mewling. “So good, Coryo,” You moaned out. “So deep.”

Coriolanus continued fucking up into you, feeling his release approaching rapidly. He reached a hand between the two of you, rubbing circles on your clit, causing you to let out a muffled loud moan against your hand. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so good.” He moaned out. “Gonna cum inside your beautiful pussy. Would you like that, huh? Would you like to be filled with my cum?”

You whined pathetically, nodding your head. “Yes!” You moaned out. “Please cum inside me, Coryo, please.” Your orgasm was approaching quickly, the familiar heat building inside your abdomen. “Am so close. Can I cum? Please let me cum.”

Your words and begging spurred Coryo on. God you were so fucking perfect. “Yes, baby, cum for me. Such a good girl,” He moaned, resting his head against your shoulder as he continued his movements. And soon you both were cumming at the same time, you gushing around his cock as he came inside of you.

And when you both came down from your highs, you breathed heavily, looking down at Coryo. You both were silent for a few minutes until you broke the silence. “So…” You breathed out. “Did I earn my extra credit?”

Coriolanus let out a small laugh, nodding his head against your shoulder. “Yes, baby, you did.”

You grinned at your professor. “And do you do this with all of your students who need extra credit?” You asked.

Coriolanus lifted his head to properly look at you, an amused smile on his face. “Only the special ones. And I only have one of those,” He replied charmingly.

Later in the week, when you went into your Communications class and Professor Snow passed out your previous assignments, your essay from earlier was handed to you. The C Minus was crossed out and replaced with an A+ and a note that read “See me after class.”

It’s safe to say that after that, Professor Snow was your absolute favorite professor.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #coriolanus snow #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #tbsoas smut #tbsoas imagine #tbosbas fanfic #tbosbas smut #tbosas x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games smut #the hunger games trilogy

[wheredafandomat]

Queen of the nine

Loki x female queen! Reader

18+| contains angst, smut, powerful queen bitch reader!

Basically Loki is locked up and you gotta go get your man

“Loki, don’t go, don’t leave me, please.” You pleaded, practically on your knees as you tugged his tunic.

“I—” he began, glancing down at you in a moment of uncertainty before his resolve returned “I must reclaim my rightful throne.” He declared.

“B-but you promised,” you whimpered, “you said we could leave together, make our own destiny.” You sniffled remembering your own cursed fate.

“This is me making my own destiny.”

It had been another uneventful day. Between signing truces and assigning roles, there was little room for one’s own enjoyment. You had recently taken up crocheting as a hobby yet you found little time to finish any projects. One thing you could agree with your late mother on was that this job wasn’t for the faint hearted or anyone with any desire for creativity. This job was demanding, it required those who were able to remain stoic and impartial, something that was unnatural to anyone with any kind emotion. People always waited for smiles, frowns, any slither of adour, something that took every ounce of energy to not express. To do nothing was the hardest job of all. That’s why you found yourself breathing deeply when one of your chambermaids greeted you with the news of Queen Frigga of Asgards passing. In that moment, every memory of the place that you had fought to bury deep within your psyche surfaced. The moments spent laughing, learning from Frigga, walking through her flower garden holding hands with Loki, Loki. You bit your lip as you recalled every precious second spent with Loki; the smiles, the kisses, the love, the sex, the promises, the deceit, everything up until the point he abandoned you.

“Your majesty, your majesty.” She called, getting your attention again.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Will you be attending the royal ceremony?”

“Yes, could you arrange a carriage for me please.”

“Of course.”

Your journey to Asgard was a quiet one, your gaze cast over the mountains as you tried to bite down every last fragment of emotion you had, especially in front of your foot soldiers. When they looked at you they saw a valiant queen, not a weeping wench; you wanted to preserve the former. The closer you drew, the more uneven your breaths were. You wondered how Loki looked, whether he looked as aged as you no doubt did. After hearing that his conquest for Midgard was unsuccessful, there was nothing more. By the time that you had become queen, you found yourself disinterested in how Loki ended up. You did discover that he resided in Asgard again but you didn’t want to visit to be certain, you couldn’t. Now however, you wished you had, considering you were about to be reunited with the man who left you the morning after declaring his undying love for you. What if things were awkward? No, this was Loki, your Loki.

“Your majesty, we have arrived.” One of the men spoke. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking out of the casement, eyes widening as you took in the familiar gates of the palace. Before you could open the door, it swung open.

“Your majesty.” Thor greeted, offering his hand as he helped you out.

“Thor.” You smiled, hugging him tightly once you stepped out. You hadn’t realised how much you had missed him. “Although I am happy to see you, I apologise that it isn’t under better circumstances.” You frowned as you pulled apart. His smile faltered for a moment before he replied.

“Thank you your maj—”

“It’s simply y/n to you.” You noted.

“Y/n then.” He corrected himself before pulling you into another hug. You looked around, unable to resist the feeling of despondency you felt at not seeing Loki.

“Where’s Loki?” You questioned, mumbling into his shoulder.

“He—um.” Thor stuttered causing you to break the hug.

“Thor?”

“Imprisoned.” He stated.

“Where?” You gasped.

“Here.” Thor spoke, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he observed your reaction.

“Here? On Asgard?” You almost choked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Odin has his son, prince of Asgard, imprisoned on Asgard?” You questioned incredulously.

“Yes.” He mumbled.

“Today of all days?” You scoffed getting angrier.

“Yes.” Thor confirmed quietly.

“Take me to Odin!”

You made your way to the royal chambers of the palace where Odin was currently. Thor knocked his door before receiving passage only to be pushed passed by you.

“Y/n” Odin smiled “I’m glad to see you made it here safe.”

“My condolences.” You offered, making your way to him before you exchanged a quick hug in greeting.

“Well as you know, I’ve still got a realm to govern” he shrugged, breaking the hug “not much time to grieve” he added, although you could tell he was hurting.

“Of course.” You agreed.

“Sit.” He spoke, gesturing to a chair. “What bothers you child?”

“It’s Loki.” You answered. Odin's jaw clenched before he replied.

“Loki? What about Loki?” He answered, seemingly angry at the mention of him.

“Am I right in thinking you’ve got him imprisoned here?”

“Yes, he’s a traitor to Asgard.” Odin spat.

“But today of all days—”

“He is a traitor y/n.” Odin insisted

“He deserves to say goodbye too, she was his moth—”

“No.”

“Ple—”

“No!” He thundered causing some of your guards to push through the door before you stood, gesturing them away. Once you had assured them that you were fine, you turned your focus onto Odin again.

“Apologies for the intrusion but you’d do well to remember that I’m not the child that left Asgard, I am a queen, the queen of the nine and therefore your superior. My asking was a kindnesses, but now, I order it.” You spoke firmly. Odin narrowed his gaze slightly, jaw clenching again as you studied his expression, finding it hard to remember that he wasn’t actually Loki's biological father despite their uncanny resemblance in this moment. Exhaling, Odin relaxed.

“No, you aren’t the same y/n that left here, although, I see your devotion to Loki hasn’t changed.”

You opened your mouth to answer before he spoke again.

“Very well, Loki has today, he’ll have to return to the dungeons this time tomorrow and not a moment later.”

“Thank you.” You smiled curtly before turning to leave.

“And y/n, you’d do well to remember that you are a guest in my realm.” Odin asserted almost warningly, causing you to pause.

“And yet, I’m more powerful than you in it” you answered, flicking your wrist as you turned to face him again before an apple appeared in your hand.

“What’s this?” Odin scoffed.

“A ticket” you stated “one night, one bite and you’ll be reunited with her although only briefly, your time isn’t now.” You finished in a whisper, handing him the apple as a gift for allowing you to see Loki as well as a demonstration of your power.

“Thank you.” He nodded earnestly before you left.

“Please, release Loki.” You instructed Thor.

Once Thor had left, you busied yourself in the throne room, taking the time to sit and appreciate the view from Asgards Throne.

“It suits you, regality.”

“And yet a throne would suit you ill Loki.” You answered, gaze focusing on the man walking out from behind a pillar.

“Would it?” He questioned, stepping towards you.

“You’d realise that a throne doesn’t change anything, you’d still be a Jotun, you’d still feel unloved and you’d still be angry Loki, just all whilst sitting on a throne.” You explained.

“A throne nonetheless.” He shrugged as he reached you before kneeling, picking your hand up and placing a kiss at the back of it. “Y/n.” He addressed fondly.

“Hello Loki.” You grinned, Loki reciprocating your smile. Standing up, you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry for your loss.” You spoke into his chest as he held you tighter before pulling back, cupping your cheeks.

“Thank you, for giving me today.”

Nodding, you hugged him again.

The ceremony for Frigga was pleasant, although still. Asgard was grieving their queen, an irreplaceable force. Following the official ceremony was a party celebrating her life and rein. This event was a lot more joyous, upbeat.

A plethora of staff greeted you, having remembered you from when you were younger, praising the woman you had grown into. As well as that, there were kings and queens from other realms saluting you, thanking you.

“Care to dance?” Loki offered as he approached you leaving some of the other royals shocked at his brazy behavior; they obviously didn’t know your history with him.

“Very well.” You accepted, placing your hand in his open one.

Loki held you against him as you began waltzing around the room, nearly all eyes on you both.

“Do you remember in our youth when we’d sneak in here and pretend it was our wedding?” Loki recalled as you smiled zealously.

“And we’d pretend our juice was wine.” You added.

“Before we grew older and realised that wine wasn’t actually all that pleasant.” Loki chuckled.

“Yes, then we realised that if we were to actually wed, we wouldn’t finish the night drinking wine.” You snickered.

“No, we discovered something else.” He spoke teasingly before dipping you, your eyes focused intensely on one another’s before he slowly picked you up again, holding you firmly against him as the moment passed.

“So” you began, clearing your throat “in your conquest to take over half the realms, did you encounter any loving princesses, or maybe a prince?” You queried.

“A bit of both” he answered, a pang of jealousy reverberating through you “I expect the same as you but nothing that ever compared to my first love, to you.” He finished, his hands finding your waist as you lifted your head from his chest.

“I fear I wasn’t your first love Loki.” You admitted, Loki’s brows knitting questioningly. “Your first love, your first companion was dejection” you explained, hand running through his hair “I only wish I had entered your life sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

Loki closed his eyes, hand finding the small of your back as you continued swaying.

“Maybe not.” He uttered.

Once the night drew to an end, you as well as the other guest royals were escorted to your rooms for the night. Loki insisted he escort you so halfway though you told your men to head to bed. The both of you walked, back of your hands touching occasionally. When you reached your door, you found yourself wishing the walk was longer.

“Tonight was—” you started.

“Delightful.” Loki finished.

“Yes, delightful.” You agreed, your eyes meeting again.

“Well, goodnight y/n.” Loki bid leaving you feeling a little forlorn.

“Goodnight Loki.” You smiled curtly before turning and opening the door, closing it behind you as your back hit the door with a thump and a sigh. You thought about Loki, about opening the door, hugging him, kissing him. You thought about the possibility of this being the last time you see him, the last time you touch him. Your mind swam with questions, thoughts, regrets before you decided you’d quickly chase after Loki. Turning, you swung the door open before being met by Loki who was still facing it. Exchanging a small laugh between you both, you kissed him deeply, Loki reciprocating your eagerness before you pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. Loki was quick to discard of both your clothes, kneeling once again as he kissed your stomach. He lifted your legs, helping you step out of your underwear before he was exploring your centre with his mouth. It felt like old times again, your relationship restored in a matter of hours like no time had passed. As always, he had you a moaning mess before laying you against the bed and kissing you passionately. You widened your legs as he positioned himself between them, kissing your neck as he rutted against you.

“I want you.” You spoke softly, looking up at him as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’m right here y/n.” He answered, taking your hand and kissing it before entering you. You both moaned as Loki bottomed out, lacing his fingers with yours.

The sex was slow, intimate, consuming. Each calculated thrust erased decades away from each other, every round removing centuries. Your mind expunged the hurt, the betrayal, the desolation as he drove into you, chest pressed to yours. You could feel his heartbeat, feel his breath tickling your ear, feel him evading you in the most pleasant way. You hadn’t realised how much your body yearned for his, how much you had missed his tender touch, his warm embrace, the sound of him in your ear as he came. The night was a loving, sweaty, close odyssey.

When you awoke, it was to the rays of light beaming in and the feeling of Lokis chest pressed to your back as you slumbered in a naked nirvana. You stayed like that for a while, pressed together as the daunting knowledge of this being the last morning of you both like this dawned upon you. You enjoyed it nonetheless regardless of whether this feeling was fleeting.

“Goodmorning.” Loki smiled, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Morning.” You answered, spinning in his grip to kiss him properly.

Eventually you both moved your affections to the washroom, fucking against the wall before relaxing in a pool of warmth. You sat between Loki’s legs as he pulled your back against him, both of you melting into the water.

“I don’t want this day to end.” You murmured as if your quietness made reality less real.

“I know my inamorata” Loki replied, kissing your shoulder, the familiar moniker sending a shiver down your spine “but I must face the consequences of my own actions.” He finished causing you to sigh.

“Regality suits me but I’m just lonely, Loki. I govern all nine realms, billions of beings and yet I’m so lonely, a throne changes nothing.” You laughed mirthlessly.

“As long as I live, you’ll never be alone, I’ll always be here.” Loki insisted, kissing your neck.

Once you were out of the bath and dressed, the guards began preparing for Loki’s return but you had other ideas. You couldn’t face life alone again. You couldn’t leave without Loki. Despite him previously abandoning you, you couldn’t do the same to him, not now. When Thor knocked your door, knowing Loki was with you, you began executing your plan.

“I require an audience with Odin.” You began, Loki’s brows knitting in confusion.

“Okay.” Thor answered unsure.

“And I require Loki’s presence too.”

“Y/n.” Loki called.

“Get it done Thor.”

As planned, Thor had arranged a meeting with Odin just before it was time for Loki to return. On the journey to the throne room, you briefed Loki on the plan. He agreed, still wanting to do his time. When you approached, you sauntered in confidently.

“Loki is leaving with me.” You declared.

“That’s absurd!” Odin scoffed.

“Make no mistake, he will not be a free man, he will serve his time but in my home realm.” You delved.

“I forbid it.” Odin spat.

“You cannot have a prince locked up in the dungeons of his home realm, that’s what’s absurd.”

Odin remained silent for a few moments seemingly thinking.

“I’d be happy to have your guards watch him but he will be on my soil, think of it as me taking him off of your hands.”

“Fine” Odin relented “but when the time comes, I’ll require a favour from you.”

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. Reunited, at last.

“Fine” Odin gave up “but when the time comes, I’ll require a favour from you.”

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. Reunited, at last.

“Simply call for me.” You agreed and just like that, Loki was coming home with you. The two of you reunited, at last.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x avenger reader #loki angst #tom hiddleston #loki #loki au #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader smut #loki drabble #loki fluff #loki of asgard

[megamindsecretlair]

Every Dose of Me

Pairing: Isaac x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving) size kink, daddy kink. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and Isaac has a few ideas about how to wake you up.

Word Count: 1,413k

A/N: I'm not sure if others peeped what I peeped, but that man get to yelling and I'm on my knees. So let me know if you want more! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst0 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings @tranquilfandomer

You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Isaac was not in bed with you, which wasn’t typical of him. You got out of bed with a grunt, already not having a great start.

You padded into the living room in your fuzzy house slippers, wondering where the fuck Isaac was and why he wasn’t delivering your morning kisses. You heard his voice somewhere in the house, speaking harshly to somebody.

You followed the sound of his voice to the living room, where he sat on the couch in nothing but his gray sweatpants. You stood there staring at his bare chest, admiring the view. He was thick in all the right places, giving you something to hold on to while you were fucking. The tattoos covering his body only highlighted the planes and valleys of his physique, making your mouth water so shortly after waking up.

You scratched at your bonnet, staring at him while he talked. “As soon as we find that nigga, let me know,” Isaac said into the phone. When he caught you staring in the doorway, he looked at you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. His whole demeanor changed. It was subtle, since Isaac wasn’t the type to do more than a quick smile. But it was the way his shoulders drooped. The way his face softened as he looked at you. 

“Hmm,” you grunted. You weren’t shit in the morning before your cup of coffee. Could barely be qualified as a person. 

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “I said good morning, beautiful,” he said.

You yawned, stretching. His T-shirt that you wore to bed rose up over your bare legs. You scratched at your bonnet once more, heading into the kitchen. You mournfully looked at the empty pot. 

Isaac got you one of those fancy Keurig machines. Your favorite coffee at the press of a button. But the water tank was empty and you resented the amount of energy required to refill it. But your need for coffee overrode your grumpiness, so you shuffled towards the pot, pressing the on button, and grabbing the water tank.

“Fuck wrong with you?” Isaac asked. You hadn’t heard him follow you into the kitchen, nor did you hear him calling after you. It really was a weird morning.

“Nothing, nigga,” you grunted. You refilled the water tank and placed it under the Keurig. Issac’s hand wrapped around your bicep and pulled you towards his towering embrace. He stared down at you as if you’d lost your ever loving mind. 

“Fuck all this attitude about?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to say something, prepared to tell him that it wasn’t you, it was the coffee. It was a weird morning. There something wrong with the planets. Something else was the cause. Not your fault. 

However, Isaac wasn’t waiting for a response. He dragged you away from the Keurig, roughly picking you up and planting you on the kitchen table.

“What the fuck, Isaac!” You yelled out, pushing at his chest. The Keurig hummed and hissed, steam rising from the pot. You only needed to finish getting your coffee. Finish that sweet bean juice to wake you up and get your day started. 

He settled down into a chair, scraping it against the linoleum floor as he pushed inward. You pushed at him once more. He knew you were a bear before your coffee. 

“Yo ass always grumpy about somethin’, damn,” he complained. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, though it ought to be obvious what he was planning. Your mind wasn’t working however, too focused on the hiss and rise of the steam that meant the water was nice and hot. 

“I’m hungry,” he said. He winked at you, leaning forward to bite your thigh. 

It was your turn to hiss. You grabbed onto his broad shoulder, leaning back a bit to see what he was up to. He used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, tongue diving in to lick you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. 

Okay, maybe there was more than one way to wake up. Isaac took his time, getting your clit wet with his saliva. He teased you, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, torturous circles that made your thighs quiver. 

Your pussy throbbed under his careful ministrations. Your fingers dug into his bare shoulders, admiring the strength of him. He was such a man. Something about a man you couldn’t tell what to do had your body responding like a magnet to him. 

Your breathy sighs and moans increased as he tasted you. Tasted the slow, creamy essence dripping down your inner thighs. Isaac moaned at your sweet taste. At the way you gripped onto him. At the way your sighs pushed your pussy into his awaiting mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m finna cum. I’m finna cum,” you moaned.

“Cum on then,” he said into your pussy. He flattened his tongue, giving you one long stripe from entrance to clit. You screamed out, clutching his head to your pussy as you jerked and twisted, so overcome with pleasure that your vision winked out. 

Isaac teased and licked you through it, moaning, sending vibrations down your legs. You shook violently as he finished sopping up whatever you eked out. He stood then, pushing back the chair. 

“Yo ass awake now?” He asked.

You looked down at the dark tent of his pants, signaling that he was turned on. “No, I need more help,” you said with a small grin. 

Isaac licked his lips, tongue peeking out as he dropped his sweats low enough to reveal his long dick. He tapped the tip against your pussy, making wet smacks echo in the tiny kitchen. 

You moaned. Still a little sensitive from your orgasm, you couldn’t take the teasing. You reached for him, guiding him to your entrance. You looked into his eyes and moaned, the ragged thing bruising your throat. 

Isaac leaned down and kissed you as you guided him inside, to fill you up exactly as you needed. You were wide awake now. Whatever foul mood you had evaporated with every inch Isaac delivered. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue, tasted how much he turned you on. The wet, warm press of his lips rivaled the fire he started at your core. He was too big to bottom out inside of you, but every inch that was inside felt like its own particular magic. 

He worked his hips, pulling out of you and then sliding back in. “OH fuck,” you moaned, dropping your head forward on his chest.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Isaac groaned. His strokes were lazy, smooth, and filled with tiny curses falling from his lips like being inside you was heaven. He made love to you and you wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him close. Keep him right there.

He licked his thumb, dropping it to your clit. Your hand slapped against his chest as you turned pleading eyes towards him. “Fuck, baby, please,” you moaned. 

“Please what? What you need?” He asked. 

“Fuuuck,” you cried out. 

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t make your words work. Couldn’t find the proper order to put them in to tell him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. His strokes combined with his thumb and the nasty look in his eyes had you panting, orgasm rising to the surface like the break of the ocean against the shore.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded.

“More. Faster.”

His strokes remained the same steady pace as he furiously worked his thumb against your clit. You began tweaking, twitching, grabbing onto his arms and holding on as you cursed, a keening whine leaving your lips like a wounded animal. 

Your release triggered his own as he let himself cum inside you, fucking his cum so deep you wanted it to last forever. 

“Got damn,” he moaned. He pulled you closer to him, dropping kisses to your lips, cheeks, and neck. When the last of his cum left him, he stayed planted inside of you. You were sweaty and gross now but Isaac smiled at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“You awake now, baby?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.” You lifted your chin so he could plant another kiss on you.

“We gon’ try this shit again. Good morning, beautiful,” he said. He kissed your forehead and you melted.

“Good morning, Big Daddy.”

The end.

There may be more, but ya'll gotta let me know if you liked this one!

The Secret Isaac Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Isaac Files #Isaac x Black!reader #Isaac x Black reader #x Black reader #Isaac x Fem!reader #Isaac x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Isaac x plus size reader #They Cloned Tyrone #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction #Isaac fanfic #Isaac fan fic #Isaac fan fiction #Isaac fanfiction #J Alphonse Nicholson fanfic #J Alphonse Nicholson fan fic

[brainbuffering]

An argument that regularly occurs within the discussion of accessibility in cinema, is that creators should not have limitations put upon them. If their creative vision requires Strobe effects to be used, then they should be used regardless of any adverse effects they may have on the viewer. 

Others before me have spoken about how the health and wellbeing of your audience should be more important than any artistic vision. However, I think something that is never noted is that creatives are already placed with strict limitations in the form of age certificate guidelines, and other broadcasting standards. 

Now, fair warning. I am going to use a lot of uncensored profanity here. If you are offended by slang terms that refer to the act of sex, genitalia, a person's moral/social standing, or any form of bodily fluid then you may wish to step away. 

"Cunt. Cunt cunt cunt cunt. Cuntity-cunt-cunt! I'll say it again you shit faced bastards! What is up with all these mother fucking cunts, on this mother fucking cunt ass plane?" is a phrase that beloved merc-with-a-mouth Deadpool is not allowed to say. The rating of the series doesn't matter. The nature of the character doesn't matter. The fact that, objectively, nothing of true offence to any individual beyond the realm of fiction has been said; doesn't matter. The words used are deemed as offensive by the society in which we live in, and so the producers and editors have decided to place limitations on the writers. 

British Swear-tastic Political Comedy "The Thick of It" famously had to carefully count the number of cunts and fucks in order to meet with "broadcasting standards". This limited their actors ability to improvise more effectively, and led to scenes being forced to be cut or heavily edited in post production. Yet nobody ever questions whether the limit on swearing was unreasonable even though it was fundamentally detrimental to their creative process. 

These may seem like some extreme examples, but one must remember that this applies to all cinematic media. It does not matter that a depressed, middle aged Peter Parker would be perfectly at home letting our a quite "Ahhhh fuck." when he drops his pizza on the floor, because Spider-Man films need to be rated PG-13 in order to maintain sales. This policing of language does limit the ways in which a character is allowed to express themselves, and the sort of stories that are therefore allowed to be told. However the majority of fans deem it perfectly reasonable and acceptable. It does not cause outrage in the same way that suggesting a PG-13 film does not contain Strobe effects heavy enough to send someone to hospital. It would appear that society has deemed the word “Fuck” worse than a Seizure. Peter Parker cannot say fuck in order to protect viewers, he can, however, bombard them with deadly strobes. 

And why is this? What is it about our society where we have deemed it more traumatising for a 14 year old to hear the word "cunt" than it is for them to have (or even witness) a seizure? I can assure you, from personal experience, that seizures have caused far more long term damage to my brain than the word "cunt" ever has. 

Cinematic Limitations are not just put down to language though. Blood shed is also something that is carefully monitored during ratings. If one watches the extended edition of "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" one will note significantly more blood shed during the extended sequences! A level that is far more realistic than what was shown in the original. This is because the cinematic release needed to be a 12a, whereas the Extended BluRay was allowed to be a 15. The creators had to work around creative limitations that were put in place to protect their viewers' sensibilities. 

Of course standards for these things differ across nations. Other recent examples of this include films such as "Demon Slayer: Mugan Train". Demon Slayer is a Japanese animated film based off of a comic aimed at young boys, and as such was given a PG12 rating in its home nation. However, in the UK it was rated as 15 due to "Strong Violence" including "strangling, slashings and stabbings with bladed weapons, dismemberment and decapitations which result in extensive blood spurts and other forms of bloodshed." The US release was given an R Rating for similar reasons, although it is perhaps important to note that whilst in the UK the film was not allowed to be seen by anyone under the age of 15, in the US a child could still go see the film so long as they had adult supervision. 

Yet it is also interesting to note that whilst Japanese Society considers fantasy levels of blood shed to not be a problem for their children to watch, they do have some of the strictest photosensitivity laws for broadcast TV. This is as a direct response to the infamous "Pokémon Incident" where 685 children from across Japan were taken to hospital after suffering from seizures following an episode of the Pokémon anime in 1997. “Electric Soldier Porygon” has hence been banned from ever being broadcast again, and the titular Porygon has never been seen in the anime since. Even though the trigger for the seizures was Pikachu’s attacks, not Porygon’s. #PorygonWasInnocent. 

Most fans consider this a reasonable response to children being put in danger by a TV Show! Indeed, when people watch the episode on YouTube (some things simply refuse to stay lost) folks tend to agree that the lighting effects were incredibly severe and TV Tokyo were right to ban the episode. Yet in 2018 (over a decade after Electric Soldier Porygon Aired) when Pixar also caused children to have seizures in the cinema during "The Incredibles 2" the film was not pulled from screenings or revised, and anyone who suggested it should be was met with volatile abuse from so-called-fans claiming that if their creative vision involved strobe effects, then those strobe effects should be allowed to stay in, no matter how many children might be hurt in the process! 

Interesting to note, too, is that the version of the film that aired in the USA was in actual fact illegal to broadcast in the UK due to the potentially deadly nature of the strobe effects, and so an altered version had to be shown. This version still came with an official warning (as is legally required in the UK) but was at least deemed not as likely to cause seizures in those who do not usually suffer from photosensitive seizures. What this tells us, is that Pixar had a version of the film that they could have easily re-distributed to theatres but chose not to. 

Pixar easily accepted limitations on their films in terms of language and violence in order to protect the moral/mental well-being of their audience, but drew the line at anything that would actually protect their physical well-being. 

You may find yourself reading this and agreeing with the certificate ratings. You may think that the words such as "shit", "fuck", and "cunt" shouldn't be used in media aimed at under 15s. That an excessive or realistic depiction of blood and violence has no place in superhero films that are naturally going to appeal to children! And yet, in my experience, the same people who have these views do not expand them to the use of strobes. Any time the mention of films such as “Into The Spider-verse” should not include strobe effects, a plethora of people will rise up to tell you that you are wrong and terrible and bad for daring to suggest such limitations be put upon cinema! Yet as demonstrated above, these films must already undergo limitations in order to be shown to mass audiences. If the creators wanted total creative freedom, they would keep themselves to small indie productions supported by Kickstarter. Yet when a film is made for a mass market, then it must accept those mass market limitations, especially if they wish for their film to be watched by a younger audience. 

Because, at the end of the day, whilst I may be forced to hear again and again that not all animation is for children, a coming of age movie about a teenager attending a brand new high school is, fundamentally, going to be aimed at people under the age of 18. A.K.A. Children. It is also important to note, that the age in which a person is most likely to experience their first seizure is between the ages of 13 and 18, the exact age range that these films are deemed safe for in terms of emotional and mental wellbeing. 

Now, I am no parent, but if given the choice between my child hearing Peter Parker call Green Goblin a "Little Shit", or having to hold my child's limp hand as I desperately prayed for them to wake up after suffering from a seizure, I know which I would rather. 

I’m not calling for a complete rehaul of cinema certification here. I’m not advocating for more swearing, or more bloodshed. I simply believe that if certificate ratings exist to provide guidance to parents and the rest of the general public about what to expect from films, and what society decides is and is not safe for children to consume, then their physical as well as mental health should be taken into consideration. 

And if you are reading this, and still find that a production company including the word "cunt" in their film is more offensive than that film causing someone to have a Seizure, then I have terrible news for you. I think you might be just a tad bit ableist. And that maybe, you, and vast portions of the western film industry, need to start addressing that problem. Before it becomes too late, and the voices of photosensitive people are lost to cinema forever. 

For, at the end of the day, if we cannot go see these films, how can we be inspired by them?

#actually epileptic #actually disabled #spider-man #into the spiderverse #incredibles #incredibles 2 #film #cinema #blog post #cw swearing

[demonslayedher]

Low-Key Married AU fluff

Kochou said that I was disliked, so I asked her if she disliked me too. For someone so quick to have a smiling response to everything, she struggled to reply. She was the one who proposed marriage and swayed me, so I had thought that meant she had feelings for me. There would be no other way to read it. However, with as unbothered as she is by my absence, I have to wonder.

It’s been ten days since I had last contact with her. I went home to the Butterfly Mansion, but she had just departed for a mission, so I didn’t stay long so as not to trouble the girls. It may still be a few days before I can return again, but it’s always likely she’ll be busy. She’s incredible in that way, taking on all the care of our injured Corp members in addition to her Pillar missions. It must be in her personality to keep adding to what keeps her busy, like taking me in as though I looked like I needed the care. Although the times we’ve spent together have been nice, I don’t require it. My duties call for me to always be ready for battle, and I’ve always kept my heart steady.

So has she. We are Pillars first, and no amount of affection can sway us—whether an abundance or a lack.

I’m not bothered by lacking something I didn’t deserve in the first place.

Last night again, I was too late to prevent a family from being slaughtered. There were no survivors this time, aside from the eldest child who was still ravenous with a recent transformation. Having to chase him down and keep him from harming anyone else kept me off the trail of the progenitor of demons, who had to have been close by. For centuries, he’s evaded us this way over and over, sacrificing entire families to throw us off his trail. If I were to chide myself over every failure, I would have lost the ability to do anything ages ago. Each time, the anger is something I carry with me, to push myself harder the next time, and the next. Any extent more that I can push myself may be the difference to someone’s survival, no one can afford to lose their life over any of my own lost confidence.

“CAW!! TOMIOKA GIYUUUU! NEWS FOR TOMIOKA GIYUUUU!”

Each time it's a crow I think I recognize, my stomach drops. My mind is already playing the words I dread to hear, as though trying to protect my mind once I someday hear them.

"Kochou Shinobu has died."

Even if I hear them, I'm a Pillar first. That was what we promised each other. I'll always do as I must.

The crow says nothing as it delivers a letter.

YES, YES, I KNOW, THIS FANDOM HAS TURNED ME INTO SHIPPER TRASH. For this pairing, it was more specifically my own joke AU which later bit me in the back and made me start really, really enjoying GiyuShino (which, for the record, I do not consider canon). Was throwing ideas back and forth with @reicchel again the other day and so here we are with ship content!

Part of the reason I love the Low-Key Married AU (in which it's mostly canon as usual, except that Shinobu and Giyuu have been married for over a year or so, and it's not a secret but they make such little deal about it that many people don't even know they're married) is that it's a frame through which to see every interaction and either make it really, really funny, or very, very, sad. Everything was supposed to be funny, but it keeps hurting, hahaha... aaahhhh.

For instance, in a regular romcom situation, it should be funny that Kanzaburo doesn't deliver all of Giyuu's letters. Knowing these two, who might had started this whole "well, we'll be a couple when we have time" thing by actively writing regular letters, this could had simply given the impression that the other person wasn't writing as much, so they both naturally decreased frequency to match. It's a little lonely, but neither one is going to push the other for more attention.

No!! I refuse to let this post end with angst! Time for omake!!!

#I spent a few days enjoying high-brow Noh and now I'm back to shipper trash #giyushino #giyuu x shinobu #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #kocho shinobu #kochou shinobu #my art #too bad for you Tanjiro your karma in this AU had to even out somehow #also that is the happiest Giyuu I have ever drawn and it's adorable #GiyuShino Low Key Married AU

[bixbythemartian]

This is About Oceangate

...kind of. Like, heads up for people who are sick of hearing about it or are too disturbed by this, just scoot on by, that's fine.

Like everybody else my age who had a middle school special interest in the Titanic that was further fueled by the James Cameron movie (and that sounds very specific, but I absolutely know I'm not alone), I've been following this story fuckin voraciously.

I think everybody I know IRL and online is fucking sick of me talking about it. I have been actively trying not to blog much about it here because I'm so obsessed with it that I'm annoyed with myself. I would like to not be this interested in it.

But a lot of the stuff I can think of to say has been said by a lot of people already, I don't want to add to an already noisy environment if I've got nothing new to say.

So, instead, I want to talk about what I haven't seen very many people talking about- something that's stood out to me about the way the media has been handling this story from the get-go. So, finally, I'm inflicting my days long media binge on you.

The media's handling of this was bad. Like, comprehensively fucked.

For the uninformed, a primer on the situation- feel free to skip down if you know all this, there's a bulleted list right after I get done with this part, look for that. But some of this is important to the terms I use, so I wanted to lay it out. (Also I just want to get a lot of this out of my system, please just let me have this.)

The Titan is a 'cyclops-class' submersible. As far as I can tell, 'cyclops-class' is unique to the people who made this submersible, it's not a widely recognized thing.

The Titan can carry up to five passengers. It was supposed to be rated to reach depths of up to 4000 meters below sea level.

The Titan is/was owned and operated by a company known as Oceangate. There's a lot of questions regarding the safety of the submersible, where the math came from on their depth rating, and- basically everything about the Titan is in question, at this point. There's a lot of questions, but that's not what I want to talk about.

Right now. Maybe later.

A submersible is distinct from a submarine in that it requires a surface support ship for many things- the Titan moved too slow to leave port under its own power and go to the site, it didn't have enough life support to do that kind of thing, etc. A submarine is self-supporting and can operate independently. Kind of pedantic, I know, but the Titan is a submersible, not a submarine.

The Titan had a planned expedition to the wreck of the Titanic on June 18, 2023- this past Sunday, at the time of writing. The expedition was supposed to last around 10 hours. It chartered a ship- the Polar Prince- to act as mother ship, the on the surface support that the Titan requires. (The Polar Prince is owned and operated by a different company than the Titan.)

1 hour and 45 minutes into the expedition, as the Titan was still making its way to the sea floor, the Polar Prince lost all contact with the submersible.

The Titanic wreck is at just under 4000 meters deep, right around 2.5 miles.

Now, my understanding is that the Titan was not fully at the ocean floor at the point contact was lost, but it's not clear how deep the Titan was at that time. We may not ever know this for certain.

When the Titan was reported as missing to the coast guard is kind of unclear, to me- I heard 6 hours after they lost contact, I heard 12 hours after they lost contact, I saw something that indicated they reported it missing immediately- I don't know for sure. When the coast guard report comes out, I'm hoping we'll get a more accurate timeline.

However, as soon as it was reported missing, a massive search and rescue operationg was started. Complicating the search efforts were the fact that the submersible seemed to have no type of emergency distress locator beacon (I'm not sure what the precise nautical terminology would be for this).

The search included visual searching of the surface, dropping buoys with microphones, and ROVs (unmanned remote operated vehicles, deep sea robots operated by crew on ships at the surface) searching the floor, and probably some other stuff I'm forgetting. Deep sea radar etc etc, every tool they had access to.

The search and rescue concluded on Thursday (June 22, 2023) around midday, when they definitively found pieces of the destroyed submersible's pressure vessel (the part of the submersible that held pressure and kept the people safe and alive) in a debris field, approximately 1600 feet away from the Titanic.

The destroyed pressure vessel and reports from the Navy on hearing sounds consistent with implosion at the time the Titan lost contact indicates that the submersible underwent what is being called a 'catastrophic implosion'.

It is now an investigation and recovery operation, while they try to figure out what exactly went wrong.

The five men in the sub are dead. In all likelihood, they died so quickly that their nervous system didn't have time to process what happened. What happened to their bodies during this was probably gory and kind of horrifying, but it's unlikely they experienced any awareness of this.

There were five extremely wealthy men on the submersible- they were not all billionaires, but those that weren't were worth hundreds of millions of dollars. If you want a rough sketch of their biographies, there's a link here. Other than them being pretty wealthy, who they are doesn't play that much into what I want to talk about, so I don't feel the need to go into it right now. (Again, as more information comes out, I may come back for another swing.)

So, my complaint. The number of times I saw a news interview with an expert that went like this is not small:

news host interviews deep ocean expert of some variety (who is not involved in rescue)

host asks expert what chances are that the dudes are alive and will be recovered alive

expert, being honest, says something like 'slim to none'

host responds with some amount of sincere-seeming disappointment, then after interview, pivots to the ongoing search for the definitely still alive people

There were news programs with clocks counting down how much theoretical oxygen was left. There were frequent updates to news stories with nothingburgers of additions, just to pad it out. It was, if they were alive at that moment, fucking ghoulish. That they were dead makes it even more horrible.

And I cannot emphasize enough how many experts said, to generalize and paraphrase here: "Unless they are found bobbing on the surface in the next n hours, they are dead. Even if they are alive right this minute, on the bottom of the ocean, there is no hope to rescue them in time."

This is not a failure of any of the rescue entities involved, by the way. The environment they were presumed to be in- 4000 meters under sea level- is so extreme that there are very few vehicles in the world with the capability of even getting to that depth. Like, 10 or less. As far as I know, none of them are designed to do any kind of deep sea rescue- which would have involved carefully scooping up or netting the Titan and hauling it up very slowly. There's no way to transfer personnel between ships at this depth, and the Titan had the largest passenger allowance at this depth, afaik. Like, the odds were incredibly, vanishingly small that these men would live.

The media, at large, never ever really allowed that to change the way they talked about this story or treated the participants in the story. At around 11 am or noon (central daylight time) on Thursday I saw them talking about how 'oxygen is critical'.

Oxygen was critical 24 hours prior. Even by the most generous of expectations, they were out of breathable air. Given how, to put it mildly, janky the submersible seemed to have been, there was absolutely no guarantee that they had even the 96 hours that Oceangate claimed.

Their likelihood of being rescued alive from the ocean floor was minimal on Monday. By Thursday, they were dead- again, unless they were found on the surface somewhere and had managed to carefully preserve their air somehow, they were already dead.

The media didn't really allow for the reality of the situation to be clear until Oceangate and the USCG came out and said 'yeah, they're dead'.

"Well, what's the problem with that?" you might ask. "The United States Coast Guard was the one who was saying it was a rescue up until that point."

Sure. That's their job. Their job is to treat it like an urgent rescue until it is certain that it is not. A significant amount of what they do is to rescue people from doing damnfool things in the water, and keeping hope alive until they find bodies, or evidence thereof. They were doing exactly what they should be doing.

(Whether they do this to this extent for everybody lost at sea is another conversation that's absolutely worth having, as well as their role in border patrol, but I have no bone to pick with the USCG in this particular instance. They did their all until they could do no more, that's the whole point of them, this is how they're supposed to operate.)

The media was not doing what they should be doing. There's an old quote somewhere that I think is just a journalism truism (everyone I've heard talk about it says their journalism professor said it)- if someone tells you it's raining, and someone else tells you it's not, your job isn't to report that, your job is to go outside and see if it's wet.

James Cameron- director of the aforementioned Titanic movie, as well as being a Titanic and deep sea submersible expert, knew they were dead on Monday.

He reached out to some people, he found out that the mother ship lost contact with the crew as well as their location at the same instant, and that the Navy heard a sound consistent with an implosion at around that time.

The information that the Navy heard the implosion was not classified information- they heard it via a listening system that was declassified in the 90s, I believe. Like, I knew about the system just kind of casually because I know random Navy stuff. (My dad was in the Navy, it's mostly osmosis.)

The people on the scene were informed as soon as the Navy knew. (When that was, I'm not sure, except it was before Monday. Probably they had someone go back and listen to it and weren't actively monitoring it, but it's hard to say.)

The deep ocean submersible community knew, well enough that James Cameron could call a buddy and find out. He was telling people on Monday to raise a glass to them.

The media could have had this information, if they did not have it. Either they didn't want to know, or did know, and didn't say it. And I can't say for certain they were suppressing information, but I do know that they frequently downplayed any evidence that these people were dead.

I know on CNN they ran a story about FADOSS- the FlyAway Deep Ocean Salvage System- that was shipped out to Newfoundland. It arrived Wednesday afternoon. Description in the alt text, link here.

At the time this story was published, the people in the sub would have theoretically had less than 24 hours of breathable air. They hadn't even chartered a ship for the FADOSS, at this point. And the port in Newfoundland is hundreds of miles from the site. I'm not sure how many hours away but, like, hours away. I think I heard it's a 6 hour trip, but I'm not certain on that.

This system was referenced in the news as if it was going to be part of the rescue process. Very clearly, this was never going to happen. The quote, 'a process which can take a full day' is a mild understatement, here.

It could, theoretically, be done in 24 hours, but was much more likely to take longer, unless they had enough crew in Newfoundland to do round-the-clock welding.

The response to the question about recovering someone alive is a polite way of saying 'that's not what we do'. They were not part of the rescue operation and were never intended to be, as far as I can tell.

(If you're wondering what part the FADOSS is going to take in the recovery and investigation process, it's not. It's used to lift heavy objects off the floor, and the Titan broke into small enough pieces that the ROVs are believed capable of handling it. FADOSS is on its way back to wherever it is kept. I suspect it was brought out in the edge case that the submersible was found intact with dead crew, to retrieve the vessel whole, so that the families would have bodies to bury.)

Setting aside the 'oh they definitely blew up' news that seems to have been available the whole time, every single piece of evidence and expertise pointed to these people being dead, and yet the news persisted in sort of breathlessly (sorry) talking about the rescue efforts and how much time was left. They persisted in talking about how definitely still alive these people were until they could not do that anymore.

Other examples of this issue are the knocking thing. There were reports of some of the buoys picking up something that could be described as 'knocking'. Some said it was 'every thirty minutes' but we don't know how precise a measurement that was. As soon as they started talking about the knocking, I looked into it.

As it turns out, this is just a thing that happens. The sea is very noisy, and it's hard to determine the source of a sound. Some geological things sound manmade, vice versa. They had a lot of ships cooperating together to work the search area, it's possible that they were hearing noise from those, or something from an oil platform a jillion miles away, because noise travels far and is hard to pinpoint. They had this issue while searching for the sunken USS Thresher and it was one of the ships doing the searching. Given how many different moving parts there were in this search operation, it's hard to say what the knocking was. This is just a thing in the ocean, there's a lot of fuckin noise and experts can't always pinpoint it down in location or even what it might be.

This is why, even though they heard sounds that were consistent with implosion, at the time that the Titan lost total contact with the mother ship, it was still treated as if there was a live rescue operation. Because they couldn't be certain.

But the odds were extremely poor that these men were alive, and almost everybody involved knew that fairly early on. Again, the rescue operation had to go forward like they were looking for someone alive because that's how that works. The media, on the other hand, handled this in a very irresponsible way.

And, like, I know, news media is bad at being news is not some like hot new thing, I've just been building up frustration for days and so it had to come out somehow.

I'm not sure how much of this was just because they're very wealthy men- only one of whom I've ever heard of before- and how much of it was because it was a very bizarre and unique ongoing situation, how much of it was the intersection of that.

But pretty much everybody with enough knowledge to be worth talking to about this knew, like, Monday that even if they weren't dead right then, they were very unlikely to make it out alive, and watching the news wind a bunch of people up over the hopeful outcome was revolting.

Okay. We'll see if I can go 24 hours without talking about this. If you made it to the end of this absolute fucking novel, congratulations and/or I'm sorry.

#oceangate #titan submersible #this is just a personal rant about the media involved

[teyamskxawng]

Say It

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

The rundown: Lo'ak just wants you to swallow your pride and spill all of your desires.

Warnings: 18+ content, language, sprinklings of fluff and stupidity, lowkey no plot just smut, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 5.0k

A/N: There’s really no excuse for this, it’s about 5% plot and 95% shameless smut before I potentially drop a messy little love triangle fic... My @ is crying out for help lmfao I swear I have solo Neteyam fics in the works!!

Much to your delight, dinner with Lo'ak's family had become a frequent event ever since the two of you started courting. The Sullys captured your heart, and you definitely weren't going to say no to a meal that required no effort on your part, so it was a win-win situation. You were more than grateful for the family's unwavering generosity and found yourself regularly lounging around in the Sullys' tent after the meal was said and done.

Today was no different. As the aromas of the evening's feast lingered in the air, intermingling with the pleasant sounds of easy-going conversation, you felt completely content. 

Further into the tent, Neytiri busied herself with cleaning the remains of dinner–collecting plates and bowls ready for washing. Meanwhile, Kiri assisted Tuk in getting ready for bed by dragging a wet cloth across the girl's lively little face, which somehow (always) ended up smeared with food after mealtimes.

You had to stifle your laughter as you watched Kiri struggle to pluck a morsel of food from one of Tuk's braids. The sight caught Lo'ak's attention, who teasingly nudged you underneath the thick woven throw-over that covered your adjacent legs from your shared spot on the ground.

Sitting across from you were Jake and Neteyam. After every one of your dinner visits, Jake would somehow find a way to bring the three of you together to discuss whatever warrior matters were on his mind that day. And Neytiri would always roll her eyes at her husband's relentless enthusiasm, claiming he wasn't raising an army, but you found it all endearing nonetheless.

Jake was clearly just excited to rant about military tactics and strategies with the three of you, who had all matured into warriors and were no longer clueless little kids. He valued your thoughts and opinions on new training methods, upcoming missions, and strategic planning–topics that were far over your heads before you reached adulthood.

That evening, Jake seemed especially excited about a new gadget he explained he'd get to pick up from the avatar camp the next day. It was called a three-dee-geo something. You honestly had no idea what it was, and you didn't really care. It sounded like something straight out of the RDA's playbook; therefore, you didn't give a shit.

However, Neteyam clearly did. 

He was entirely captivated by his father's description of the strange device's use, nodding along to every word and firing off a series of probably very perceptive questions. Every inquiry received Jake's full attention; it was clear that he respected his son's keen interest in the matter.

You'd assumed that whatever Jake and Neteyam were discussing had to do with the current, or possibly future, affairs of the olo'eyktan. Whatever their discussion, it had nothing to do with you, so your mind began to wander for some semblance of entertainment elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, your gaze drifted toward Lo'ak, who sat beside you, wearing an expression that screamed boredom. And you could definitely fix that. 

A quick scan of the tent assured you that everyone else was preoccupied, lost in their own activities.

As casually as you could, you slid closer to Lo'ak's side and gently placed your hand on his knee underneath your shared covering. With a feather-light touch, your finger traced small circles near the bony joint–a seemingly innocent, unordinary gesture.

But your little game was far from over. With a final little drum of your fingertips on Lo'ak's knee, you subtly let your hand shift, continuing its journey up the expanse of his leg.

Lo'ak managed to maintain his composure with admittedly impressive skill, but a barely perceptible catch in his breath betrayed his unbothered demeanor. Your hand continued its path until it stopped just shy of the edge of his loincloth; only then did Lo'ak shoot a questioning glance your way, trying to decipher precisely what the fuck you were doing through some form of telepathic guesswork.

Feigning innocence, you flashed him a sweet smile. "You okay, Lo'ak?" you asked softly, reveling in your momentary distraction. Obviously, there was no way you would escalate the situation any further underneath your shared blanket. Not with Lo'ak's entire family in the tent and Jake going on and on to Neteyam about something or the other that Norm had said earlier that day. You weren't stupid–you had enough sense to recognize the limits.

But still, you couldn't resist letting your fingers continue leisurely tracing little patterns on Lo'ak's thigh, or allowing your free hand to linger just a tad too long to be considered innocent as you reached out to brush aside a stray braid from his purpling face. It wasn't that cruel.

Clearly, Lo'ak seemed to think otherwise. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two later that he stood up from the spot you two shared on the floor. Pulling you up by your arm, he made a half-hearted excuse about helping you with some non-existent chore at your tent before the day ended. Left with no other option but to play along, you were honestly surprised that nobody even raised an eye at the pair of you as you trailed behind Lo'ak, stepping out of the tent into the cool embrace of nightfall.

Lo'ak began walking in the direction of your tent without uttering a single word, and you had to jog a few paces to catch up with his quick stride. He was walking like he genuinely had somewhere to be, though you knew he didn't. You finally reached his side, trying and failing to bite back your smile as you watched his stony profile. Deciding to play innocent, you remarked, "I didn't know I had chores to finish back at my place." 

Lo'ak kept a straight face for about two seconds before his little facade broke. He let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head at the path in front of him. Besides that, he remained quiet all the way to your tent before hastily entering on his own.

You remained standing there, just outside the threshold, giving yourself a moment to compose yourself for what you knew was coming. Then, trying not to give away just how eager you felt about Lo'ak's impromptu night visit, you bit the inside of your cheek as you peeled back the enclosure to your tent.

The moment you stepped inside, Lo'ak was on you with a searing kiss. The sheer intensity of it all stole the air from your lungs and made you stumble backward a little, but Lo'ak was swift to steady you with a firm hand on your waist. He was literally devouring you, his lips seeming to consume yours entirely, and as much as you were trying to pretend otherwise, you were already so far gone.

Once Lo'ak released your lips, he didn't waste any time laying a trail of fiery kisses from your jawline all the way down to your neck. The sensation of his touch coaxed an unexpectedly loud moan to escape from deep within your throat. You tried to play it off, because you were supposed to be the one leaving him all disoriented–not the other way around. But as Lo'ak's teeth grazed the curve of your collarbone, you found yourself struggling to regain control over your breathing.

With a shaky breathlessness laced in your voice, you managed to ask him, "Eager?" Yet there was no break in Lo'ak's dedication as he continued at that sensitive spot on your neck. Nonchalantly humming an affirmative "mhm" in response to your question, his hands glided up from your waist and along the small of your back, drawing you closer to the warmth of his embrace.

Instinctively, your body arched into him, desperate for more of the intoxicating touch that left your skin tingling in its wake. Then, half-teasingly, half out of genuine curiosity, you asked, "Is it your rut?" 

You knew there was something different about Lo'ak. His actions were notably more assertive and touchy–his hands roaming eagerly and his motions feeling swifter than usual–so it wouldn't have been a shock if he'd confirmed that it was indeed his rut. 

But he didn't. Instead, he offered another low rumble: "nuh-uh," still sincere in its denial but masking any deeper thoughts he might've secretly harbored.

As Lo'ak's hands brushed under the delicate beaded fabric of your top, his fingers skillfully cupping your breasts, you shuddered under the pleasant sensation. His thumbs glided delicately across your nipples while his lips graced your chest with a flurry of soft kisses. Driven by passion, he didn't even bother to remove your top. It was like he was determined to press his lips against any part of your body within his reach. And you were losing your mind trying to suppress your noises of pleasure.

Lo'ak rarely acted this way. The Lo'ak in front of you–silent and all-consuming in the heat of the moment–was a stark contrast from his usual approach. Though he'd never admit it, Lo'ak was usually so soft. He'd still worship your body like he was now, but he'd treat you with gentle tenderness, whispering sweet praises and little declarations of love into the nape of your neck. You liked both manifestations of his affection equally and couldn't imagine favoring one over the other. Regardless of the approach, he still brought you over that edge of ecstasy each time, no matter what.

But at that moment, you honestly weren't even sure if Lo'ak was going to do something or if he was just planning on mercilessly teasing you after your little stunt back at dinner. Just the thought of being left high and dry was too much for you. Embarrassed by the broken noise that echoed from within your soul, you reached out for Lo'ak—your fingernails digging into his arms with a force probably teetering on the edge of pain. You couldn't hold back anymore; curiosity and desire were tugging at your every sense.

"Lo'ak?" Your voice quivered with impatience as you finally broke the silence. "Do you plan on using actual words anytime soon?"

You were tired of his elusive little games–you needed him so badly, and he knew that. With every fiber of your being shouting out for that connection, it felt like nothing was more important than fulfilling your insatiable hunger.

Lo'ak suddenly halted his fervent attention on your chest, and you were kind of really sad about that. Without his electrifying touch, you felt completely bare, an emptiness begging to be filled. Almost instinctively, your hand reached out to draw him close again, yet his following words stopped you in your tracks. It was like he could read your mind. Or he was just equally as horny as you were. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Lo'ak inquired, his voice raw and unrestrained. His dark, dilated pupils seemed to pierce straight into the depths of your soul. Your response came in the form of a frantic nod, any semblance of composure vanishing just like that. Lo'ak's wide grin conveyed his satisfaction.

For a fleeting moment–the briefest of hushed pauses–Lo'ak softened, leaning in and gracing your lips with a gentle kiss that sent waves of warmth radiating throughout your body. The tender playfulness with which he nipped at your bottom lip left you feeling all weak and pliant in his embrace, like you were melting into his touch. He pulled back just enough to gaze at your face, and you didn't even want to know what you looked like. 

Lo'ak's teasing question broke through the haze: "But I'm the one who has to use their words?" His eyes danced with mirth as they met yours.

Your automatic response of "shut up" was practically involuntary, like a knee-jerk reaction. Lo'ak gave you a quizzical look at your continually contradicting words before chuckling softly, shaking his head in bemusement, and hungrily seeking out your lips in another deep kiss—passionate, messy, and so fucking good. Caught up in his intoxicating lips, it felt like there was nothing but the two of you. Everything else had been washed away by the intensity of the desire burning within you. There was no room for thoughts or hesitation, only instinct.

Eager to be even closer to Lo'ak, you sought any friction that would alleviate the intense feeling between your legs. Lo'ak, knowing you inside and out, recognized your need almost instantly. He nestled his leg right between your thighs, giving you the pressure you so desperately sought. As your lips separated from his, your mouth fell open in a silent moan, surrendering to the blissful sensation.

Your fingers eagerly searched for some kind of purchase on Lo'ak's back. Rubbing yourself against the firm muscle of his thigh, you became completely lost in the exquisite buildup of pleasure. It wasn't long before you absentmindedly felt Lo'ak's rigid length pressing into your stomach, followed by another press–the second time a bit more deliberate than the first. "Shit, y/n," Lo'ak groaned, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he dipped his head back in pleasure. Both of your breaths grew shallow and rapid, filling the tent with a symphony of pants and gasps.

"You feel what you do to me?" Lo'ak asked in a low voice, highlighting his words by slowly grinding his hips into you. It was a stupid question because you could obviously feel every inch of him. It'd be impossible not to. It felt like a third arm with the way it was poking into you. But your ability to form any kind of snarky response dissolved as soon as Lo'ak locked your lips together again, his tongue licking in your mouth with practiced ease and stealing away what little breath had returned to your lungs.

The atmosphere inside the tent was electrifying; both of you were entangled in a whirlwind of carnal desire and overwhelming passion. The intimacy between you two intensified with every lingering touch and slide of your bodies, making it feel like time had stopped just for that beautiful moment of raw connection.

Lo'ak tugged you down with him in a single swift motion, your back gently meeting the ground beneath you. He positioned himself above you, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over every inch of your body. His curiosity seemed endless as his hands leisurely explored their way up your legs, his fingers playfully brushing against the tender insides of your thighs.

The tantalizing dance his hands performed was agonizingly teasing; you could feel his touch so close, yet so far from where you truly desired him. Unable to endure it any longer, you called out to him firmly, "Lo'ak."

"Yeah?" he asked in reply, even though he knew damn well that your utterance of his name didn't warrant an actual verbal response. As your heart pounded furiously within your chest, you watched Lo'ak through half-lidded eyes. A tiny smirk adorned his face as he deliberately, teasingly, squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Come on," you implored him impatiently, reaching to tug at his loincloth in an attempt to speed up the progression of events. However, Lo'ak had other ideas in store for you. He intercepted your advances by grasping your hands with his and then sitting upright on his knees, towering over your prone figure and leaving your body void of his touch.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he said, and you had to resist the urge to kick him in the stomach. Your jaw clenched as you breathed out a heavy, frustrated sigh, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. You brought your arm up, covering your face with the crook of your elbow. You hated Lo'ak.

"Stop it," you mumbled into your arm, your voice coming out all muffled from how tight your face was pressed against your skin. Despite the lack of clarity in your words, Lo'ak heard your plea as loud as day, evident by the huff of laughter that escaped his lips. Taking your request literally, he released his grip on your hands and began straightening himself from his position on his knees.

Your heart practically skipped a beat at the thought of being left there; all wound up and unsatisfied. Panicking, you hastily sat up and met Lo'ak's gaze with wide eyes filled with trepidation. "No! Just—" your voice trailed off as soon as his intense stare locked onto yours. It was impossible not to avert your gaze from his piercing eyes; you knew that in this game of wills, you were on the losing end.

As eager as you always were for intimacy with Lo'ak, admitting that aloud turned you into a helpless wreck each time. Lo'ak knew that fact all too well (and secretly really loved it), using it as an opportunity to make you confront your own wishes—encouraging you to become as confident and bold with yourself as you always were when interacting with him.

He always managed to coax out what he wanted to hear from you—unearthing those hidden desires nestled beneath your embarrassment—and tonight would be no different.

With heaving breaths and only the slightest hint of hesitation, you finally mustered the courage to meet his piercing gaze. In an almost inaudible voice, you admitted, "I want you inside me." The heat that immediately surged to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, but your determination didn't waver. And it paid off. Lo'ak's eyes sparkled with delight as he gently chided, "You could've just said that earlier." All the while, he reached for your lower half and skillfully undid the knots holding your loincloth in place. Despite the mounting tension, he continued to move at an irritatingly slow pace, obviously enjoying the opportunity to tease you for being so hard-headed.

As he carried on with his taunting antics, Lo'ak continued, "Didn't have to do all of that back at dinner," his hands lingering on the now loose ties of your loincloth. He seemed to be relishing in the disheveled state you'd found yourself in. You were a mess, even though he barely laid a hand on you. Growing impatient with his antics and eager to hasten his movements, you reached up and removed your top, baring your chest completely before him.

Lo'ak's eyebrows shot up at the sight, pleasantly surprised by your sudden move. It seemed your decision had spurred him into action; there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor as he finally picked up the pace. Without further delay, he pulled off your loincloth and tossed it carelessly somewhere off to the side. His full attention was now focused on you—your body exposed under his intense scrutiny.

The way Lo'ak's eyes roamed over you left no doubt that he was utterly captivated. He studied every inch of you with an almost reverential appreciation: admiring each curve, tracing every stripe with his eyes, lingering over every glowing freckle that adorned your moonlit form. He seemed compelled to commit every minor detail to memory, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your heart stop beating.

As Lo'ak's eyes finally returned to meet yours again, he tenderly leaned toward your body. You practically trembled under his touch as his warm breath caressed your skin. His lips began to trace a line up your stomach, its muscles trembling in anticipation. He kissed his way around each of your breasts with such care, and all you could do was stare at the sight of him in awe. It was impossible to look away as you watched him, breathlessly entranced and deeply captivated by love. There was something ineffably beautiful about the way Lo'ak cherished your body, treating it like it was something divine. 

Your eyes closed involuntarily due to the sheer pleasure coursing through you, so it was the sound, rather than the sight, of Lo'ak removing his loincloth that caught your attention. The light rustling of fabric, accompanied by its gentle thud against the floor, ignited something primal within the depths of your being. The sensation intensified when he inched closer and nestled between your thighs, softly parting them further with his own knees. You found yourself teetering on the edge of begging for it.

Fortunately, Lo'ak sensed the urgency just as much as you did. He showed no hesitation or restraint, clearly just as fervent and desperate for that intimate connection as you were yourself. 

Without wasting any time, he aligned himself with your entrance, his eyes closing as he slowly filled you entirely. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sensation of being filled so wholly—the stretch feeling absolutely exquisite, his length fitting just right. It was as if two parts of one soul had longed to reunite and found solace together at last. 

Lo'ak gently leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple, tenderly whispering "so perfect" into the warmth of your flushed skin. And that was the only way you could describe the moment. A few seconds passed before he pulled away, only to get right to it. He withdrew almost entirely before sinking back in with enough force to jolt your entire body.

He continued to fuck you, establishing a steady rhythm as he moved within you. Each calculated thrust left you reeling, a testament to just how much you loved having him. And the love you shared was palpable—your heart pounded fiercely in your chest as if threatening to break free, and you felt like you were going to melt straight through the floor beneath you.

Lo'ak shifted in search of a more advantageous angle to absolutely ruin you. He used an arm to cradle your leg, hitching it higher while simultaneously pressing his chest further into yours—practically folding you in half. The change in position allowed him to pinpoint that sweet bundle of nerves deep within you. With precision. Over and over again. He hit that magical spot repeatedly, each powerful drive into you leaving you gasping for air.

"Lo'ak," you exhaled breathlessly, incapable of forming any semblance of coherent thought as he tightened his unrelenting grip around your waist. 

Lo'ak's very essence seemed to engulf you; within and around you, every fiber of your being cried out for him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. You had to reach out and cling onto Lo'ak's back to ground yourself to reality. 

But your body quickly approached its limit. You were so close, and that familiar warmth building at your core began cascading outward, threatening to consume every inch of you.

Underneath Lo'ak's strong frame, you felt feather-light and completely limp. It was like all tension had leeched from your muscles, leaving only a wonderful sense of lethargy. Lo'ak's every movement sent pulsating shivers up and down your spine, stealing your breath away. With each whispered curse and quiet moan into the night air, you could sense the end approaching faster than you ever wanted it to.

"Don't stop," you pleaded urgently, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. "I'm so close." 

Your words seemed to ignite something within Lo'ak as his chest heaved at the sound of them. His already intense efforts intensified further, as if he sought to split you in half with each of his powerful thrusts. As the passion continued to build between you, all that mattered was being there in that moment—raw, intense, and incredibly beautiful. The overwhelming sensation was accompanied by the wet slickness and the obscenely loud noises that intensified and echoed into the night.

It was then that you thanked Eywa–not for the first time–that no close neighbors resided near your home. That would not be an intrusion of privacy anyone would appreciate. That was also the last thing you remembered as your climax approached with lightning speed, everything around you beginning to fade away, leaving behind only an indiscernible haze.

A broken noise rose from your throat and dissolved into nothingness just as quickly as it had appeared. Your vision blurred around the edges, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the beautiful sensations enveloping your body. Every inch of your body tensed at once, except for the rhythmically spasming clench of your walls around Lo'ak's length.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity enveloping both of you, Lo'ak's thrusts faltered momentarily. He dipped his head forward until it gently rested against yours, his breath coming in rapid gasps at the overwhelming feeling of your tight grip around him as you rode out your high.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to mutter between labored breaths. The warmth of his exhalation tickled your face, sending an army of goosebumps marching down your arms in response. 

Lo'ak gradually ascended, firmly hovering above you as his gaze jumped between your euphoric expression and your bodies' intimate connection. He seemed entirely captivated by the sight before him–it was as if he couldn't get enough of the view. 

With one final slide inside you, he pulled out, his withdrawal accompanied by a resonant wet pop and a shudder-inducing exhale. His hand instinctively reached down to control the base of his shaft, glistening with your shared warmth. Swift and eager strokes filled the air with urgency while Lo'ak's concentrated gaze danced all over your body.

Although you were entirely spent by that point, you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of him taking in every inch of you. With considerable determination, you lifted your body upward until you met him on your knees, close enough to lightly reach out and brush a hand against his hip for support.

As your other hand intermingled with Lo'ak's at his base, he reciprocated by tenderly gripping your waist—and not a moment too soon—since he was now leaning down to meet your lips in yet another kiss. The sweet union between the two of you was no less passionate for all its languidness—a hazy melding of mouths and sighs that sometimes sidestepped lips entirely in favor of cheeks or chins. But it didn't even matter. You were both completely entranced within your shared exchange of blissful love.

Meanwhile, Lo'ak's flushed cock pulsed within your grasp; each minute stroke, twist, and squeeze of his length only pushed him further toward the edge. 

There was a continuous flow of his arousal gently streaming from his tip. You took the time to gather it up with your thumb and use it to help with the slide of your hand, the sensitivity of your touch causing Lo'ak to release a stream of deep moans. Your smile broadened at the sound. You loved how yielding he always was under your touch.

Lo'ak's reactions captivated you–the clenching of the muscles in his stomach with every labored breath he took, every deft slide of your hand; the way he met your rhythmic pumps with each coordinated thrust of his hips; the way his hand continued to linger at the base of his shaft, his fingers brushing against yours with each stroke. He was practically throbbing in your hand, just begging for release.

A wicked part of you toyed with the idea of getting revenge against Lo'ak–removing your touch and cruelly making him ask you to let him finish. But you ultimately decided to save that devious thought for another day when you'd really need it.

Instead, you concentrated on heightening Lo'ak's pleasure. You increased the tempo of your strokes and focused even more on his sensitive tip, tightening your grasp and flicking your wrist with each upward glide, just the way you knew he liked it. It always made Lo'ak lose his mind, and this time was no different.

His grip on your waist grew firmer; it was clear how much he relished the moment as rough, nearly incomprehensible sentiments tumbled from his lips: "So good, y/n," he said; "Holy shit, you have no idea;" and "Just like that." 

As you leaned in closer, you placed a line of soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. He immediately tilted his head back to give you better access, and a content hum escaped your lips as you smiled against his skin, reveling in how the situation had shifted in your favor. Before long, you felt the warmth of his release running down your clenched fist, accompanied by the sound of Lo'ak's breathy moans of pleasure filling the air.

You lovingly continued to stroke him, guiding him through his climax and ensuring every last drop was expertly coaxed out. It wasn't until Lo'ak had to physically reach out and grab your hand that you finally stopped. "Okay. Alright," he managed to say between breaths, with a slight tremor in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by your keen senses.

"You're shaking, Lo'ak," you pointed out unnecessarily, placing your free hand on his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart. The smile on your face made it clear that genuine concern wasn't the driving force behind your words. Despite all that, Lo'ak appeared unfazed–or at least was doing a really good job of concealing any embarrassment he might have felt. The corners of his lips twitched up in a grin, and you really should've anticipated his next words. 

"I don't have to remind you how much you were shaking when I was–"

Not allowing him to finish that thought, you quickly placed a firm hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. Shaking your head at him in embarrassed amusement, you replied with feigned annoyance, "You're right; you don't."

Lo'ak's laughter bubbled up despite your efforts to hush him, the breathy sound barely muffled by your palm. Although you pretended to be annoyed, his infectious joy was enough to pull a soft laugh from your chest. As the laughter subsided and your shared amusement dwindled down to comfortable silence, Lo'ak gently maneuvered your hand away from his mouth before you accidentally suffocated him to death. He tenderly held that same hand, cradling it with his firm yet gentle grip.

"One day, you're gonna ask for it without my help," he says with absolute conviction as if it's a fact set in stone.

"No, I'm not," you protest with another shake of your head, your voice filled with stubborn resolve. 

But there he was, looking at you with his big yellow eyes and wide toothy grin. It was slowly crumbling your composure, and deep down, you knew he was right. It took everything inside you to suppress the lovesick grin that threatened to edge its way across your face.

end

#teyamskxawng #teyamskxawng’s fics #lo'ak x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak fluff #lo'ak fluff #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2022 #atwow #lo'ak x y/n #lo’ak x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo’ak #lo'ak fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #james cameron avatar #lo’ak smut #lo'ak smut

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around. 

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 

“Hello,” Y/n began. 

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 

"My nephew does too!" 

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 

Left, right, left again, right again. 

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 

Damn! 

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 

He seceded first! HA! She won! 

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

[limarieb]

love is a double-edged sword

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader (Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision)

Summary: Falling in love with your presumed-to-be-straight best friend could have been possibly the worst, most cliché thing you have ever done. But, it could also have been the best.

Warnings: internalized homophobia, coming out, occasional swearing used, brief mention of non-consensual kiss

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: ahh my tumblr debut! this was the first mcu fic i ever wrote — i hope you guys enjoy.

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Since the age of six, if anyone asked you who your best friend was, you would proudly respond, “Wanda Maximoff”; she would do the same with your name.

But, you’re not exactly sure when your feelings for her become less friendly.

Maybe it was one of those times she had gone off on a tangent and explained the latest book she read, saying how much you’d “love it if you just listened to her and read the damn book.” You found her passion for stories endearing, perhaps even admirable. Maybe it was Field Day during the seventh grade; the outside air was plagued by blistering heat, but — with her long, brunette hair tied up in a high ponytail — she made sweating look good . Maybe it was the fact that, when you came out to your family last year, she had comforted you afterward; she held your face in her hands, wiped your tears with her two thumbs, and told you any girl would be lucky to have you.

You were sure at this moment that you did not want “any girl,” however, because the only girl you wanted was the one sitting in front of you.

You mistakenly let out a scoff. Of course, you would fall victim to the “lesbian falls for the straight best friend” trope. Wanda, on the other hand, thought the scoff was a response to her; thus, she pulled you into a tight hug, trying to convey how deeply she cares for you.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” she whispered into your ear. “One day, some girl is going to love you for you .”

You didn’t reply.

It was the second to last day of your junior year in high school. Thankfully, you had finished your exams, but the school required everyone to attend until the last day anyway.

It’s not like you could’ve done much for summer anyways; it has been raining all week, and it’s not like you got your license, nor do you even own a car. Additionally, you reasoned there could be far worse places to be in this moment, like home.

As you closed your locker, a mischievous brunette was lingering on the other side.

“Hello, Wanda. What can I do you for on this very fine day?” you said, sarcastically putting emphasis on the “very fine” part of the question.

She chuckled as she shook her head, “Nothing, at least not with that attitude.”

“Fine,” you gave in quickly, in pursuit of the real reason behind this conversation. “Seriously, though, what has Wanda Maximoff in such a chipper mood during school hours?”

Somehow, your question made her smile grow wider. “You’ll never guess what happened this morning,” she began. “Vision asked me out.”

Now, that caught your attention, “What?”

“Yeah, you know Tony, right? He’s that annoying rich kid in our class. Anyways, he’s throwing some sort of party for the end of the year and, since he and Vision are essentially best friends, Vision asked me to go to the party with him.”

You were only able to get one word out: “Wow.”

Noticing your lack of enthusiasm, Wanda turned her body completely towards you, “What? What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for me?”

Truthfully, you were not excited for her. It’s not as if you did not know of Wanda’s infatuation with Vision; in fact, you could probably never forget the number of times she would talk to you about his “beautiful, blonde hair” and “pretty eyes.” Vision was not necessarily a bad kid, but you just hate that she just couldn’t like you like that.

It’s not like you could share this desire with your best friend either; ergo, you opted to put on a brave face and say, “Of course, I’m excited for you.” And, in case she didn’t believe you, you playfully elbowed her side, “If it goes well, I better be the maid of honor.”

You know that had convinced her, for she bit her lip and nodded excitedly.

“Oh,” Wanda started. “One more thing…”

As you looked at the mansion that stood before you, filled to the brim with a plethora of drunk teenagers, you uttered to yourself, “I don’t know why I let her talk me into coming to this. One day, I am going to have to stop agreeing with her on everything.”

You know you wouldn’t — if she wanted something, you’d make sure she’d get it. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from finding situations such as this annoying.

You walked through the front door. Immediately, your senses were overwhelmed by the strong smell of alcohol and the loud music blasting in the atmosphere. You attempted to push through to get through the crowd of people and find the person responsible for your presence. Before you could get much further, you felt another person grab and pull your wrist from behind, forcing you to turn around.

Wanda.

“Y/N, you came!” she tried to yell over the music. You could tell she wasn’t drunk, but she had definitely consumed something alcoholic. You failed to get a word in before she continued to pull you by the hand to venture further into the crowd of people, “Come on, let’s go dance!”

Moments later, you found yourself awkwardly “dancing” with your best friend. Although, she seemed to be having the time of her life. When she noticed your stiffness, she brought you closer to her, allowing you to hear her say, “Don’t worry about everyone else… Just dance with me!” 

So, you did. You let go of any apprehensions, allowing yourself to move freely with the music and the girl in front of you.

Meanwhile, Vision stood across the room with a drink in hand. Not really thrilled by what he was seeing occurring between you and Wanda, he decided to end it. Drunkenly strolling over to you two, he pulled her from your grasp and into (in your unbiased opinion) one of the grossest, sloppiest kisses you had ever witnessed. 

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, partly due to the fact that there wasn’t exactly a reason to be envious of him anyways. So, you stood there awkwardly once more, pushing the jealousy down within you.

Wanda, on the other hand, was not thrilled by the action either. She knew he was drunk, tasting the alcohol the minute he forcefully placed his lips on hers. Quickly, she pulled away, “What the fuck, Vision? What was that?”

With a smirk aimed at you, he replied, “What do you mean?” She scowled, “You can’t just do that! Why would you ever think that was okay?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Now, she was the one in a state of confusion, yet hers was not fake, “What do you mean?”

“Y/N,” his retort made you look down at your old, worn-out sneakers. You weren’t entirely sure what direction this was all going, but you already knew that you did not like it.

“What about her, Vision?” “She’s obviously into you. I saw how you two were dancing together. My friends saw it, too. How is that supposed to make me feel, Wanda?”

Despite not being able to look up due to the embarrassment, you could feel the anger rolling off of Wanda’s body, “That is so not true, Vision, and you know it! Why are you acting so insecure about it, anyway? She’s my best friend, and I’m not even gay !”

You know she didn’t mean it like that , but something about the way she yelled the last part at the teenage boy came with a sort of venom — as if “gay” was synonymous with “bad.”

“You know what, Wanda? I’m done with this argument. You choose now : me or Y/N.”

That took Wanda aback, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, Vision,” she began. “That’s not fair, I refuse to choose between you and my best friend.”

“Either you choose me, and we can continue dating, or you choose her .”

A moment passed. In an attempt to not outwardly demonstrate the pain, you clamped your eyes shut. Honestly, you were about to walk away, accept defeat, and simply pretend this night never happened in the first place; you would have let her know later that it was alright, that if she wanted him, she could have him without someone like her standing in her way. Before she could move her feet to leave, however, she heard Wanda finally speak: “Fine, then. I choose her.”

Upon her decision being made, you finally looked up with wide eyes. Vision had the same wide eyes as you, but his face was paling from the initial rageful red that painted it moments earlier. Now, you shared two things with him: your love for Wanda and the visible shock that she chose you over him. It took every fiber of your being to not smile, as you knew now was not the time to celebrate such a victory.

Before another poisonous comment could be passed between the two, Tony stepped through the crowd that had surrounded you three. “Okay, man. That’s enough. Let’s go,” he ushered Vision away from the scene.

The crowd dissipated, leaving your best friend standing there alone. You took their exit as an opportunity to make sure Wanda was alright. You tried to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder. Maybe it was to pull her into one of your two’s infamously tight hugs; maybe it was to just let her know you were just there . You don’t know why you reached for her, but you didn’t really think before acting since it just felt like the most natural thing to do for you. Immediately, your hand was shrugged off by the brunette. Your body began to feel hot, and tears started to form in your eyes. You refused to cry, though, instead choosing to look down at your feet once more and begin your journey back home.

Within minutes you were back in the comfort of your own bed. With a harsh swallow, you continuously replayed the events of tonight over and over again. You laid there, reminiscing on just how utterly humiliated and alone you felt.

Even then in your state of depression and self-pity, you only hoped Wanda was doing okay.

Wanda left the party soon after you did. Similarly, she went home and found herself collapsed in her bed.

She didn’t bother changing out of her clothes, nor did she take off her makeup. Internally, she wishes that the bed would swallow her in order to leave the ramifications of tonight as a “potential” occurrence rather than an “actual.” She just doesn’t understand why: why he would do something like that; why the universe hates her; why she turned you away when she knew you did nothing wrong.

A brief, soft knock at her bedroom door removed her from her cyclical round of thoughts. “Come in,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to carry across the room like it usually does. 

The door creaked open slowly, revealing her twin brother standing on the other side. “Hey, сестра,” he began, approaching her bed with caution and sitting beside where her legs laid. “How are you doing?” [sestra | sister]

She doesn’t acquire the information about how exactly he learned about the events of tonight, perhaps from some friends of his that went to the party. Instead, she chuckled humorlessly, “How do you think I feel, Pietro? I think I just lost my best friend and the guy I liked in one night.”

“‘The guy you liked’? You mean, Vision?” he wondered. “Honestly, I didn’t like him anyway. You didn’t lose much on that front. But, what happened with Y/N? You guys never fight.”

“I don’t even know, Pietro. One minute, we’re just dancing and having fun because you know Y/N — she never comes to parties. I wanted to make the most of the night. As we were dancing, though, Vision walked up to us, stole me from her, and just kissed me. Not only was it without my consent and out of spite, but it was just gross.”

The latter statement made the twin brother laugh. She continued, “I pulled away quickly because I was just so angry , you know? Like why did he think he could just do that? So, I asked him, which caused us to have an argument in the middle of the party. In the end, he gave me an ultimatum: him or Y/N. Of course, I chose her because… I don’t know, Y/N is Y/N.”

He sat there next to her, listening intently. He sighed, “Yeah, but what happened between you and Y/N ?”

She closed her eyes, “I don’t know .” The statement wasn’t a lie because she truly did not understand why she reacted the way she did towards you, her best friend. The tears started flowing again, soon turning into a set of sobs that ultimately racked her body. Her brother swiftly leaned down, taking his sister into his arms; she continued to cry into his chest for what felt like hours.

After some time had passed, the sobs slowed down and transformed into sniffles. Pietro looked down at his sister, “What’s wrong?”

She refused to look up, but she knew she had to get this off her chest. “Pietro,” she released in a single breath. He affirmed to her to continue, “I think… I think I’m gay.” There was another beat of silence before she slowly proceeded once more, “I think I like Y/N.”

There it was: the beast of the truth that was unknowingly weighing her down was finally released. 

If it was even possible, Pietro pulled her closer in his embrace. Though he was aware that discussions of sexuality were becoming increasingly accepted and treated as an insignificant portion of someone’s life, he also knew that this was a big deal for her . He acknowledged such a fact, “I’m proud of you, Wanda, and I’m glad you told me, especially because I know it must have been difficult for you to realize and go through this on your own — even without Y/N… is this what caused the rift between you two? Did you tell her, and she rejected you?”

She scoffed, “Quite the opposite, actually; Vision accused her of liking me — which she probably doesn’t — but I just stood there, screaming at him that we were ‘just friends’ and that I ‘wasn’t even gay.’ You should’ve seen her when I shrugged her away after, Pietro. She looked so hurt . I hurt her.”

“You want to know how to fix this?” he asked, quickly followed by a confident nod from her. “You have to talk to her. Even if she didn’t like you, this is not something to lose such a close friendship over. For the record, though, she does like you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and that is definitely someone in love.”

Her head snapped up at the accusation, meeting the smirk that was plastered on his face. If he was right, she really messed up. She urgently needed to see you, to tell you once and for all how she truly feels about you; thus, she told her brother that she was going to find you and left him and his smirk behind.

Wanda didn’t have a clue about what she was going to say when she saw you; she didn’t have a script, nor did she have any guidelines to follow. She just knew she had to see you , only then would everything make sense for her.

You were on the verge of sleep when you could feel the vibrations coming from your phone. In a sleepy haze, you picked up the phone. The brightness made you unexpectedly squint your eyes, but the Caller ID was unmistakable: Wanda Maximoff. 

You weren’t sure what exactly to do in this situation. On one hand, you knew you could not face another rejection, specifically from her. It would probably break you beyond repair. On the other hand, you could never say no to Wanda, even if it meant answering her calls at the most random times of the day. 

So, you shakily tapped the green button and pulled the phone close to your ear.

“Hello? Y/N?” you could hear Wanda ask on the other side of the line.

“Hi,” you responded back. Wanda noted how soft your voice sounded. Normally, she would consider such softness an adorable trait of yours, but she knows the reason behind it. She knows it was her fault that you felt insecure at that moment.

“I’m– Um, I’m outside; can you come downstairs to open the door?” Wanda asked. Now, you were almost completely awake; the question made you raise your eyebrows in astonishment. 

Despite your initial surprise, you muttered a quiet approval that you would meet her at the door and made your way downstairs. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You don’t know what she’s going to say to you. You unlock the door and reach for the handle of the door, slowly turning it and pulling the wooden door towards you until you’re able to see Wanda on your front doorstep. Even with the low amount of yellow light coming from the bulb outside the door and the makeup visibly smeared on her face (probably from crying, you note), all you can think about is just how pretty she looks.

Her eyes look up to meet yours, causing your breath to hitch for a second. You weren’t certain about how to go about this, “Uh, do you want to come in? We’d have to go up to my room quietly because my parents are home.”

She accepted the invite, nodding her head hesitantly. The two of you walked upstairs, through the hall, back to where you had initially been laying in your bed and wallowing in your pity. You got back in your bed and crossed your legs as you sat against the headboard. Wanda, however, did not sit alongside you like she usually does; instead, she paced around your room. It was obvious that she was stuck in a state of stress and anxiety that you had never seen, even when she failed that one test back in sophomore year.

Your eyes trailed back and forth as you observed her pacing; suddenly, she came to a stop in front of the bed. Her body was not facing you, rather it faced the way that she had been walking moments prior. She started to play with the rings littered on her various fingers, which you had learned early on that it was a nervous habit of hers. You chose to remain quiet and to let her speak when she was ready due to the evidently difficult subject matter, but you couldn’t help your own anxiety rising. 

Without looking at you, she finally broke the silence: “I need to tell you something, Y/N. I need to tell you a few things, actually. I’m not sure how you’ll react, but I also know that you didn’t deserve what happened to you tonight, to be put in that situation. You deserve more than that; honestly, you deserve everything good, and I’m so sorry that I put you through that. I completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me or be friends with me anymore, but I would not forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to salvage us.”

You sat silently in shock but continued to let her speak: “I thought I knew myself. In fact, I was so sure I did. Yeah, I may not have known the answer to some stupid math equation in school, but I knew the kind of clothes I preferred to wear, my favorite food to eat when I’m sad or stressed out, my go-to karaoke song. I thought I knew myself , inside and out. But, I don’t, or at least not as well as I thought I did. And, honestly? That’s freaking me the fuck out because, if I don’t know myself , how can I know anything else? I know that probably makes no fucking sense, but… yeah. I’m just really scared right now, but I talked to Pietro, which helped a bit. Um, he was right. Vision was right.”

Your face fell. You thought this was it, she was finally going to reject you and leave you. 

In the deafening silence swirling around the two of you in your bedroom, she eventually decided to look at you. She saw the way your body sagged, how utterly defeated you looked; the brunette realized that you took her statement in the wrong way, “No! No! No! I didn’t mean it like that! Fuck ! I’m fucking this up. Okay, no, Vision is not right about anything other than the fact that I don’t like him. I don’t like boys… Truthfully, I’m not sure. I just feel so confused and stupid for not realizing such a big thing sooner. That’s what I meant when I said I thought I knew myself: I thought I knew that I liked boys, which I feel like is something that many people know from the beginning.”

“So, you’re… gay?” you quietly asked. You might be almost as confused as Wanda claimed to be.

You watched as the brunette nodded slowly, “I think so? As I said, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you bit your lip, concentrating on forming something insightful to say next. “Thank you, Wanda, for telling me. I know how difficult and confusing it all is — believe me. Some people figure it out relatively early; others don’t realize it until they’re married with kids. There’s no timeline to any of it, okay? I know we’re kind of in this weird state right now because of tonight, but no matter what, I’d always support you.”

In a brief moment of confidence, Wanda turned her head to face you. You could see the water in her eyes that threatened to fall, her lip beginning to quiver. You rapidly stood up and walked over to her. With the two of you finally facing each other within a two-foot radius, she threw herself at you, wrapping her arms tightly around your neck. Your arms found their way to her waist, snaking around her and finding placement on her back. Both of you kept holding on tighter and tighter, afraid the other would try to leave. You could feel her chest rising and falling relatively fast as she cried into your neck and shoulder, repeating the phrase “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You removed one hand from her back; instead, you placed it on her head. With a trembling hand, you tread your fingers through her long hair. In an attempt to calm her down, you whisper things of assurance like “It’s okay,” “You’re okay,” or “It’s going to be alright.” You’re not confident they worked, but you could feel her breathing begin to slow down again. You moved the hand from her hair to her shoulder and pulled back in order to ensure she was okay enough to continue; shifting from the shoulder to her hand, you grasped it and squeezed. 

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to you. Wanda was noticeably apprehensive, but she sat anyway.

“Are you okay?” you inquired, your eyebrow slightly raised in concern.

“Yeah, I am. At least, I will be eventually,” she trailed off. “There’s one more thing, though… probably the hardest for me to tell you out of all of them.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly as your interest peaked, but you knew to stay quiet again. She proceeded, “I told you that I don’t like men, implying that I do like women, which is true to an extent, I guess. Um, but it’s not ‘women' as in plural. All I know is that I like one, but I’m not sure how she feels about me. I want to tell her so badly so that we could try to be more or something, but I don’t know if she feels the same. I just don’t want to ruin us.”

You nodded your head for her to continue, “Can– Can I ask which lucky girl caught your eye?”

She moved her gaze upwards, resulting in your eyes locking once more. You could tell she was battling with herself internally about whether or not to answer with the truth, for she was harshly biting her lip. Yet, what you didn’t expect was her quiet, albeit one-word, response: “You.”

At this moment, with your eyes locked and her confession having been spoken, you swear your heart skipped a beat. Wanda Maximoff, your best friend and untold love of your life, just admitted she liked you as more than a friend.

Her eyes grew concerned and her face paled since you weren’t responding. “Please, say something… Y/N?” she pleaded.

If there was a time to deal all of your cards on the table, this was it: “I like you, too, Wanda. In fact, I love you. I love you so much, Wanda Maximoff. You don’t have to say it back or whatever; I know tonight has been a lot for you to deal with, but I’ve just wanted to say that to you for so long.”

A toothy grin grew on her face, reaching from ear to ear, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Um, can I kiss you? You don’t have to say ye—“

You were stopped effectively and prematurely when a pair of lips touched yours. Not just any lips, though; they were the softest , purest pair that was owned by your love , Wanda Maximoff. It’s slow at first, neither one of you sure of the other’s boundaries and not wanting to cross wherever they lie. But, as your lips part further allowing her to deepen the kiss, you just think, Wow.  

You continue to kiss her for a minute or two before you’re out of breath and need to pull back for air. Before she can pull back completely, you give her a quick peck on her rosy lips that was probably filled with more intimacy and confidence than that initial kiss.

Pulling the brunette closer to you, you lean down and get the two of you comfortable in your bed. You’ve cuddled like this before during past nights where one of you spent the night with the other girl: you as the big spoon and her as the little one. You deeply appreciated nights like these, but you loved them even more so now that they hold a different context.

Your hand finds its spot on her hip, going beneath the shirt she wore. The two of you know it’s nothing sexual in nature, rather it’s a result of your need to just feel her. As you both began to nod off to sleep with your thumb continued to rub circles on her soft skin, you heard her voice call your name softly once more, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, Wands?”

“I love you, too.”

End.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #limarieb #limarieb wanda maximoff

[daffodilfool]

Music and Intelligence

i made a followup / correction of this post

go read that instead, please I worked so fucking hard on it and people are STILL flocking to this version

I'm gonna preface this by saying I am by no means a professional biologist, I am just a biology student who nerds out about art and biology sharing an interesting thought I had this morning.

We don't know where music comes from. That is the very disappointing answer I got to a very interesting question I had this morning. The best answer science can come up with is ...eh, it's kind of just an evolutionary hiccup that developed out of nowhere.

I don't buy it.

Hypothesis: Music isn't an evolutionary hiccup but actually an integral aspect to developing sapience.

Think about this: One of the very first things we'll hear as human beings both now as we're born and in the ages past when we first evolved is birdsong. We associate birdsong with two very important things:

Winter has passed.

Dawn has broken.

Both of these give us a lot of valuable information like it is no longer dark, it is no longer cold, it is no longer dangerous, it is safe.

Early hominids with the ability to correctly identify birdsong and associate it with safety would thus be at great evolutionary advantage as they would be much more likely to survive the winter and the night, but that ability requires 3 major steps:

The ability to pick out distinct rhythms and melodies to correctly identify something as birdsong.

The ability to correlate said birdsong to the idea of the sun coming out.

The ability to make said connection through an abstract emotional response.

In other words, it requires pattern recognition, problem solving and complex emotion. Sapience. Music is not a coincidental fluke byproduct of sapience, it is the catalyst for developing sapience.

Granted this is largely speculation on my part; there's nothing I can do to prove that this is why our sapience evolved.

However.

We are not the only sapient life on earth, there are others, some debated, some not. Besides us there are dolphins, whales, corvids, parrots and elephants, and do you know what we all have in common? We deliberately communicate through melodic and rhythmic sounds, and we derive a particular pleasure from doing so. We all enjoy music.

If music was an evolutionary fluke in our development, how come it's a commonality among all sapient life? There are many animals that sing to mate and sing to intimidate and yet they lack any signs of sapience, but the ones that sing just because they can all happen to be the most intelligent creatures on earth.

Food for thought.

#biology #zoology #music #songs #philosophy #animals #anthropology #dolphin #whale #corvid #crow #raven #parrots #elephant #food for thought #shower thoughts