#no formal publication just something written up here
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(sends self ask to write alternate ending blurb for watch and learn where reader ends up with blake) (lots of hurt!) (no comfort!)
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alternate sad ending to watch and learn series. based on this ask! takes place the day they’re at the beach in part eight
When Blake kisses you, everything you’ve been waiting and hoping for falls into place. His lips fit against yours perfectly, his hands hold your hips under the water so sweetly, and when you pull back, his smile melts your heart.
He’s slow and gentle with every move, making time stop.
When you’re back on the shore, he puts a warm, heavy arm around you, unafraid of showing you affection and claiming you in public. Unafraid of everything Rafe refuses to give you.
Conversation flows easy now, surely because he’s not shy about if you like him anymore. Now that he’s out of his shell, he’s even sweeter and funnier than you realized.
When Blake drops you off at your dorm, he turns off his car and takes a deep, shaky breath. You can tell he’s nervous by the way he smooths his hands over his legs.
“I wanted to tell you that I really like you,” he says. “And I’m sorry if I’m coming out of left-field here, but would you… do you want to be my girlfriend maybe?”
His nervousness is so damn endearing. This is what you’ve been missing with Rafe. Unashamed affection and a desire to commit. You breathe a happy yes and kiss him.
You’re in the shower when Rafe calls your name. You open the stall door with a confused expression, noticing how sad he looks, asking him what’s wrong.
He has already seen you naked so many times, but you hide behind the door. He can’t have this access to you anymore.
Rafe tries to push into the shower, desperate for one last time with you, but when your wet hand pushes against his chest, he swears he hears his heart break.
“We can’t do this anymore,” you tell him. “I’m with Blake.”
You think that if Rafe has any opportunity to tell you that he feels something deeper for you, now’s the time. But he just scoffs angrily, brows furrowing, shaking his head in disbelief.
By his reaction, you’re sure he’s just annoyed he can’t have great, easy sex with his neighbor anymore.
Rafe goes to the frat party that night, disgusted by the sight of you at Blake’s side. He’s grateful that a girl strikes up a conversation with him and he takes her home, fucking her the way you taught him to.
Eventually, though, he grows selfish and hasty in bed again once he realizes sex with someone he doesn’t feel connected to is empty.
Blake is overjoyed when you ask him to the Sadie Hawkins formal. Rafe doesn’t attend. But he sees the photo of you two together on Instagram and he wants to punch a wall.
You should have expected Rafe to be an asshole again after you stopped fucking around with him. You try to joke around with him every so often, but he always meets you with aloofness. You eventually give up.
You don’t know he’s so frigid because he’s dying inside watching you be happy with someone else.
He’s back to being loud in his dorm again, no matter how many times you text him to stop. You eventually tell the resident advisor who has to give him a warning.
Although he’s typically the loud one, Rafe hears you through your wall sometimes. He’s in agony when he hears the pretty laugh and sexy moans he used to earn. Someone else is making you do that now.
In a twisted way, he hopes you’re trying to make him jealous when you’re groaning in pleasure while you fuck Blake.
But it’s wishful thinking. Because you’ve genuinely written Rafe off and are falling for Blake, who’s sweet and sincere and kind to you.
Rafe moves into the frat house the next semester. He can’t even be happy that you don’t share a wall with him anymore because you’re always around.
Blake constantly has his arm draped around you. Rafe must hate himself, because he sometimes imagines you being like that with him. Being his girlfriend. He’d try the relationship thing with you if you wanted him.
But you don’t.
The spring camping trip is supposed to be frat brothers only. Of course you’re there, though. Blake wants you around all the time and he encourages the guys to bring their girls, too.
Everyone’s seated surrounding the bonfire the last evening of the trip and Rafe watches you on Blake’s lap, the flames shadowing and highlighting your beautiful features. What he’d give to kiss you one more time.
“You warm enough, baby?” Blake asks you. Rafe is seething. He used to call you baby. You don’t even seem to notice or give a fuck.
“Freezing. Hug me better,” you tease, smiling as he wraps his arms around you tighter.
Rafe has had too much to drink by the time the fire dies down. Everyone starts to retire to their cabins, but he catches you alone under the moonlight.
The feeling of his hand around your wrist makes the memories of your tryst come rushing back. He was such a good lover.
But you got what you wanted from each other. You have amazing sex with Blake because you learned how to be direct and confident in bed with Rafe.
“Hey,” he mutters lowly.
“What?” you ask, expecting his usual frigidity.
“Why’d you pick him?” He’s slurring.
“What?”
“It’s a simple question,” he replies.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you tell him.
“Blake. Why’d you pick him? Why not…” He screws his lips together. “Me?”
“You?” you say, in disbelief. “For what? A relationship?”
Your tone cuts through him. Like the thought of loving him is so fucking crazy.
“You’re drunk,” you say with a laugh, twisting out of his grip.
“Tell me,” Rafe says.
“Rafe,” you mutter. He misses your voice saying his name. “Is this a sick joke? You told me at least a million times you don’t want a girlfriend. You’re losing it, buddy.”
“Don’t call me that,” he says through gritted teeth. Buddy. It’s so damn condescending. So far from what you once shared.
“What do I call you?” you reply. “A friend? You went back to treating me like shit once we stopped fucking, remember?”
“Because I was…” He steps back. Hot tears sprout out of his eyes without warning and he angrily wipes them away with the heels of his hands.
You’re taken aback to see him like this. To know you have this effect on him.
“I can treat you better,” Rafe says. “I can make you happier than he does.” In reality, he’s not sure at all if he can compete with Blake.
But he’d kill himself trying if you’d let him. He can see it in your eyes that you won’t.
The fact that he’s crying weakens the animosity you have for him a little bit. You decide to be totally honest.
“You had a chance,” you tell him. Rafe meets your eyes, his gaze hollow.
“You would’ve picked me?” he asks. Answering that feels almost like some form of cheating. So, you don’t.
“Listen, I love Blake,” you say. “And a relationship is a great thing if you open yourself up to it. You can find someone who can make you happy. I genuinely hope you do.”
Rafe huffs and brushes past you. You could make him happy. But he’ll never know that happiness.
He wishes he was drunk enough to forget this tomorrow. He’s not. He’s doomed to keep watching you walk around with his heart, breaking it every time he sees you and thinks about what could have been.
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Hello.
I've seen you posting detailed information about the WGA strike and wondered if you had any suggestions as to how those of us not directly involved can show our support for the Union?
Okay, bearing in mind that all this is entirely subjective at the moment (and so far lacking any more useful input from other sources): a few thoughts.
This will be my third WGA strike. (My first one was in 1988, just after I'd made my first live action sale—s1e6 of ST:TNG). And the thought keeps occurring to me at the moment that this time out, there's a potentially gamechanging player on the field that wasn't there before: truly pervasive social media.
(Adding a cut here, because this goes on a bit...)
In 2007, social media as we now understand it was still in its cradle. Now, though, those of us who're striking can make our voices much more widely heard. And so can those of us who're not, but just want to show solidarity. Last time, the AMPTP was able to do pretty much what it wanted without the public noticing or having even a medium-profile way to make their feelings known. But this time? Not so much.
So as an otherwise uninvolved person who wants to show solidarity, I'd start with something seemingly low-value. If I was on Twitter, I'd start routinely tweeting about the strike and my support for it—not obsessively, just persistently, a couple/few times a week—using the Twitter hashtags that are gaining ground even now, such as #DoTheWriteThing (and of course #WGAStrike). I would make sure I was following @WGAEast and @WGAWest, to keep an eye on what's going on.
Additionally: I would start politely, but repeatedly—again, maybe once or twice a week at least, and not stopping—tweeting the various major players in the AMPTP, especially the streamers: Amazon, Netflix, Hulu et al. I would start suggesting that their current attitude toward the WGA's contract negotiations is not only unrealistic but potentially (for the AMPTP) bad for business. (And self-destructive, too, as if this goes on much longer in this vein, they'll be seemingly eagerly casting themselves as The Baddies.) I would suggest that their bad behavior, if not amended by them coming to the table to bargain in good faith, might start affecting both my interest in their shows and my willingness to keep paying unreasonable people for access to them.
I should emphasize here that so far there've been no formal calls from anyone for boycotts or subscription cancellations. For the moment, this strikes me as wise. The point for WGA-friendly observers, right now, would be to keep what's happening to the writers visible: to keep bringing it up: to refuse to allow it to be swept under the rug. The "They only want two cents on the dollar!" angle seems potentially useful the more it's repeated. The point is to keep the repetition going: to make it plain, day after day, that the other side's being not just unreasonable, but greedy. Day after day, and week after week, and (if necessary: please Thoth may it not be...) month after month.
And tweeting is hardly all that can be done. Email is cheap and easy. But actual letters, written on actual paper and mailed, can still create a surprising amount of attention in a corporate office. (The saying in TV used to be that for every person who actually writes in about an issue, there are ten, or a hundred, who feel the same way but never got around to it.) Write letters to all the AMPTP members' CEOs, and make your feelings on the WGA's core demands politely plain. ...Especially when those CEOs collectively made almost three-quarters of a billion-with-a-B dollars in salaries last year, when many of the writers working on their shows can't afford rent.
After that: here's another thought, a little more physical. If by chance you're in an area where one or the other of the Guilds are picketing: turn out and support them! Honk when you pass: and if you're interested, show up and offer to walk the picket lines with them. These things get noticed. (In 2007 a bunch of us, both Guild members and non-, caused significant astonishment by turning out to picket AMPTP members' offices in Dublin.)
...Obviously not all that many people are going to be positioned, in terms of location or their own work and time commitments, to show up physically. But online? Find ways to keep this issue visible. The AMPTP wants this to go quiet, wants people to get bored with it, wants people to find reasons to blame the writers. They've tried spinning the story that way before. Don't let them pull that shit. Find ways to back those who're calling them on that, publicly. They do respond to this kind of thing (though they may strenuously deny it). If enough attention continues to be paid by the general public, they will blink—if sometimes excruciatingly slowly, as Disney began to blink over the dispute tagged #DisneyMustPay.
As viewers, and as viewers who pay for subscriptions to things, we far outnumber them. Help be a part of making the AMPTP understand that this quest for a truly fair deal is not going to go away. And the longer they try to act like the Guild's negotiation positions are beneath their notice, the more it's going to hurt them, and the stupider and greedier it's going to make them look.
...That's all I've got for the moment, as I need some lunch. :) ...But I hope this has helped. And thanks for your concern, and your desire to stand in solidarity with us! It's so welcome. :)
ETA: here's a link to the Guild's social media toolkit, for those who'd like to change PFPs or icons, etc., to show their support.
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Eyes, Hands & Lips - LN
I counted up how many Lando one shots i’ve done and this is going to be the 54th. Actually had no idea i’d written that many, that’s mad. But just want to say thank you to everyone who has followed and reads my posts. It means a lot, and especially thank you if you’ve read and enjoyed my writing for other drivers.
Summary: Lando knows y/n's three weaknesses that he uses at every opportunity, in private and public.
Themes: soft-dom!Lando(?) deffo control-freak!Lando, smut, Filth? Idk you decide and let me know
It's a well known but not shared secret among the drivers and teams in the paddock that Lando and y/n have a very much....sexually led relationship. None of them have directly witnessed anything but the atmosphere between them, it's as if they're always about to have sex or have just finished.
Though Lando has his sweet moments and is clearly obsessed with his girlfriend in every way you might expect.
But hearing her whimper, seeing her fight off her own pleasure in fear of someone around her noticing, feeling her tremble under his touch. That's where his obsession with his girlfriend really is.
They've not had a formal conversation of the fact that Lando seems to be so completely dominant with her. But it's certainly apparent and she's not mad about it.
"L-Lando." Y/n whimpers trying to close her eyes, feeling his fingers thrust in and out of her as he strokes his thumb on her pulse point while his gently hand remains around her neck.
"No. Look at me."
Eye contact. Her weakness.
She actually hates eye contact, something about it makes her so flustered she forgets to fight off the orgasm that's quickly approaching. It completely surrenders her control to him.
"Lando! I won't tell you again, we need you out here!" The media manager exclaims in frustration. This being the third time she's came to retrieve the young man who has assured her he'll not be long each time she's called for him.
Y/n clenches up around his fingers but she's fighting with every fibre of her being and Lando is ruthless brushing that g-spot with a pressure that has tears in her eyes as she shakes her head.
"I'm not leaving till you step out this room." That makes Lando lean into y/n's ear, unrelenting with his fingers while she tries to let out a controlled and quiet shake breath feeling his lips brush the shell of her ear.
"You better cum baby. She's not going anywhere and I'm not leaving till there's a puddle on this floor." Lando states though y/n is almost certainly she's dripping on the floor already, her wetness has definitely coated her thighs and his hand entirely.
"But she'll hear me." Y/n whispers although there's no response, Lando's thumb finally presses further on her clit like button that leaves her doing exactly as he wants. Her hands fist the papaya polo shirt that's adorning his body. She wants to hide her face and press into his neck or his shoulder but the hand at her throat keeps her from doing so, and he likes to see her face when she falls apart.
He definitely gets what he wants, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of her as she grits her teeth to stop the moan that is pushing it's way up, though his hand slightly tighter around her voice box prevents the sound as her jaw does drop slightly and she watches her vision sparkle with white dots.
"Lando!"
The world is echoed and her brain fog is heavy as Lando finally releases her, catching her as she drops forward against him which if she wasn't in such a haze she'd groan knowing his soaked hand is now dirtying her outfit.
He shouts something back through the door but she's still too out of it to make sense of his words. Instead just accepting him sitting her down and moving to grab a cloth to clean her up quickly, along with himself. He grabs a hoodie, carefully pulling off her top that has her cum in the form of his handprint on it as he tosses it on the floor and pushes the hoodie over her.
Thankfully her skirt avoided any damage. So while it's not the outfit she arrived in, it'll have to do for now and he can say she just got cold.
"Alright, baby. You with me?" Lando asks clearly amused by the effect he had on her.
"I'm good." She breathes softly nodding as Lando offers his cleaned hands to help her up. But once she's up supporting herself on her own legs. "Christ."
"Yeah, sorry. Might've gotten a bit carried away." Lando chuckles while running a finger down her neck feeling her throat bob as she swallows under his touch. "Come on, before the team have an actual fit over how late we are."
They're not late, since they always come to get Lando early knowing he loves to leave his girlfriend in ruins for his own entertainment before a race. They don't need to see it or hear more than they have to know what he's doing in there even if they don't know the extent of it.
"I'm sore." Y/n pouts making him reflect her expression with a pout of his own then quickly pecking her lips in a kiss.
"Sorry...just wait till after the race." Lando smirks making her feel a shiver of anticipation ripple down her spine despite her body telling her that there has to be some sort of limit. But she knows she loves it and Lando knows when she doesn't want it, she trusts him enough to tell him and they won't have sex. It's that simple.
Lando opens the door to reveal a woman who's face is more suited to Ferrari's red with how angry she is. Y/n would happily let the ground swallow her whole if it got her out of the daggers being shot in her direction.
"Come on baby." Lando smiles placing his large hand on the small of her back through the hoodie as he walks out his driver's room while she tries to not stumble on her still weak legs.
-
Y/n sits on the bathroom counter in nothing but her towel, fresh from a shower that was very much orgasm filled thanks to Lando joining her.
But right now she's watching him pull out a toy that is not the first time he's used it but under these conditions, it could definitely be maybe a bit of a risk.
"You can say no." Lando states while moving in-between her legs as his free hand move to tip her chin up so she's looking in his eyes. "You can."
"I don't want to say no." Y/n murmurs watching him smirk and nod before he catches her in a long, deep kiss as his hand creeps between her legs pushing the love egg into her pussy till he feels it's in the right position.
"That feel ok?" Lando asks softly while helping her down.
"Yeah...don't know how snowboarding is going to go with you in control of it. But it feels ok." She nods while he smirks and sighs pressing her up against himself. "Don't embarrass me."
Lando knows for certain he introduced y/n to a sex life that isn't quite so vanilla but he also knows that sometimes she'll agree to stuff even when she's not so confident about it. She trusts him so if he assures her that she can tap out and that's how it is.
"Alright, time to layer up." Lando smiles while she looks at him with a small nod.
To y/n's surprise Lando doesn't turn anything on or make any attempt of surprising her for most of the day. They get through the first few slopes with her being aware of the vibrator but slowing easing as it continues to go unused.
Perhaps she should've suspected he might strike when least expected. She heads down first just slightly ahead of himself and Max.
However, he apparently chooses now to strike and she skids to a stop sitting on the snow and biting her lip.
"Y/n? Are you alright?" P asks with a small frown, stopping further down as the boys appear, stopping.
"Ah, uh...yeah, just felt like my boot was loose." Y/n lies while the three exchange a look. Lando should get an award for his acting skills especially as he somehow knocks it up a level.
"You guys go ahead, we'll catch up." Lando sighs moving to y/n while Max and P sigh.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Y/n nods making the two exchange another look before they leave y/n with Lando who waits until they're far enough away to speak.
"You gotta get up baby." He sighs while she swallows thickly as he knocks up the level making her thighs press together. "Come on, you can't sit here. We're in the way of other people."
"But what if I..."
"If you do then I got what I wanted." Lando smirks as she takes his hands and though he's wearing gloves her thoughts even thinking about all the unholy those hands have done to her is enough for her to feel heavier. Not to mention standing up alters the position of the vibrator making her wobble immediately but his hands catch her waist.
Lando keeps hold of her as they slide down the slope though about two thirds of the way down, she crumples shaking her head as she knocks Lando back too.
"I can't-I can't. It's too much and not enough. Baby, please. Stop it. I can't." Y/n whines shaking her head before feeling him shift till it stops and her body nearly melts from how tense it had been. "Thank you."
"That's ok. We'll just sit here for a bit." Lando chuckles making her sigh and look out at the view. Y/n ends up pulling off his glove to look at his hand. "If you're going to turn yourself on doing that, I can't be blamed this time."
"I'm not." She murmurs though that's only partially true. "We should go, P and Max will be waiting."
Lando hums knowing that when they reach the bottom he has no intention to spend much time with any of his friends but only his girlfriend.
-
Y/n looks at Lando on the private jet, frowning and tilting her head a little as she watches him sleep. It's not as if she's never initiated sex, but waking him up while the rest of the people on the flight are asleep is another game.
She triple checked that and they've all got noise-cancelling headphones or earplugs in. Thank god.
It was Lando's fault that she was even turned on. She'd fallen asleep before him and woken up finding his hand somehow up gently holding her neck, whether he fell asleep like that or moved to it in his sleep, she doesn't know. But waking up to it certainly has her fidgeting and unable to sit still.
"Lando..." Y/n murmurs moving his headphones making him frown as he stirs a little. "Lando, I need you."
"What?" Lando frowns still too much in the depth of his own sleep as he blinks a few times those lazy green eyes locking onto her in the dimly lit cabin, even in the bad lighting that heavy gaze on her is adding to her discomfort. "You need me for what?"
Now usually Lando isn't so slow to connect the dots, but he gets there eventually and laughs quietly.
"We're not having sex. I'm too tired, but would you settle for something else that's sort of half way?" Lando offers in a yawn clearly wanting to return to the realm of sleep.
She knows exactly what that means and when he shifts letting her climb on him, her hands dipping into his joggers since he’s travelling dressed for comfort. He's semi-hard under her touch and that's enough for her swallow thickly going to look around again only for Lando's hand to come up forcing her to keep looking at him and disregard anyone else.
If he doesn't care why should she should?"
"If you're concerned about someone else then maybe you don't need me."
"No." Y/n whimpers as she slides down on his length feeling some satisfaction from the feeling of him inside her. The full feeling sending a shudder up her spine before she leans forward to lie on top of him, trying to steady her breathing as she actually feels this be enough to push her to the brink.
How pathetic. Her inner thoughts scold her for being so easily pleased in this moment. But it's the knowledge of everyone else not knowing what they're doing combine with the fact they could wake up and she'd probably have a heart attack if they caught onto what they're doing, plus Lando's eyes are still watching her lazily, she can feel his gaze burning through her.
"F-Fuck." Y/n murmurs making Lando chuckle lightly while she hits her face in his chest, rubbing into the soft material of his hoodie as he gently rubs her thighs.
"We've got a couple hours left of the flight baby. If you cum before we land, then I might have to just make it one of many that you have today."
Threat or promise, Lando will follow through either way and her body tenses a little at the thought of what's to come getting off this flight.
Overstimulation is his favourite way to give her the best type of torture. He loves seeing her completely fall apart again and again till she's torn between stopping and letting him continue.
Lando does end up falling asleep, presumably more than comfortable from his perspective of the position. Meanwhile, y/n can't stop looking at Lando feeling herself getting wetter and wetter while she just looks at him. Looking at his lips, thinking about how they feel when they touch her skin, thinking about how hot his mouth feels on her.
Clearly muscle memory serves too well sometimes because honestly y/n shoves her face into Lando chest, her body seizing at the overwhelming feeling of her orgasm, hands gripping at Lando as he comes back around at the feeling of her tight around him like a vice along with the feeling of her nails digging into his arms.
"Feel better?" He hums while she's still in her own buzz.
"Mmhmmm..." Y/n nods then swallowing thickly as he looks at her gently tucking some of her hair back behind her ear. "Even if I know you're going to make me regret it later."
"Regret it?" Lando smirks but the glint in his eye shows that's exactly his plans.
"Yes." Y/n yawns then nuzzling her face into his neck making it obvious she has no plans to move from this position quite yet. "It's ok. I can handle it."
Her cockiness won't do her favours later because her saying she can handle it means that she's just set Lando the challenge of making sure she's at a point that she can't handle it. But he'll build her up to it.
For now he'll let her keep his cock warm for the rest of the flight.
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando#norris#lando smut#ln4 smut#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fanfic#ln4 fic#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4#formula 1 smut#smut#lando norris x you#lando norris one shot#ln4 one shot#lando norris smut
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Regina's Pet
CONTENT:
Word Count: 10,210 words
f!/nb!reader x regina george (dom!regina sub!reader)
-reader and regina smoke weed and cigarettes, but reader has never used a bong before
-drinking
-the reader has a shoulder tattoo and Regina finds
-cady and janis are friends with the plastics
-smut (she collars you later) (mommy kink) (degrading and praise) (semi-public stuff) (a bit of BDSM) (she eats you out and fingers you, and she rides your face) (edging and overstim)
-gross guy hitting on Regina, reader helps her
-fluffy shower aftercare
-she dates you in the end
-regina is kinda more nice here, but she still calls you a dumbass
(btw the smut is at the beginning and the end if you want to skip to it, but there's a lot of teasing build-up between there.)
Hi, i’m really new to writing so sorry if its shitty. I hope you like it. I might make a Part 2
(small unrelated note: I accidentally posted this while I was still writing it out yesterday, mb to those 15 people who saw this and didn't read the finished version, I'm kinda new to writing on Tumblr [i also haven’t written anything since i was 13 so bear with me])
——————————————————————————————
In university you were more or less a wallflower, leaned against a wall near the kitchen counter watching people come and go with drinks, watching the dance floor. Your friends had disappeared somewhere in the house leaving you unintentionally. It was Friday, and the night was young.
You looked into your red solo cup and downed it all, then walked to the kitchen counter to pour yourself another cup of liquid courage with coke.
Just as you were about to resume to leaning against a wall a hand tapped your shoulder from behind and you saw her, Regina George. You assumed she just came from the crowd of people dancing since you hadn’t seen her before that.
She’s been in some of your lectures and had taken a liking to you, her normal spot was always near you or next to you, so you could share notes, but she always had friends around her. With others, she was snarky but with you she was snarky in a more friendly-flirty way. You couldn’t tell if she was actually flirting or not. But she often invited you out to study outside of class.
She was taller than you and you looked up a bit at her, then she stepped forward and you stepped back against the wall “Hey little wallflower,” she grinned as she saw your face of surprise, “Didn’t expect you to be here” and looked you up and down. This was one of the only times you saw her in a non-educational setting.
While of course she looked stunning, you looked down at your own outfit and scratched the back of your head, you wore just a T-shirt partially tucked in jeans. “Yeah kind of, I don’t know where my friends went. I got a little lost.” You admitted.
“You smoke?” she asked.
“Weed or Nicotine?”
“Either, I’ve got both if you want” her voice enticed you like a siren call.
Tired of standing around watching like a loner you nod “Preferably weed right now, just warning you, I’m a bit of a lightweight, but sure” you said
“Hmm, okay loser, c’mon” Regina smirked took your free hand, and led you through the crowd toward the side yard, where two girls were sitting around a table passing a bong, finishing up a bowl. You recognize them as part of Regina’s pack of friends, but you never formally talked to them.
Regina let go of your hand, “Hey guys you know Y/N, Y/N you know Gretchen and Karen right? Right.” she sat down on an empty chair and beckoned you to sit in the empty one next to her.
Gretchen stood “Actually we were just about to go get more drinks and find Cady and Janis, we’ll be back Gina” Karen also stood and handed Regina the bong and the lighter.
When they were out of earshot you whispered nervously to Regina, “Um, Regina? I’ve smoked weed but I’ve never used a bong before” you were bright red wondering if she’d judge you or something.
She had stared packing a small bowl and laughed at you a little “Sweet little thing” her voice was flirty but you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol in both your systems. She turned back to you “Move closer to me, I’ll help you” she ordered. You pushed your chair toward Regina and sat in front of her, knees almost touching. “Hands out flat hold the bottom, sweetheart” then she placed it on your hands. “Now, breathe in” you did as you were told and the water bubbled. Then, she lit the bowl and looked straight into your eyes, and then finally took the bowl out and nodded signaling for you to stop breathing in.
You breathed out the smoke which felt smoother than any smoke you’d ever had in your lungs “Good job Y/N, baby” her voice was a little condescending, but you warmed inside still at the praise. She took it out of your hands and used it herself. You alternated turns using it, with her still helping you and only giving you small short hits.
Feeling more at ease, you relaxed more in your chair and melted in it a bit. Regina looked at you cunningly, obviously enjoying that you were starting to let loose. “Regina, why are you hanging out with me I’m not exactly the most riveting thing at this party” you circled your hand insinuating that she was the riveting thing here.
“You intrigue me sweetheart” she said nonchalantly “Do i need another reason?”
“No I guess not..”
She added sarcastically “Oh, I remember I only keep you around for lecture notes and help with homework.” you laughed and she spoke again “you don’t look half bad either.” Was that Regina saying she thought you looked good? You ignored that thought and took a sip from your solo cup.
“Hey Regina” you slurred your words a bit while she took another hit herself “Can I have another hit, please?” and grinned at her.
You leaned forward so you could hold your hand out again, instead she grabbed your shirt collar eliciting a gasp from you, lips as close to hers without kissing, she started blowing smoke into your mouth and you obliged breathing it in. Then pulled you in for a quick kiss, leaving you speechless. “Cat got your tongue loser?” still holding your shirt, keeping you from moving backward.
Pausing for a moment trying to process what happened and to find the words, you spoke softly your inhibitions lost “No, you do” and she pulled you in again for a deeper kiss tasting her lipstick. She let go of your shirt and her thumb cleaned your lips of her lipstick.
Your head spun from the alcohol, weed, and adrenaline, your body was warm and fuzzy. “Fuck, you’re amazing” you said under your breath without thinking. Your heart hammered.
“Of course I am Y/N” she stood up and held her hand out to you, a silent order for you to get up and take her hand.
“You’re like a goddess” she stared down at you, like you were her obedient servant. Then you took her hand.
“I know loser”
——————————————————————————————
She called an Uber for both of you and brought you back to her dorm. She told you that her roommate wouldn’t come back tonight, since they head home on the weekends.
She led you inside and you asked “You sure your roommate isn’t gonna come back?” you closed the door behind you.
“Ugh no, shut up don’t ruin the mood just kiss me” she shoved you against the door and tilted your head up to look at her “You gonna be good for me?”. You just nodded and kissed her, she pushed her knee between your thighs and you whined into her. You opened your mouth more to let her tongue inside.
With your core aching for more touch, you started grinding on her thigh and she pushed her knee up higher into you. Regina broke the kiss with a bite to your lip eliciting another moan from you. “Shit- Regina” you buried your face in the crook of her neck and moaned out, she took your face to look back at her.
“Do you want more?” she asked, but you only nodded. “Ah ah” Regina scolded you “use your words.”
“Shit, please Regina? Please, fuck me. Be mean to me” You begged her not thinking about your words.
She smirked at you feigning disgust “Oh? Shy, innocent, little wallflower is so dirty” She removed her leg from between your knees and started undoing your belt and pants. Then she walked away from you towards the bed and started removing her shirt, while you did the same. She then sat on the bed with only her panties on and spread her legs. “You want me to fuck you? Get on your knees and earn it”
You both were still very crossfaded and you eagerly went on your knees kissing her from her knee to her inner thigh biting as you went. You looked up and saw her flushed face and kissed above her clit through her panties. “Take them off. Make mommy feel good.”
“Yes mommy” You loved her telling you what to do. You slid her panties off and she spread her legs for you. Regina’s pussy was wet, and hot. She looked down at you expectantly. “You’re beautiful” you said before pressing your tongue to her clit. Regina moaned out and you squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve your own ache.
You tongued at her clit and pulled away to use a hand to rub circles around her bud “Can I use my fingers inside you?” and she let out a yes between moans and you watched her face as you slid two fingers easily inside her wet cunt and curled them pressing her g-spot her head threw back. You then returned your tongue to her clit pressing and licking harder.
“Shit baby, I’m close, don’t stop” she grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer suffocating you between her legs a little bit. You rubbed your thighs together trying to relieve yourself and moaned into her pussy while you curled your fingers inside of her.
A loud “Fuck” between pants and moans was the last thing she said before she arched her back, one hand pressing you hard into her pussy the other supporting her while she came on your fingers, you continued the assault on her clit while she rode out her orgasm. When she finished you licked her pussy and thighs clean.
"You have a tattoo, I never took you for a tattoo kind of person" You looked up at her as she traced your shoulder. Regina found it hot "You never told me" It was always well hidden behind a normal tshirt
You replied "You never asked" and gave her a smile "It's not finished yet though"
She pulled you up onto the bed with her and you straddled one of her thighs. “You did such a good job pet” She still breathed heavily, and she kissed you tasting herself on your tongue.
You grinded down on her thigh a bit while you worshiped her body, a little whine escaping your mouth. Though your core aches for attention you dare not ask in fear of upsetting the goddess. Instead you worshipped her body with a trail of kisses from her neck to her breast. Leaving hickeys and marks only on places that could be covered easily. When you leaned back to look at the marks you left, you just stared looking at her perfect figure.
You heard Regina let out a scoff “You done gawking at me sweetie?” you reddened realizing how long you stared for. Smirking at your embarrassment, she decided to give you mercy “You ready for your reward baby?” her voice sickly sweet and domineering.
“Please” you said under your breath, you couldn’t take waiting any longer, it ached between your legs.
Regina laughed a bit at you “So needy” She took a hand and signaled for you to lift your hips, her other hand placed on her thigh where you’d been grinding slightly. “Ride it, ride my fingers slut.”
You lowered down onto her hand and as soon as you took her fingers in she curled them hitting your g-spot, a loud moan escaped from your mouth and then you started to grind your hips. You covered your mouth with your hand and closed your eyes, your other hand on her shoulder supporting yourself. Riding her hand, the base of her palm rubbed against your clit “Shit- Regina..” you moaned out but muffled against your hand.
She stilled your hips and threatened “Move your hand, let me hear you or I’ll stop” you opened your eyes half-lidded and let your hand drop to Regina’s other shoulder supporting yourself with both hands now. “Good pet seems like you can follow orders hm”
She started guiding your hips against her hand to start you back up again. You didn’t break eye contact with her. You moaned out loudly when her hand from your hip found one of your nipples and pinched it hard. “Regina” you panted out desperately and she just bit her lip.
She curled her fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot and let you grind, you synched your hips with her movements. Each press inside and each time your clit moved against her palm sent pleasure shooting through your body, and heat started to burn in your core “Fuck, Regina- please I’m close. I can’t” you were almost tipping over the edge
“Cum for me baby, go on” She instructed and your legs shook and you moaned out her name over and over, she continued to guide you through your orgasm still pressing against your inside until you stopped grinding against her hand.
When she started to pull her hand away, you lifted your hips to let her, Regina let her fingers slide through your slit and rubbed hard against your overstimulated clit. A loud whimper escaped, but you tried not to move away “Shit- Regina, I’m sensitive” You looked at her pleadingly, legs trembling
“I know baby” she smirked deviously as your legs shook “come one more time for me, can you do that?” she circled your clit faster.
“Yes, fuck- anything for you” you weren’t going to last long, especially when she talked to you like that.
Regina hummed “Such a pathetic toy for me aren’t you?” you whined out a yes and she pressed harder. She loved seeing you come undone.
“Regina, please, I’m close again” you managed to get out, then she started rubbing horizontal strokes right against your clit and you felt like you saw stars “Mommy- please I can’t, I can’t-”
“Go ahead pet” she purred in your ear and you came all over her hand again. This orgasm was more intense than the first, white-hot pleasure struck through you. She whispered praises and encouragement while you came, but she never slowed down wanting to prolong your orgasm as long as possible.
When you pulled your hips away you she brought her hand in front of both of you. “Look at how messy you are baby” then she made a show of licking your wetness off her hands.
You sat on her lap still straddling her and she sat up to kiss you, she wrapped her arms around your waist and your arms went around her shoulder and neck. She kissed your jawline and then your neck leaving a sizable hickey that would be hard to hide. She pulled back to look at you.
“That was incredible” you said breathily coming down from your orgasm high and the weed. “Thank you” you murmured quietly.
“You did say I was amazing” she pulled you close to her lips again, “of course I’m incredible in bed” sounding cocky as ever.
Regina let you climb off her and she helped you clean yourself up. You sat on the bed while she rummaged through her drawer and she threw a pink t shirt and a pair of sweats at you. She decided to keep the stray in her bed. “Stay tonight”
“Thank you” you said as you stood up and got changed into her pjs.
She rummaged more through her drawer and pulled out a small tape measurer “Sit up” she instructed and you did, then she wrapped it around your neck measuring it quickly.
You were confused, but before you could ask what it was for, she lifted the covers to get in bed and anxiety suddenly took over you. You were about to sleep in this gorgeous woman’s bed. But your mind raced. Was this just a fling? Were you really just kept around for homework and a good fuck? Your expression changed and you furrowed your eyebrows a tiny bit. “I’m gonna go get some water really quick” you grabbed her water bottle.
Before you could walk out, she said “Okay nerd, just come back” she sounded irritated, but the way her hand had tugged on your shirt showed you she wasn’t really upset.
“Of course” you grabbed your phone and walked out to the communal bathroom. You went to the sink and splashed water in your face. “Fuck” you said to yourself looking at the mirror, you then tilted your head to the side looking at the hickey she left on you. Your stomach fluttered, you’d just fucked one of the most beautiful people and she wants you to come back to bed.
You opened your phone to worried messages from your friends
Y/N: so sorry guys I’m at someone’s dorm right now
Max: shit we were worried about you, we tried finding you at the party but you weren’t there
Y/N: you guys have my location you know
Jade: whose dorm r you at? did you, yk?
You hesitated before texting back, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Your friends knew that Regina had taken a liking to you and gave you special treatment, they also knew what a huge crush you had on her
Y/N: i’m with regina...
Max: so you’re the one people saw with regina huh
Jade: hope you had fun
Y/N: mm details later, i’m going to bed goodnight
Jade: goodnight
Max: night
Next to the communal bathroom, was a small water fountain and you filled it.
You walked back to her room and she put her phone down quickly and lifted the covers for you to come in. “Hey Regina?” you said nervously as you got shifted to be comfortable in her bed.
“Yes” she replied while she took your arm around to hold her. You were cuddling her, and she scooted closer to you.
“I was just wondering, is this just a one time thing or..” you paused anxiously wondering if she was mad.
She turned over in your arms and looked at you “You’re a good fuck, you’re good with school, yes.” Regina said a bit sternly, almost offended at you asking. “but you don’t look half bad, and I actually happen to enjoy your company” she said under her breath. You wouldn’t know if she actually said that last part if you didn’t feel her breath on your lips.
“And if you want this again, which I know you do, then you’ll get it, understand?” she said cockily again, you didn’t reply but just passionately kissed her, and her hand came to cup your face. “I’ll take that as a yes” This was the nicest Regina ever was up till now, and it warmed you.
She turned back over for you to spoon her and you pulled her close this time and kissed her neck and shoulder. “Thank you, goodnight Regina” you murmured, sleepiness taking over your body.
“Goodnight loser” she replied with no malice in her voice. You nuzzled your face into her shoulder and Regina felt you smile into her shoulder. You were her loser, hers. And hopefully hers for more nights.
——————————————————————————————
In the morning you realized where you were, in Regina George’s bed and reddened at the realization. In the night you switched positions with her, and she really just held you like a teddy bear. You awkwardly slipped your phone out from under the pillow and checked the time, it was around 10AM.
You felt her stir and pull you close to her, and your heart beamed, the snappy Regina George likes to cuddle you. “Good morning” You felt her breathe against your neck.
“Good morning Regina, did you sleep okay?” you replied and turned over to look at her.
She let go to stretch her arms out a bit. “Good, you?”
“I haven’t slept that good in a while” You admitted, her smile full of pride.
“What? You worn out from last night baby” she teased and you just didn’t reply and turned your head into the pillow. You felt her get up out of the bed then you looked at what she was doing. She handed you your clothes from last night.
She threw you a glance and told you “Get dressed we’re going out.” She sat in her desk chair and started putting on make up.
“Wait what?” you asked surprised.
She turned around annoyed and looked at you “We’re going shopping loser, get dressed” she turned back to her mirror and teased “Don’t worry I wont look at you change, not like I didn’t see you naked last night right?” you flustered and got changed.
You sat on the bed waiting for bed to finish getting ready, kicking your feet a bit “Hey Regina, you got any coffee?” you said as she was slipping on her heels.
“Some in the fridge” you kneeled down to get some and opened a bottle of cold coffee.
“Thanks” you turned and saw her put on her black leather jacket, then she walked up to you, and used a finger to tilt your head up.
“You ready to go?” she smiled looking down at you, the heels she wore made her much taller than you. Your face was red and she reveled in the effect she had on you. You just nodded.
——————————————————————————————
You sat in the front passengers seat, and of course Regina had a sexy car too. You had chugged your coffee out of nervousness. Regina told you that Gretchen and Karen ended up at some frat guys house, and picked them up.
When they got in you really stuck out like a sore thumb. Three pretty girls and there was you. While they all talked amongst themselves about their night, you just stared at the road.
After arriving at some mall parking lot, Regina led the three of you through an expensive clothing store, you were in the back following them like a lost dog. Regina instructed them to find clothes for you, and you were stunned, you thought they were here for themselves, and you were there to tag along.
“Y/N, sit there got it?” She pointed at some chairs near a dressing room “We’ll be back.” You went to go sit and waited for them.
Gretchen and Karen came to you first and surprisingly they let you pick the clothes that you felt comfortable wearing. They put the clothes you didn’t choose on a rack and dispersed again to pick out clothes for themself. You yelled a “Thanks guys” before they were out of earshot.
Regina came back and walked toward you, “Hey try this on” she handed you a white wife beater and some ripped jeans and she looked through the clothes the girls had chosen for you, and removed some items from the pile. You saw a plastic bag so she had already bought herself some clothes while she was a walking around.
“Okay” You stepped into a dressing room and slipped the clothes on, you saw how expensive they were and grew anxious. You looked good but you still felt nervous and self-conscious, the shirt revealed your tattoo, which you never showed off. You poked your head out and saw Regina looking at you and raised an eyebrow, wanting to see the outfit.
You stepped out and she got up from her chair and approached you, circling you like prey. It made you nervous. Her hand touched your waist and she spoke, “Wear this with your belt” Regina walked in front of you and tucked the front of the shirt into the pants “You look cute” she put a finger on her lip and looked you up and down.
“Th-thanks” you replied nervously.
Regina then walked behind you and smacked your ass lightly. It made you yelp a little, and she let out a soft chuckle. Her fingers laced through the loops on the jeans on either side and pulled your hips into hers and whispered in your ear “Your ass looks nice in these jeans, wear this outfit tonight” Then she nipped at your ear, and you suddenly felt hot. She traced your shoulder again "Also show this off more often"
You stammered out “What’s tonight?” She let go of you and smiled.
“Another party of course” she sat down in the chair and crossed her legs “Get changed again, then let’s go pay”
When you stepped out, Regina took the clothes from you and handed you her bag of clothes to hold, and went to go to the register to pay for you. “You really don’t have to do that Regina it’s fine,” you said, feeling bad if she paid.
“If I’m going to be seen again with you tonight, especially on the dance floor, I want you to look good.” she glanced at you and inserted her card. It was nice that she paid even though it was for her own selfish purposes.
“You sure you don’t want me to pay you back” You felt bad because it was pricey.
“Don’t question me baby” She threw you a glare and walked past you handing you the bag of clothes making you hold both bags but you didn’t really mind that. And you nodded obediently.
Gretchen and Karen were also paying and when you all were reunited at the entrance, you offered to hold their bags as well, which they let you. You walked around more with them at the mall, Gretchen and Karen ended up walking off on their own to another part of the mall, then it was just you and Regina again.
You both were talking comfortably, even though your heart was racing, you wanted to tease her back a bit. You sat at a table, sitting across from each other, drinking some soda, then you leaned forward, elbows on the table resting your head in your hands smiling “So you really do enjoy my company don’t you”.
She rolled her eyes, “Whatever you think”
“Oh come on, you said it last night, I remember it” You tilted your head to the side and grinned wider.
She crossed her legs and her arms and was frustrated “I did, so what? We were drunk and high” She spat, and it almost hurt your feelings. She then put on a devious smile “And if you keep acting like a brat about it, you’ll regret it tonight, understand me, baby?”
Heat instantly went between your legs at what she was insinuating but you continued your facade of confidence “Regret it how?” you laughed and said “Should I fuck around and find out? or be good for you?”
She returned your sentiment “Up to you, either way you’ll end up begging” That made your facade crumble away and you felt your face grow red, and she just relished in your shyness, knowing she won.
Once you were reunited with them again, Regina drove Gretchen and Karen to their respective dorms, and you last. Before you got out the car she grabbed your shirt again and pulled you in for a quick kiss. “Meet back at mine at around 7, got it? I’ve got another errand to run”
“Yeah, I’ll see you there, thanks for taking me out today” You stepped out and waved.
“Mmhm whatever, thank me later” her tone was mean but she pulled her sunglasses down a little and gave you a look that made your heart flutter for a moment.
She drove away and you walked into your dorm where your two friends were. “Hey guys” you put your bag of clothes down and kicked your boots off.
“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in” Your friend Jade said to you.
“Yeah a bag of clothes Jade it isn’t a big deal” you replied tired of walking around “Turn around I’m changing”
Max and Jade turned around but still probed at the topic “But you were with the Regina George last night” Jade said.
“And you slept in her dorm” Max added, you changed into your comfortable pjs to lounge around in until 7 o’clock approached
“You can turn back around now” you said and they turned toward you arms crossed
“Details please” they both said and you sighed defeated.
“Promise me you won’t tell a soul” you put your pinkies out for them and the promised.
“Of course Y/N”
You sat on your bed and they sat across from you on Max’s bed, and you huffed out “Fine, she found me, we smoked a bong, and then we left, got an Uber to her dorm and we fucked” you sighed.
Max smiled “I would say sorry for losing you last night, but It seems like you had a great time without us” and pointed to your neck. You had completely forgot you had a hickey there and you were cherry red in the face. Jade and Max laughed at your obliviousness.
“But come on was it good?” Jade pressed.
You had grabbed a pillow and stuffed your mouth and nose into it “yes, she liked my tattoo” you said through the pillow.
“Does she like you? Was it a fling or does she want you again?”
“I don’t know, but she’s insinuated she wanted to fuck again” you mumbled.
Max and Jade high-fived each other “Y/N getting laid with the prettiest girl around” Max said teasing you.
Jade and Max were actually pretty sociable and had connections to parties, so when they got you as a roommate they took you on as their token introvert.
Jade laughed and added wiping away fake tears “They grow up so fast” You threw the pillow at them and their laughter only grew. Once they regained composure, Jade asked “There’s another party tonight, you coming with? Regina might be there” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you held up your middle finger.
“Actually, Regina invited me out to the party with her friends..” you grabbed the bag of clothes and took out the outfit Regina bought for you “that’s what this is for, she bought it for me”
They whooped and cheered, then Max spoke “She must really like you then Y/N” They paused and looked at your anxious face “Don’t sweat it, you’re gonna be hot shit tonight”
“I hope so” You ran your fingers through your hair.
7 o’clock approached faster than you expected, it was already 6:20 and you had gotten some notes done for a class. Then you started to change into the outfit Regina chose for you, you ripped off the tags and threw them in the recycling trashcan near the mirror, putting on your clothes. Max whistled when you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “Regina has good taste”
“In clothes or people?” you asked, while putting your belt on
“Both Y/N” Max walked up to you and fixed your hair a little. You sat and bounced your knee anxiously “Breathe you already fucked her once you’ll be fine” you just felt silly, your outfit wasn’t too out of your comfort zone but you were scared again.
Max patted your shoulder. “You’re fine, you should wear that gold cross necklace you have, it’d look good with your outfit” you grabbed it and handed it to Max to clasp around your neck.
It was an indulgence purchase from months ago, you saw it and decided you needed it, it was actually expensive and real gold too. You were rather attracted to shiny things, and people like Regina.
Jade was absorbed in some video on her laptop and Max beckoned her “Jay look at them” She paused her video and looked at you.
“Wow go get ‘em tiger” Jade said jokingly, you rolled your eyes and cringed at her
“What are you my dad?” you grinned and then looked at your phone, “Ah shit I should head out now guys” You grabbed your small cross bag and slung it over your shoulder.
“We’ll see you at the party!” Max and Jade called out, you waved them goodbye. Then you walked to Regina’s dorm, it was about a 10-15 minute walk away and you texted her to let you into the building. You were only 3 minutes early.
Y/N: Hey Regina i’m outside, mind letting me in?
Regina G :0 : Be down in a sec
You didn’t wait long as she opened the door for you and led you back to her dorm. She didn’t look at you just yet, she was in a hurry to get back and finish getting ready. When she was finished getting ready, she stepped in front of the mirror and ensured her outfit looked good. She wore a pink shirt that complimented her breast well and black leggings and heeled boots. Then she turned around to you.
She hummed in approval and then you were red again. She traced the gold cross you wore. “Nice touch”. She grazed your arms which were nicely toned but not super muscular.
“Thank you” you stood awkwardly as she was staring at your outfit and your body. You avoided eye contact.
“Real gold?” she took the cross into her hands and looked at the fine details, you nodded. “Consider me impressed” you breathed out a sigh of relief only for her to pull you by your belt into a kiss. “You ready for this little wallflower?”
“Yeah” you said quietly.
She handed you her leather jacket “Hold this for me, don’t lose it” the she leaned over to apply her lipstick and walked back over to you pressing a few kiss marks to your cheek and neck. “Don’t wipe that off either” She pulled her phone out “Just waiting for Gretchen, Karen and Cady now”
——————————————————————————————
You left your bag at Regina’s since you assumed you’d come back for it anyway but took an unopened pack of Marlboros and a lighter and put it in Regina’s jacket. It was about 8 o’clock that you all left, Cady drove you all to the house party. Regina sat in the front leaving you with Gretchen and Karen in the back. You held Regina’s jacket in your lap.
Karen and Cady were the more amicable of the four in the car. Karen leaned and looked at your back "You've got tattoos Y/N" Suddenly Gretchen leaned over and looked at you.
"You do" She was also surprised "looks good on you"
You swore you saw Regina glance over at you raising an eyebrow, it screamed 'told you I was right nerd'.
Karen complimented your tattoos and asked many follow-up questions you weren't prepared for, but she leaned in and whispered "Regina likes them, she keeps staring at you through the mirror"
Before you could reply back thanks, Cady parked at the curb near the house where you could already hear music, the houses in this neighborhood were huge. Gretchen opened her door first hopping out, and let Karen out. Karen sent you a wink before shutting the door.
Regina led them to the door and opened it, all eyes were on her again. But since you walked in together it felt like they were on you. You all grabbed drinks before Karen and Gretchen dragged Cady to the dance floor. You grabbed some Jack and Coke and Regina just poured herself some Pink Whitney. “Hey Regina can I try some of yours?” you asked trying to loosen up before the alcohol kicked in.
“It’s vodka sweetie, aren’t you a lightweight?” you nodded She placed her cup down and picked up the bottle of Pink Whitney and a clean shot glass and poured you a shot, handing it to you “Bottoms up” You drank it and it burned on the way down but it was sweet and decadent much like Regina herself. She mouthed ‘Good pet’ and smirked then dragged you to the dance floor where you were already tipsy.
“Regina, can I wear your jacket for now so I don’t lose it?” you said loud enough for her to hear through the music and people, she nodded and continued to dance. Your bodies were close together and you were drunk. Alcohol was the best social lubricant.
You danced together and at some points she took your hand and let you spin her around. You had to extend your arms a little bit more than if you were her height and if she wasn’t wearing heels.
You turned your back for a little when you heard Jade and Max call after you and you greeted them, they said they saw you and Regina together and playfully punched your shoulder, and then heard Regina’s voice “Get off me weirdo!” you turned to see some frat guy with his arm wrapped around Regina’s waist.
“Dance with me” he slurred his words very drunkenly but he wouldn’t let go of Regina and she wiggled her way out of his grasp.
“I'm here with someone, get lost” Regina spat.
“Yeah where is he then huh?” The guy stepped up to her, this guy was easily almost a foot taller than you, but Regina didn’t care and she pulled your arm and you instinctively hooked your arm around the back of her waist.
You glared at him and Regina pulled your face towards hers kissing you in front of him and someone others watched, a shy little nobody that no one’s seen is kissing the Regina George. You were drunk and didn’t care, you were pissed this guy wouldn’t leave her alone. Your hand trailed down to her ass momentarily and you both broke the kiss.
He was about to say something else but Gretchen, Karen, and Cady showed up, “Leave her be, fucking jackss” he just scoffed as more people were watching and walked to another girl. You and Regina quickly let go of each other, you wiped off her lipstick from your lips.
Her friends were checking on her and she was just dusting her outfit off obviously irritated as well but she just kept saying she was fine. You were seething inside and chugged the rest of your cup but maintained composure “Regina you okay?”
She looked up at you and snapped “I’m fine Y/N” and she looked at her friends “I’m fine, gonna get more to drink” She stormed off and her friends just stood looking at each other but you weaved your way through the crowd following her.
“Regina” you put a hand on her shoulder, she poured more alcohol into her cup, and she ignored you “Regina let’s go outside for a second” You saw an open case of water and took one out. “Come on Regina please?”
She gave you a death stare but she found the backyard, opened the sliding door, and you followed her when you were alone she sneered at you “I’m fine seriously lay off it” You dare not take her alcohol but you handed her the bottle of water and she sat in a folding chair.
You took out the cigarettes and the lighter and then slipped the jacket off to place around Regina’s shoulders. You sat next to her and opened the pack of cigarettes, placed a piece of gum in your mouth so it wouldn’t taste bad, and lit the cigarette. She drank a third of the water you gave her.
“Smoke break?” you passed her the cigarette and smiled a little, she took it from you wordlessly. You just looked down at your phone and let her have her silence. You got a couple messages from Max and Jade including a picture of Regina and you from the 2nd floor window. You looked at Regina who was turned away from you and then you looked up behind where you saw your friends giving you thumbs up, you flipped them off quickly.
Regina passed the cigarette back to you and you took a long puff. Then she spoke “Men are such jack asses, ugh” she crossed her legs and complained, you listened. “Like get the fuck of of me” she rolled her eyes and then you flicked the ash off and passed the cigarette back to her.
She ranted on for a while before she turned back to you, and murmured a soft “Thanks though” she flicked the cigarette butt away but it landed toward your feet, you picked it up and stuffed it in your pocket to throw away later. Both of you were still thoroughly intoxicated so you felt like you could tease her a little bit.
You put a cigarette in your mouth used one hand to protect it from the wind and one hand lit it up, you took a long puff before smirking. “Regina George? Saying ‘thank you’? I can’t believe my ears” You passed her the cigarette again.
“Shut it nerd” She took a deep breath of the cigarette and blew it at your face. You were glad to see her back to her snarky teasing ways.
“Or what?” You challenged her with no intention of winning. “You gonna punish me, Regina?” You leaned back in your chair and spread your legs to get comfortable, but she stood up.
She walked in front of your chair and towered over you “It seems like that’s what you want” her knee pushed harshly between your thighs, one hand on the back of your chair and the other still holding the cigarette. She looked down at you and you smiled wider, knowing she was back in a better mood. “You better wipe that smug smile off your face L/N”
You tried leaning up to kiss her but she straightened herself out of your reach and shoved her knee harder into your cunt. You whined “Regina” You looked up at her and she held the cigarette to your mouth and watched you inhale, you turned your head to not blow the smoke at her. She looked at you expecting you to say or do something. You put your hands up in defeat “I’m sorry Gina please forgive me” You wanted a taste of her lips.
“Again” she said smiling down at you cruelly, and you swore she could feel the pulse between your legs.
“Regina please, I'm sorry I was joking, I’ll be good now” You put your hands down on your thighs and leaned forward again “Please kiss me”
Like yesterday, she breathed smoke into your mouth. Regina leaned down towards your lips and you inhaled what she gave you, and she pressed her lips to yours. She pulled away and said “You’re forgiven, I suppose”
“Thank you goddess” You smiled at her more timidly. She removed her knee from between your legs and finished off the last of the cigarette. Before she could flick it onto the ground somewhere, you put your hand out to take it from her.
“Oh a good Samaritan too aren’t you?” she taunted you and handed it to you to put in your pocket. She looked you up and down again her eyes lingering at your necklace, then she smirked “Well, God bless you baby” she said seductively, and started to walk away “Let's go back inside shall we?”
She walked ahead of you and you looked up at the window to see if your friends were still there, and they were. Jade mouthed to you ‘bottom’ and you rolled your eyes, then speed walked to catch up with Regina.
Regina got a message and then took your hand and led you upstairs, to a room with a pool table and in the corner, Gretchen, Karen, Cady, and Janis, with two guys you assumed were gonna go home with some of them tonight. They passed around a bong and Regina looked back at you and said quietly. “Hope I trained you well last night, or does my stray need help again?” She sat down next to Cady on the couch and you sat on Regina’s right.
Regina got her turn and then it was yours thankfully you did it right. You passed it around maybe three times and talked and didn’t get awkward or anything, when it was your turn again Regina leaned to whisper in your ear, “Let me know when you wanna go back to mine, I have a surprise” a hand lightly traced the back of your neck and you coughed out then she leaned away to talk to Cady.
You stayed a while, just chatting, and you were pretty sobered up, but you felt needier. You let Regina finish her conversation before tapping Regina’s arm and nodding your head. Then Regina stood up “Cady, me and nerd are heading home now, just gonna take an Uber” You and Regina said bye to everyone else and walked out. Walking out the door she interlaced her fingers with yours.
——————————————————————————————
Regina traced the inner part of your thigh in the car and you had to bite back a whine when she got too close to your core, and you returned the favor pulling her leg apart slightly as well. Your stomach filled with butterflies.
When you got to her dorm she took her jacket off and kissed you relentlessly, both of you kicking off your shoes. Regina undid your belt and slipped a hand underneath your underwear and felt how wet you were. “Been waiting all night for this pet?” she dragged her finger from your entrance to your clit and pressed lightly.
“Yes, I want you, please” you begged, she took her hand out and licked her finger clean.
“Strip for me and kneel in front of the bed, like yesterday” She commanded and you were happy to follow, you took your gold necklace off and placed it on the desk and rid the rest of your clothes. Her back was turned to you and you heard her opening something while you stripped and went on your knees.
“Hey Regina? Can I keep a shirt on?” she turned to you and you were in nothing but held her pink t-shirt you wore last night.
She was amused to see you wear her clothes “Yeah, sure” she went back to fumbling with something and you put the shirt on and stared at your knees.
When you glanced up at her, she wore only her shirt and lace panties now which made you blush and look at the ground, then you heard a clink of metal. Regina sat on the bed right in front of you, and you looked up and saw what she held. A pretty black collar with a tag on the front engraved with the words “Regina’s Pet” and a ring on the back and front of the collar for a leash or for her to tug on.
“Hey you sober right?” her voice was soft and caring, which surprised you.
“Yes, I am” you replied quietly you were eager.
“Do you want this around your neck?” Regina unclasped it and held it in front of you.
Your mouth went dry and you said “yes” weakly.
“Good” she leaned down and fastened the collar onto your neck. “You’re my pet now, yeah?” she hooked her finger through the loop on the front and pulled you close.
“Yes” is all you could manage to say as she beckoned you to straddle her lap. Your legs were spread as you sat on her and she inspected the collar on you.
“is it too tight?” she yanked on it a little and stuck two fingers between your neck and the collar.
“No- no, it’s good thank you” you were nervous again.
“You’re familiar with the color system, yes?” Regina asked.
You nodded “Green for good, yellow for slow down and red for stop”
“Good you’re gonna need it” She replied and kissed your lips
She let go of your collar and one hand was against your back and the other trailed up your thigh and pressed lightly on your clit. “So about you being a bit bratty earlier today..” she circled your clit gently and she stared into your eyes, “I think I have to discipline you a bit, yeah?”
You were willing to do anything she asked really, and said “Yes” She rewarded that answer with her moving pressing slightly harder, you ached wanting more “I’m sorry Regina, I’ll be good” she let out an approving hum.
“Tell me when you’re close baby, don’t finish unless I say so,” She said, “can you do that for me?”
“Yes” and she rewarded you by pressing against your clit faster “Ah, Jesus- Regina, it feels good” you moaned out and rested your head in the crook of her neck. “Faster please,” you begged needing more friction.
“God you’re so fucking pathetic” but she obliged and touched you faster. “You like when I call you pathetic baby?”
“Fuck, yes!” each thrum against your clit sent you closer and closer to orgasm, and you felt your stomach tighten and your legs trembled “Regina I’m close,” But as soon as you said that her fingers were off you and you whined “No.. please, let me come” your orgasm dissipated and your clit ached.
“Mm no” she responded back, “Lay down spread your legs” You climbed off her and spread your legs, and she lifted the shirt to reveal your wet cunt to her. You closed your legs when she stared, but she pried them back open. She started at your inner thigh and left kisses, marks, and bites all the way up to your pussy, where she licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You arched your back wanting more.
She licked your clit gently at first and then harder, “Regina” you gasped out, and you bucked your hips into her face then she pushed them back down. You looked down and you saw her looking back at you while she ate your pussy out. She flicked her tongue across your clit and you said her name between moans and pants.
While her tongue abused your clit she gathered your slick around her fingers and slid two digits inside you, making you gasp. Pumping her fingers in and out hitting your g-spot your legs began to shake again “Fuck, I’m close. Please don’t stop mommy” But she pulled away leaving you on the edge again. She moved up and kissed you, tasting your wetness on her tongue.
“You’re doing so good for me, pet” She praised and kissed you again letting you rest before she edged you again. “Color?”
“Green” you replied, the ache between your legs hurt but it felt so good to be at the end of her wrath. Then she went back down to lick your clit again, slower this time wanting to draw out your agony a little bit.
She pulled away to look at your cunt “You have such a pretty pussy, you know that pet?” she then thrust two fingers back inside you before you could respond, curling them against your g-spot, your back arched again, making your collar clink slightly and she went back down to lick your clit again.
Her tongue slowly increased speed and pressure as she licked circles around the bud, her fingers still moving inside you. Suddenly she sucked on your clit and you almost fell over the edge “Wait! close- fuckk” you said to her and she stopped again, you didn’t want to come without her permission, you wanted to be good for her.
You were sexually frustrated, tears pricked at the corner of your eye and she took her clean hand and wiped them away “Does your pussy ache sweetie?” her tone was sadistic as she smiled. You just nodded and she cooed “My poor pet” you whined as she teased you. “One more time, can you handle it?”
You nodded eagerly and she lifted your shirt revealing your tummy and left marks down your stomach to your pussy once more, you involuntarily bucked your hips and she slammed your hips down against the mattress, she was stronger than she let on. She started licking once more and it drove you crazy, your clit was sensitive from the edging, she sucked on it occasionally. Then slid two fingers inside you again. “Regina” you drew out her name and she bit gently at your clit. “You feel so good..” then you were sure you could feel her smirk between your legs.
Your legs trembled again as she licked over your clit directly and relentlessly. A third finger stretched your pussy, and you moaned her name again and again. You pleaded “Regina please, please let me come, please” you whined out and looked down waiting for approval, but she just looked at you and sucked your clit hard. “Regina, please- fuck! I can’t, I can’t hold it, please I’m all yours please”
You were about to come crashing over the edge and then she lifted her head replacing her tongue with her thumb and she strummed your clit quickly “Go on baby, come for me” You almost screamed her name but she kissed you and muffled your sounds, she pulled away from the kiss.
The only words that came out of your mouth as you came was her name “thank you” and “don’t stop” She loved watching the scene before her. Her collared pet writhing and coming under her touch. Regina only stopped when you pushed her hand away, overstimulated.
She put her fingers in your mouth “Clean up your mess pet” you sat up and licked her fingers clean.
When you finished you kissed her hand and murmured “Thank you for letting me finish” she smiled and grabbed a water bottle from her table and held it to your mouth. Your mouth was dry from moaning her name so much.
“You okay there nerd?” she asked gently. She was worried she was too rough on you.
“I’m all good, my legs just feel like jelly” you gave a soft smile and she leaned down to kiss one of your legs. She smiled back at you.
“You up to return the favor?” she straddled your hips as she waited for your answer. You pulled her by the collar of her shirt like she’s done to you and kissed her.
You let her pull away and said “Of course” and she pulled her panties off.
She moved up so her pussy was right over your mouth, she was practically dripping “Be a good doll and make me feel good” She lowered herself onto your mouth and you greedily licked her pussy, you loved how she tasted and you grabbed her hips to put her full weight onto you.
She groaned and began to grind against your tongue, you guided her hips back and forth and she started to move her hips faster “Oh fuck Y/N” you saw her close her eyes. “You’re such a good fuck toy aren’t you?” you moaned at her words and it sent vibrations through her clit “Do that again baby, touch yourself while I ride you” You reached a hand down between your legs and moaned against her again. Your body was sensitive too and you moaned loudly at how overstimulated your clit was.
Your other hand now moved to her ass and you squeezed it digging your nails into her ass and pushing her further down into your face. “God, you’re so good at pleasing me” she gripped your hair and moaned “Don’t stop, please” she sounded desperate and who were you to deny her pleasure when she asked so nicely?
As she approached her orgasm you felt her legs start to squeeze your head a little, and you also got closer, thrumming your finger against your clit. “Fuck I’m close, are you close baby?” she looked down at you “Can you come with me?” you nodded and sucked her clit harder she moaned your name and streams of obscenities, “Fuck- baby” is what she got out before her back arched and she tilted her head back. You moaned into her as your orgasm followed quickly after. She rode your face prolonging her ecstasy as long as possible and then she lifted off you.
You wiped off your face a little before she kissed you again “You’re perfect” you got out between her kissing you.
She climbed off the bed and held her hand out to you, “Let's get cleaned up, how’s that sound?”
You just took her hand and followed her to the bathroom attached to her room. She turned the shower on and got rid of her shirt, then turned to you, undoing your collar. Then you also stripped your shirt off.
She was so sweet it actually caught you off guard. She let you into the shower and asked “You sure you’re okay?” then started to wash your hair.
“I’m way more than okay Regina” you looked up at her and she continued to wash your hair gently “Did you have fun?” You wondered.
“Mmhm, I rode your face and came all over it, of course, I had fun” She rinsed your hair and you began to soap her hair up as well. You turned her around washed the ends of her hair and kissed her shoulder. "I also enjoy making a mess out of you, I hope I wasn't too rough on you"
"You weren't, it felt amazing" you whispered and placed another kiss on her shoulder.
She took a washcloth and washed her own body. Then turned you around, Regina started to lightly wash your back and shoulders "You're so cute" you heard her say quietly, while she washed the rest of the suds away.
When you hopped out of the shower she handed you a towel and you dried yourself off. You wrapped the towel around yourself and followed her back to the room where she got you clean clothes once again.
Instead of crawling into bed right away, Regina was seated on the edge of her bed and actually patted the empty space next to her, you sat next to her “I want to be very clear to you” her voice was serious with an air of worry to it.
Suddenly you felt like you did something wrong and apologized “Shit Regina did I do something wro-“
She cut you off “No! no, you didn’t,” she said quickly “Just listen okay?” Regina was nervous, and you knew she didn’t like to feel coddled but you grabbed her hand trying to support her and she let you. “I like you Y/N, not just to fuck or for homework” Your jaw dropped and she got defensive. “We don’t have to do this-“
“Regina, you like me like…” you paused to breathe “Crush like me?” you gripped her hand tighter hoping you interpreted that right.
“What other kind of ‘like’ is there for a confession, dumbass” she was rude and then apologetic “Sorry” you just laughed.
“You’re fine Regina, I can take when you’re mean to me” and brought your hand up to your lips and kissed it gently “But why? You have so many other people lined up for you other than me, and I’m like, socially awkward and weird”
“The awkwardness is a little charming” She claimed. “You were also hard to read at first, so quiet too. Like a little mouse”
You smiled "Glad you think so" and you kissed her hand again “You’re a little scary Regina”
“I know it’s a blessing and a curse” She just smiled back at you.
You stared at your intertwined hands “I didn’t know you liked me, like that” you bit your tongue “I thought you were just kidding, I’m kind of slow, aren’t I?”
“A bit,” she smiled “It’s okay loser, I know I send mixed signals sometimes, but I was flirting with you all those times before yesterday just so you know” Shit you were really slow.
You leaned in and kissed her “I like you a lot” You broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. You opened your mouth to say, ‘Please be mine’, but nothing came out.
Regina still looked a little nervous "I meant what I said you know, you're mine" She said possessively, she paused and was about to say something else but you cut in.
"I want you Regina, and I want to be yours as well." You declared
She poked fun at your statement "You're so cheesy" and pushed you away slightly and playfully. "Just get in the bed" You stood and lifted the covers and climbed in and let her in as well.
You laid on your back and she was on her side, she looked at you like she was admiring your features. Then you turned to ogle in realization, dumbfounded, "Wait you're my girlfriend now right?"
She flicked your forehead earning an "Ow" from you. She rolled her eyes "Yes loser, and for someone so smart, you're kinda dumbass too"
You grinned wide, "Your dumbass though right?"
The corners of her lips tugged up slightly, showing she enjoyed your small cheesy banter with her "Shut up"
"Fiiine" You inched closer to her and kissed her passionately, "Goodnight Regina" She turned over and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her.
"Goodnight nerd" she said tiredly.
You smirked and mumbled quietly "Your nerd" and you just heard a tsk sound and fell asleep with this beautiful goddess in your arms.
(heyyyy just wanted to add here at the bottom, that i moved really fast with all the kinky shit and collar stuff. this isn’t a perfect representation of bdsm, so please do your research! [I might rewrite a version of this over on ao3 to be longer so i can better portray that stuff realistically {also it’s because i feel bad}])
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We have communities - Writing disability quick tips
So often, stories centred on disabled characters, especially in modern settings, emphasise how lonely or isolated the character is because of their disability, especially if it’s a newly acquired disability or one that non-disabled people assume would have a big impact on our ability to do “fun stuff”. This will often be accompanied by statements of “no-one understands what living with [insert disability here]” is like!
And while isolation and loneliness are things a lot of disabled people deal with, a lot of us are not completely alone either, especially in the modern day.
Just like any group of people with shared experiences, we find one another. Sometimes this is through formal systems; some spinal rehabilitation centres for example, will pair newly paralysed people up with a mentor who’s had a similar form of paralysis for much longer to help guide the person while the adjust to their new disability. Other more formal systems can look like disability sporting organisations - the one I used to work for used to specifically encourage very newly disabled people to join so they didn’t feel like the had to learn everything about their disability alone, or support groups.
Other times though, these communities are much less formal. They may look like online forums, such as the ones on Reddit, built by and for disabled people to talk about their experiences and seek recommendations from others in the same boat, or parts of larger social media sites. For example, on Tumblr, there aren’t really any formal groups, but thanks to the hashtags we use in our posts, we often find one another fairly quickly there. We sometimes also carve out our own little subsections of fandom or hobby spaces, brought together by the shared interest itself, how things like disability might impact the way you interpret or interact with it, and how we can modify it (in the case of hobbies) to make it work for us.
A lot of disability communities, formal or otherwise, also form out of necessity, such as advocacy groups run by and for disabled people, and those built around ensuring the rights of disabled people are protected.
Isolation and loneliness are problems within the disabled community that many of us deal with, but this tends to be more in the context of isolation from the wider public, exclusion from public spaces and events (despite there being laws that are supposed to stop this because they’re often not enforced), disconnect from non-disabled friends and family, etc, most of which are the result of systematic issues or the lack of understanding or care and support from non-disabled people in our lives. Not always, but often.
The communities made by and for disabled people though are often (at least in part) made to help make up for this, and they’re more common than you might think, you just have to know where to look. It would be nice to see more creators reflecting this in their work a bit more often, or at least acknowledging that they are there, even if your character chooses not to engage with them.
However, as a reminder to authors and creatives:
These communities, especially the online ones, are for disabled people, they are not there for you to use as a reference as a creator. Some communities are ok with you being there to learn, so long as you listen and don’t try to speak over/bombard their members with questions. Others are not. The ones that are, typically will have something written somewhere if it’s online (e.g. subreddits that accept writers wanting to write disabled characters will often have it written in the “about” section or the rules). There are also dedicated groups and platforms for non-disabled people seeking to learn more about us and our communities, which can be excellent resources for creatives like writers. Just remember to be mindful of where you are and respectful of people’s spaces and boundaries when doing your research.
#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg#Quick tips#Disability#Disabled#Disability Representation#Writing Disability#Writing#Writeblr#Authors#Creators#Writing Advice#Disabled Characters#On Writing
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Promise
a/n yes im using the princess! reader who's about to be forced into a political marriage with anakin again,, and what about it the vibe is so fun to me, also i love jealous anakin
warnings: 18+!!! smut (he broke me down) written by someone whose only experience comes from fanfics, so pls be nice,, also written in 1st person bc that was the vibe when i started and i didn't realize this was going to get smutty (i'm sorry yall😭 it's still my best tense)
Summary: As a princess, your future is set in stone. You'll marry someone your father picks for you to aid your country. All of this you've accepted...until you befriend Anakin Skywalker, who was originally assigned to guard you during a time of political unrest on your home planet.
----
He's still near the door, arms crossed and expression as stoic as it was when he first interrupted my meeting to escort me to an urgent consultation with my father.
I understand that publicly we need to remain as indifferent as physically possible and that any sort of friendliness we display needs to seem completely surface level. But we're not in public anymore and usually the transition from appropriate indifference to something much warmer is instant.
"...How urgent is urgent?"
The question is more for our sake than anything else. I want to hear his voice outside of the stiff way he interrupted the meeting with that last suitor. He had barely looked at me as he mumbled something about my father. I want it to feel light the way it usually does between us. I want him to make one of those jokes that always has me rolling my eyes or to smile or--or to do anything that makes him feel like Anakin.
The urge to study him begins to make it hard to just stand there so I turn towards my vanity. What I'm wearing isn't exactly inappropriate for a closed door meeting, but it's more formal than I'd like and a little itchy. If I have time to change into something more standard, I'll take it. "If I call Raina in here I can be in something a lot more comfortable in five minutes."
No response. I smooth my hair back with my palms, eyes subtly shifting towards his reflection in the mirror. Anakin's taken the slightest step forward. "Anakin?"
His head tilts downwards, eyes briefly meeting mine in the mirror before darting away. There's something about the way he's holding himself that would feel bashful it was less stiff. "There is no meeting."
"What?" My head instinctually snaps in his direction. Anakin's already watching me. "You--you made up an emergency?"
This is--Anakin interrupted a meeting with the first suitor that didn't make my skin crawl. I wouldn't have been thrilled to walk down the aisle with him, but I could have likely learned to be content with him. At least he believes that women can do more than just be brides and raise children. He'd allow me to participate in some community work to bond with his people and I'd be able to visit home.
But that's besides the point. He could have been the most repulsive candidate my father had found for me and it still wouldn't have justified what Anakin did. I don't walk out of meetings. Ever. If my father finds out about this...
"Do you have any idea what my father will do if he finds out?" I sit the edge of my vanity's seat with a tired sigh. There has to be some excuse. I could blame it on sickness or a misunderstand or--
"Then I'll take the blame." Anakin's words pull me out of my thoughts. His voice is still stiff and lacking its usual warmth in a way that only adds to my unease. Why is he acting like this? "I'll tell him that it was my fault and that I misunderstood your schedule debriefing."
My fingers dig into the soft fabric of my dress that's pooling over the seat. "Don't." My voice sounds so small, so vulnerable I have to hate myself for it. "He might take that the wrong way and--" I exhale slowly, forcing myself to cling to rationality. "And he might arrange your removal."
Anakin scoffs. What is his issue? "Like that'd bother you."
My throat tightens. After everything we've been through, after telling him things that I've never been able to tell anyone...How can he just dismiss all of it? And why is he being so mean? "What?"
"You've found your ideal suitor and now you can get married and be sent away and never--" Anakin cuts himself off, eyes tearing away so quickly like there's painful about looking at me. "You don't need me anymore."
Oh. That's what this is about. "Anakin." He's staring at some distant point on my wall. "That's not true. You know it isn't."
Everything about him remains stiff. "You were smiling." He briefly glances at me, eyebrows drawn together so sharply it tugs at something in my chest. "A real smile, not your practiced one." Anakin lets out a sigh that feels as pointed as a sarcastic laugh. "And you laughed."
"What?" I'm not miserable in one meeting and now he's acting like I hate him. "I--I might have been making the best of it because he's the first suitor who didn't spend the entire time listing off the requirements for his bride, but that isn't the same as liking him." And even if I liked him, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it really undermine our entire friendship if I found a way to be married and not miserable? "I'm going to have to marry one of them at some point, and I d--"
"Don't marry him." Anakin blurts the sentence out in one wavering breath. The letters run together so closely it feels more like a single word.
For a moment, all the shaky request does is sit between us. I've been on several outings and meetings with potential suitors and Anakin's never reacted like this. What was so wrong about this last one? "Don't marry him? What do--"
Anakin's eyes finally meet mine. The way he's looking at me stings, all glossy eyes and a pouty frown that's trying its best to be harsh. He seems more pained than angry and that's somehow worse.
Don't marry him. The words too strained and small to be about just the man from earlier. Don't marry him means don't marry any of them.
Oh.
I scratch the back of my wrist as Anakin's eyes drop to the ground. He knows that I have no interest in marrying for my father, but even if I did, why would that bother him?
With a sigh, I push myself to stand. Why it upsets him doesn't matter. So much is already weighing on him.
Anakin doesn't look up as I start walking towards him. "I--I can't promise that." My nails dig into the skin of my palm. "I wish I could." The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "But it doesn't matter." Anakin's rigid as I carefully extend my hand and bend my fingers against his forearm. "You're always going to be important to me."
He pulls his arm forward instinctually. My hold on him loosens, but before I can take my hand back, Anakin adjusts his to squeeze mine. He's holding on just tight enough for it to feel uncomfortable, but I don't mind it. It's grounding.
"Until you're married." He's staring at where our hands sit between us. There's something I should say, something comforting and easing. Nothing's coming to mind. The reality of the situation is set in stone. I'll have to marry eventually and that--that will change things. But it'll never change the way I feel about Anakin.
Anakin, who always listens when I need to purge all of the resentment about the rules that control my life. Anakin, who sits with me when I can't sleep. Anakin, who has the worst sense of humor that can always pull a smile from me even when it feels impossible.
He moves our hands, releasing my hand at my side. The brief loss of contact makes my ribs feel cracked. "No." It's instinctual. "It's--" I reach forward, hand reaching for his arm. "You're the only person I can tell anything to, the only one that never expects anything from me and just--just likes me for who I am."
The realization that Anakin might be the only true friend I've ever had hits me hard and fast. All of that and a part of me has always been selfish enough to imagine what it'd be like to live in a different world that could allow for more. Though, that's barely been a thought that I've allowed myself to have. Neither of us are in a position to get attached to anyone in that way, and even if we were, Anakin wouldn't see me that way. Besides, his friendship is no small thing, so it definitely takes the sting out of the impossible.
"Who wouldn't?" The comment comes out so soft, so absentminded I nearly melt on the spot.
A lifetime of being a daughter instead of a son has a reflexive a lot of people attempting to crawl up my throat. I swallow the bitterness like bile before I can make this about me and settle on a much lighter, "You'd be surprised."
Any lift in his expression falls again. "You don't see it."
I do try to think about it, but nothing that makes sense comes to mind. "See what?" Anakin pauses, lips pressing together. I'm expecting some kind of response. Instead, Anakin shakes his head once dismissively. "Tell me." His lack of response has me gently shoving his shoulder. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."
He lets out a small breath, we're so close I can feel the warmth of it against my skin. "It's nothing." When my only reaction is to glare, he reaches for my hand. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."
Strange. What does whatever he's talking about have to do with what we were talking about? Yes, the suitors want to court me but they want me the same way they want an ornament or my father's leniency in a business deal. Before I can remind him of this, his hand finds my shoulder.
If Anakin notices the way I freeze, he gives no indication of it, he just trails his thumb up and down the start of my collarbone. It's not the first time he's done this, but until now the gesture has been reserved for late nights when I can't sleep. I'm so used to it being soothing that it immediately gets rid of any fight in my system.
"You've had more meetings recently."
I nod, still too focused on the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. "It's a busy time...celebration season is always elaborate, and things are...tense."
He nods. If there's one thing he knows about, it's the precariousness that seems to be reaching everyone these days. But my time with Anakin is limited. He's been assigned to be my personal guard during the celebration season since the year a political protestor took my mother's life. The season always feels like it will be long, but time always slips away quicker than it should when it comes to Anakin.
I know I shouldn't do this. He doesn't need any type of encouragement after what happened at today's meeting, but something's clearly been weighing on him and I do miss him. The additional events, the public outings, the suitors...all to save face as the threat of war continues to become a more pressing issue. "My father had most of my afternoon blocked off in case that last suitor wanted extra time."
Anakin frowns, his thumb stopping its outlined path across my shoulder. He is so dramatic. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it might sound like I approve of you making up an emergency, but if you don't have anything to do, we can catch up."
He tilts his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Catch up? We're together all day."
I extend an arm, gently pushing him. First, he basically throws a fit because he convinced himself it was possible for me to like a suitor more than him, and now that I want to do something with him, he's trying to make fun of me. "I mean about before you came here. We've barely had time to talk since you've gotten back."
"Okay," his thumb brushes back down where my collarbone meets my shoulder, "We can talk." He squeezes my shoulder before retracting his hand. "The garden or the library?"
Our two most frequented spots. I grin. "The garden, the weather's nice today." He smiles, taking a step back. "Give me a minute to change. I turn away from him, walking towards my closet. "I've been ready to take off this dress since Raina put me in it this morning."
Raina spent longer than a minute trapping me in between scratchy fabric and a stiffly structured top. All of those ties and buttons that I still can't reach. Ugh. I wonder if calling Raina in will lead to more attention being drawn to the fact that I left early. Technically, the official meeting would likely be over by now but my father wanted it to go well. He kept things open in hopes of it lasting a little longer.
It's probably better not to ask. Drawing any attention to me and Anakin isn't the best idea in general. We're good friends, which is okay in front of some people but wrong in front of others. Raina is a little skeptical. It's nothing personal against Anakin, she just knows me too well, which means she reads into things.
I stretch my arm back as far as it'll go and manage to undo the bottom of the lacing and a few buttons. Anything that's more than halfway up my back is impossible to get to. I twist and turn and push and I can't reach.
"Everything alright?"
Anakin's voice carries through the short hall. I sigh, giving the fabric one last desperate tug. "Everything's fine I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut before pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you come here?"
A brief wave of silence that leaves my face burning lingers until the sound of footsteps ends it. Anakin appears in my closet's doorway. "You're okay?"
"Yeah," I mumble, "Yes, I just--I can't get the buttons." As if to make my point, I try again in vain, trying again to reach the tiny clasps.
"You need help?" Anakin's voice comes out lower than usual.
Maybe he feels just as awkward about this. "If it'd be easier, you could just call in Raina."
"No," I can hear his weight shifting off the doorframe, "I can do it."
He takes a few steps forward. Before I know it, he's directly behind me. Anakin smooths a hand over my hair before gently moving it over my shoulder. The way heat begins to crawl up my neck makes me glad that my back is to him. His hand settles against my back.
I pull my arms forward, crossing them in front of my chest. He takes over, fingertips grazing against my back. The longer he works, the looser the dress begins to feel. I should be feeling cooler now that I'm getting closer to just being in my thin layering dress, but all of my earlier warmth and discomfort is now rising up my face.
"Raina put you in this this morning?"
I nod, "Raina woke me up earlier than usual today to make me up." The final button is pulled apart. I have to keep an arm at my chest to keep the dress from pooling at my feet. "I think this might have taken longer than my hair."
The comment is meant to be lighthearted. Instead of taking it that way, Anakin lets out a breath as his hand settles against my hip. "Won't things be easier when you don't have to worry about finding a husband?"
Now it's my turn to sigh. I make a point of pulling his hand off my side. I wander further into my closet. "You know I want nothing to do with this." My grip on the dress tightens, my sudden movement making it harder to keep the heavy dress on. "And if you honestly think I find any joy in being packaged in suffocating fabric and bodices so structured that they stab into my ribs every time I breathe, then you don't know me."
I turn around and let go of the dress, allowing the gown to pool at my feet. I step out of the puddle of fabric before reaching for one of my hangers, a casual day dress that I've barely looked at.
"I didn't mean it that way." His voice comes out low, almost reluctant. It's not enough to ease me, so I make a point of scoffing. Something warm pulls on my forearm. Before I know it, I'm facing with him. Oh. Anakin's closer than I thought he'd be. "I'm sorry." He exhales, voice tight, "Don't be mad, princess."
I keep my expression neutral. Though I'm in no mood to be reminded of my title, Anakin has a way of making it feel like a term of endearment. "If you're bothered by my situation, I understand that." He's staring me with such intensity I have to make the conscious choice to not look away. "I really understand that, but do not treat me like this is my choice. Not all of us are meant for more and can do whatever we want."
"Not whatever I want," he whispers, voice strained.
Now it's my turn to wish I had bitten my tongue. Anakin's told me enough of the stories for me to know that while sometimes the fact that he gets to leave and be an active source of good makes me wish my life was different, his isn't exactly easy.
His eyes hold mine for a beat before drifting downwards. For whatever reason, that makes me aware of the fact that this is likely the least dressed I've ever been in front of anyone. Sure, Anakin's seen me in pajamas and casual wear, but the silk dress under my gown is thin and low cut.
"And don't say that this is what you're meant for." He pulls my arm down with his hand, letting his fingers interlock with mine. "I've seen you in meetings and the way that you care about your people. You don't need to do this."
Again, it's like he's trying to convince me to change my mind. Like this is something that I want. I don't understand what he's trying to convince me to do. "Try telling that to my father."
I'm not sure what it is, but something about Anakin's expression looks a little flatter. Maybe even disappointed. I get it, this isn't exactly a fun topic, and we have no reason to dwell on it now. It's not like I'm getting engaged tonight. And I rarely get time to just be around Anakin, my future marriage has already taken enough from me, it doesn't need to take this too.
"Why are we still talking about this?" I pull my hand back, ready to grab my dress. "It's not like anything's happening now, let's just go to the garden like we--"
Anakin reaches forward before I can turn around, his hand finding my shoulder.
"I--" He cuts himself off, "There's been a rise in meetings with potential suitors, it's not as easy to ignore as it used to be."
I know exactly what he's talking about. All of my energy has been focused on not thinking about that. But that's because it's my inevitable future. How could this possibly matter this much to Anakin? "Ignore what?"
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to know what they're feeling? What they're thinking about you?" Anakin's breath catches itself in his throat, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of my dress. "What they're thinking about doing to you?"
Heat rushes to my face. I try to swallow to clear the lump in my throat but my mouth has gone dry. "Anakin?"
"I've spent so long trying to let you go."
What? Is he--is he saying that he-- "What?"
He tilts his head downwards, "You don't need to do this. I--"
"Don't say it." My hand is quick to grab the one he has on my shoulder. Push him away, I should push him away. My hand won't move. The one person I've always known I won't ever be able to have.
"Why not?" He asks the question so innocently, like he couldn't ever fathom a reason for me to shut this down. After a moment, his eyebrows pull together, a small frown playing at his lips. "You don't want me?"
If this was any less serious, that would have made me laugh. That is, most definitely, not the issue. "That's not true."
He relaxes slightly, his thumb trailing down my shoulder. Before I can explain issues that we both are definitely aware of, he leans impossibly closer. His weight on mine is nearly enough to make me forget the concept of logic entirely.
"Anakin," it's meant to be a warning. The breathiness of my voice takes away all of its severity. "We can't." I'm arguing for more my sake than his. He already knows all of the reasons that we need to agree to remain just friends before things get any more complicated. "What I want doesn't matter. Nothing I've wanted has ever mattered." He hasn't moved away, but at least he isn't trying to get any closer. "And even if it did, it's not like we'd suddenly be able to be together."
Anakin's hand adjusts on my shoulder, his grip tightening. He has the audacity to look like he's not sure what I'm talking about. "The Jedi code?" He blinks, still giving no indication of understanding why everything about us is impossible. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why that matters, chosen one."
He scoffs. "I don't care."
I place my free hand on his chest, willing myself to create some distance between us before my judgement finally lapses. "You can't--you can't say that." My eyes squeeze shut, "I know that it's unfair, but time will pass and you'll feel rational again, and it'll be easier."
"Don't do that." The harsh quality of his voice nearly makes me step back. "Don't treat this like it's a political compromise."
Something about me trying to keep things together the only way I know how is hurting him. I don't know how to get through this without taking the emotion out of it. Still, I don't want to make this harder on him. My hand moves up his chest and rests on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."
He nods slowly, visibly relaxing at my touch, "You're only pushing me away because you're afraid."
"What?"
Anakin's thumb drags across my skin. "You're afraid that if you let yourself even admit that you might want something that your father hasn't decided for you, and that if you're selfish for even a second, your entire world will fall apart."
If it came from anyone else, I'd be offended, but coming from Anakin, it just makes the real reason why I can't just say it and give in hurt more. "That's not it." Anakin doesn't respond. He wants me to say more and I'm not sure that I can. "It's--" What I'm afraid of is that I let myself admit that I want Anakin out loud, I'll have to decide whether or not I want him more than everything I've been working towards my entire life and that I won't like my own answer.
"It's that," I start over, staring at my hand on his shoulder in case looking at him directly will make the confidence I've gathered to wither away. "That if I let myself think about it, about you--like that--for longer than a moment, I might want you more than any of this."
He pauses, likely thinking through his words. Maybe he'll try to promise me that he wouldn't make me choose while not understanding that being with him at all makes that decision for me. Or maybe the amount of care I'm implying will scare him into second guessing this.
His hand slowly moves off of my shoulder. If my deep, dark secret has finally gotten him to understand why we're better off as we are, then maybe it's worth how hard it was to get out.
His fingers settle against my jaw. Slowly, he gets my head to turn. I look at him, expecting some kind of rejection to be written across his face. Instead, all I see in his eyes is a pool of emotion ready for me to drown in. "Would that have to be a bad thing?"
This time, the softness of his question doesn't feel like an attempt to dismiss our reality. It's so genuine it turns into a physical ache between us.
I'm reminded that despite all of his talent, confidence, and sense of humor that I've tried so hard to enjoy less, he's still a boy who's experienced so much heartbreak. The council constantly dismissing him and refusing to grant him the title he deserves, the loss of his mother, all of the expectations on his shoulders...
Would it be such a bad thing to want him more than anything else? To love him more that much?
I tilt my head back, just enough to press my lips against his. Anakin's quick to reciprocate, turning the barely there press of lips into something else with no warning. He shifts his weight so that he's fully against me. My back hits the wall of my closet before I realize what's happening.
It's heavy, my bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. The hand that's not still cupping my jaw settles on my hip, the silk of my slip dress crumpling between his fingers. I pull my head back, Anakin attempts to follow, teeth tugging on my lip one last time before letting us separate.
He doesn't let me get far, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breaths. "I'm sorry, I should have--"
"Don't be sorry," I manage between slow pants, "Not for that."
Anakin smiles, and for once, I don't mind feeding his ego. "I can feel how much you need me." The urge to squirm away and hide any potential embarrassment is strong, but I have no way to act on the impulse. I'm pinned between Anakin and the wall of my closet. He slowly pulls my dress, exposing another inch of skin. "Do you think any of your suitors could make you feel like this?"
I shake my head, "No." That's an easy thing to get out, "Only you."
Another tug that has more fabric pooling around my waist. "Promise you won't marry him." His head dips forward, his lips brushing against the end of my jaw. "Any of them."
My eyes instinctually shut. I need to hold it together. "You--you know I can't just--" He places an open mouthed kiss against my neck. "Anakin."
"Promise." An order.
I exhale, struggling to focus. "It's not--" Another kiss. "It's not f--air." My voice cracks on the last syllable as Anakin moves further down my neck. "You know I'd never break a promise I made to you."
"What's not fair is having to watch you meet with men who look at you and to know that this..." He pulls the strap of my dress off of my shoulder, exposing more skin that he immediately presses his lips against. "Is what they want to do to you."
What? I had never thought that my suitors fantasized about anything, everything about those meetings always feel so cold and political. I'd question it if I could bring myself to care about the revelation with Anakin's teeth pressing into the pulse point of my neck. "To have to watch them look at what's mine."
"Anakin..."
One last shift of fabric and the hem of my dress is now over my hips. His hand leaves my jaw and skims the waist of my underwear. "Promise."
His fingers finally reach where I need him most. My eyes instinctually shut at the sensation, a wave of pleasure I've never felt before nearly making me jump. Noticing my tension, he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.
I have to give him something, and maybe that'll be enough to at least put this conversation off until I'm in a position to negotiate. "I'm yours." My ability to form sentences is quickly fading as his finger presses into me. "Can't that be enough?" A small part of myself hates how easily I'm cracking. "For now?"
Anakin does the meanest thing imaginable, he stops. "Promise me."
A pathetically desperate whine escapes me. He can't be serious. He won't walk away now just because I can't immediately promise to never marry anyone.
He straightens enough to pull away from the crook of my neck. "Anakin." I meet his gaze, and behind the harshness of his eyes, I see that he means it. "You know I--I can't--"
"We can work it out." That genuine side of him returns, softness bleeding back into his expression. "All that matters is that you want to."
"Of course I want to."
He leans forward again, forehead pressing against mine, "Then promise me..." Anakin's eyes briefly shut, "Promise me you won't marry anyone else."
I let myself take him in, how it feels to let him consume me entirely. It's too late for me, anyway. I wouldn't be able to will myself to walk down the aisle the same way I couldn't force myself to push him away. "I promise."
His lips are on mine in an instant. When I don't part my lips fast enough, he hooks two fingers between the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs in one, swift motion. I gasp, giving him all the access he needs to drag his tongue against mine.
He moves back, beginning to press his lips against my jaw. "Anakin."
"Say it again." His fingers find the spot that makes me see stars. "Promise me that you're mine."
A whiny breath slips past my lips, "I promise." His teeth drag against my throat and my nails instinctually dig into his shoulder, "Only you."
A rough sound escapes from the back of Anakin's throat. He removes a hand from my hip to adjust his own robes. I'm too distracted to realize what he's doing until it's obvious. "Again."
I reach my hand forward until my fingers are wrapping around his length. "Only you, Anakin." He groans. "I--I won't marry anyone else." Anakin places his hand over mine, guiding my hand up and down his length. "I'm yours."
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, "Maker, you're--" The rest of the sentence is murmured into my skin at a pitch that I can't make out.
His fingers press into me even harder. "Anakin," my whininess would be embarrassing if I wasn't so distracted by the coiling feeling in my stomach, "I--I--"
"Tell me," he lifts his head enough to speak the words into my ears, "Tell me that you want me."
My eyes screw shut, "I--It's more than want." It feels like a confession. "I need you."
Another strangled breath escapes him. Anakin pulls away enough to line himself against my entrance. He presses in slowly, the feeling in my stomach reaches a height I didn't think possible. "Anakin."
"You're so," he's getting the words out through gritted teeth, "Tight." Anakin pushes in even more. A gasp escapes me. "Say it again." I'm too lost in what I'm feeling to form the words. He pulls back before pushing his entire length in with no warning. Anakin shows no reaction to the pitchy whine he forced out of me. "Again."
"It's--it's only--you," I pant. "I won't marry any-one else--just--just please, Anakin."
His thumb presses against where my nerves are at their most on edge. I can't breathe or focus on anything. "Please what?"
"I need you."
He rubs tight circles against me and picks up the pace. My head falls against his shoulder, eyes squeezing tight. "Look at me." I--I can't keep my head up. Anakin's hand tugs at my hair, forcing me off of his shoulder. "Look at me."
I force my eyes open. "Anakin."
"Feel good, hm?" All I can do is nod. "Can't even talk anymore?" His lips find their way against my jaw. "What would all your suitors say if they could see how easy it was for me to get you like this?" His lips find a spot on my neck that leaves me dizzy. "First breaking all the rules and now you can't even talk." It's hard to focus on anything that isn't how he feels. "Who has you like this?"
I take a shaky breath, "You, Anakin." My voice is shaky, "Only you."
His lips press against mine. Hard. I give in entirely and it's all teeth and wanting a closer that doesn't exist. He pulls away just as quickly, "I've got you, princess," he exhales, "come for me."
My body knows what to do more than I do. I cling onto him. Anakin's thrusts become less even without losing speed. He continues until an all consuming pleasure has my body practically shaking. My orgasm hits so fast and hard I can barely hold myself upright.
"Oh, you're squee--" Anakin cuts himself off, pulling out before he can finish inside me. "Maker, you're perfect."
After it ends, I expect to be filled with some kind of regret or remorse. Instead, all I feel is a sense of peace as I recover with my forehead pressed into Anakin's chest. He keeps his arm around me loosely. "It's just you and me, princess."
I nod against him weakly, desperate to accept what he's saying. "Just you and me."
He smooths circles against my back. "We'll figure it out together."
It's not an easy thing to believe, but trusting Anakin is natural. I finally lift my head to look at him, "We have time." I don't know how much time, but it's definitely not happening today, and if I can push this until our political crisis becomes the ultimate concern, my father won't bring it up until this is resolved. Maybe if I prove myself as a leader, he'll see that I can be more. "I'm tired."
He smiles lazily, "You're saying I tired you out?" I roll my eyes. "Come on, we have some time before you have to meet with your advisors." Anakin squeezes my shoulder, thumb soothingly tracing a pattern against my collarbone. "Stay with me?"
I have to bite my tongue to keep a much too emotional always from coming out, so I just nod. He takes my hand and leads me into my bedroom. Anakin helps me into bed before laying next to me.
Drowsiness pulls at my eyelids. I fight against the exhaustion as best as I can, but Anakin's gentle touches and whispered terms of endearment aren't making it easier.
"You can sleep," he finally whispers, "I'll make sure you're awake with enough time to get ready for your next meeting."
It's tempting, but after all of this, all I want is to be near him and to--to talk to him and absorb his presence before I can't. "But--"
"I'm not going anywhere," he says, reading my hesitance easily, "We have time."
My eyes are already closed, "Promise?"
Anakin's head dips forward as he presses a chaste kiss against my temple. "I promise."
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x reader#sw anakin#anakin skywalker smut#darth vader x reader#darth vader x you#anakin x reader#starwars#starwars x reader#smut#anakin skywalker fanfic
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So in other words, you agree, Sam and Cait are not very good actors as exemplified by the scene being them and not Beauchamp and Fraser. On that, agreed. She might be a C actor, he's definitely a D
Dear Beauchamp and Fraser Anon,
I suspect you might be a returning one, by the way, hoping to catch me unprepared with a very cheap sophism. Check this concept on Wikipedia if you wish, but I will give you my definition: manipulated or derailed logic, i.e. formally sustainable, but in reality just a fallacy; or, if you prefer, a bunch of crap, just for the sake of it. Also, it would be wise not to try these cheap tricks on someone trained to work with words and doing so every single day: you might find no satisfaction, ultimately.
Fun fact: I don't agree with any single word you just wrote. Sam and Cait are very good and gifted actors. Both of them. They did wonders with a very inconsistent script and under barbaric public pressure. What dragged you in here, Anon? Mrs. Gabaldon's florid, even luxuriant prose? What kept you in here, Anon? Blood and sperm and rape galore? I should wish you were honest, at least for once in your life, and let your answer be 'not really'.
What I meant by that phrase was something very simple: the actors' life experience deeply informing and sublimating their performance. If you think real and creative lives are strictly separate affairs in any intellectual endeavor, then you are probably completely unfamiliar with anything remotely related to writing, singing, playing (an instrument), acting, composing or painting. All these are akin to magic and all of the above are a summoning of sorts: ask any 'content creator', you will probably get a very similar answer. In Cait and Sam's case, their real life story nurtures and elevates their acting, despite people like you.
I am not an actor myself, but a long time ago it was acting that liberated me and taught me to not be afraid of anything. I did not make a living out of it, but I will always have the tools making me able to access that very special energy, any time I should need it. So, I can only offer you an educated opinion of These Two:
C is a very, very good actress. She is classy, sophisticated and knows instinctively how to occupy a stage or a set. She worked and progressed a LOT since Season 1, when it took me a good while to warm up to her. Add to this what I think is arresting beauty. Not really a C-level, in my book.
S is a wonderfully gifted actor who, unlike C, does not have any idea of this potential and, to be honest, gives the impression to even not care about it. He singlehandedly dominated some of the most difficult moments of the series (that unwatchable Wentworth episode comes to mind). His mastery of the Stanislavski and Lecoq methods and techniques is excellent. He is likeable, personable and has an innate emotional intelligence, helping him navigate and compensate the weaknesses of (yes, I insist!) an often insufficient script. I have already written about it, with arguments, when I found some very interesting parallels between The Fiery Cross episode and Laurence Olivier's performance in Shakespeare's Henry V. I will say it again: this guy has been grossly miscast, spare for JAMMF.
Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the whole preparation and rehearsal process when producing a movie or a series or a theatre show. These people don't just learn their lines by heart and turn up for readings and rehearsals. They also read and watch a lot of things that could help them build better, more credible characters. But what makes the sometimes very subtle difference between a decent performance and a stellar one is the amount of themselves they allow inside their acting. And in this respect, I think Sam and Cait have been very lucky, in what is a very clear case of Art (instinctively) imitating Life.
I doubt this answered your question and to be honest, I don't care.
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a prayer in perfect piety (homelander x plus-size reader)
originally written as this prompt here.
18+. 5.2k, f!reader, body image, smut. see AO3 Link for detailed tags.
Homelander invites you, his girlfriend, to your first public event as a couple. He's over the moon to show you off to the world, dressed to the nines and utterly smitten with one another. At some point, he loses track of you in the crowd. Confused, he goes looking for you, only to find you crying your eyes out in a bathroom on an entirely different floor.
Someone hurt you, and he's going to put them in their place.
Tonight's gala is a significant one. Not only does Homelander have about a dozen deals to grease with a firm handshake and some oily promises, it's your first time attending one of these events at his side.
He couldn't be prouder.
You took his breath away in your formal wear; a sight to behold that had him clapping his delight. "You're gonna knock them dead," he whispered in your ear, savoring the flustered, breathy way you laughed.
Strange now that when he looks for you, Homelander doesn't see you on the event floor. You had gone to get drinks while he spoke with this senator—who has officially lost any and all of his interest in the wake of your disappearance—but you've been gone too long. Like an itch at the back of his neck, something doesn't feel right.
"Ah, apologies, senator, I seem to have misplaced my date," he says, flashing his best award winning smile. "Gimme a minute to find her. Make sure she hasn't gotten herself into any trouble," he says, throwing in a wink for good measure. His pleasant expression falls off as soon as his back is turned to the boring little man.
When Homelander doesn't find you on the event floor, he steps out. He listens for you, filtering out the music, the chatter, the noise of the world. He seeks what is familiar to him, what he would know from a meter or a mile away, and what he hears puts a lump of ice into his gut.
You're crying .
Homelander moves swiftly down the hall, finding the women's bathroom in a heartbeat. You've gone far from the event floor, bypassing the nearer bathroom to use one further away. You're hiding, he realizes, but he can't fathom what from. He moves faster, imagining that you're hurt, that someone has you, that—
"Babe?!" Homelander calls sharply, slamming open the door. He doesn't mean to scare you, but he can see in your expression that he did. Your eyes are wide and red, tears trailing black mascara down your cheeks. You stand with your hand lingering on the bathroom sink, and as the shock fades, your expression falters.
He's never seen you look so... sad. It twists in him like a hot knife, the discomfort he feels at it turning immediately into rage. Anger comes quickly and easily to him. His voice is low when he demands, "Tell me what happened."
"It's nothing," you try to dismiss, picking up the tissues you dropped on the floor to toss them into the garbage. "I just got overwhelmed at the party."
"You're crying in a bathroom a floor down from the event, it is categorically not nothing," he argues, taking hold of your arms once he's near enough. He pulls you into him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face. Thanks to plenty of experience with makeup in film and television, he knows better than to smear the blackened tears on your cheeks, though the impulse to wipe them away is there. "C'mon. Tell me."
You lean into him as you always do. He is a pillar, just as you have been for him. He can't stand seeing you like this. "I don't belong here. I don't... talk, or dress, or look like these people. They're all..." You lift your hands, gesturing vaguely. Your voice sounds hoarse. He can't bear the sadness in it. "Perfect."
"You have to be kidding me," Homelander says, his disbelief genuine. "The gaggle of sycophants and suits back there? They're insipid. Boring as all hell. I can't even tolerate being in the same room as them without you anymore," he says, huffing a laugh in an attempt to ease your mood. Anything to bring back your smile. "Seriously, what brought this on? You've never given a shit about all that pomp before."
Your gaze drops. He knows you're hiding something from him.
"Hey, c'mon," he coos, using the knuckle of his index finger to tilt your chin back up. "Tell me, and I will make it better."
One way or another.
With visible reluctance, you take a breath. "I... went to get a drink, like I said," you begin, fidgeting with the zipper on his glove. "When a group of people kind of cornered me at the bar. They seemed nice at first, they were asking questions about me, about us, which I know you said to expect, but then..."
Your eyes prickle, he can see fresh tears well up as you speak. Homelander slips a hand to your back, rubbing it, his brow furrowed.
Sounds like someone's going to die.
"One of them commented on my dress, she said that... Vought must not be used to dressing women my size," you say, voice falling quieter with every word. New tears fall. Homelander's jaw tenses. He looks away from you, blinking back that familiar crimson burn.
"They all started laughing, and I just wanted to disappear," you say, a tight little sob escaping your throat as Homelander pulls you in against his chest, rubbing your back. "I'm sorry I didn't-"
"No," Homelander interrupts, his anger making the word sound harsher than he intended. "No," he says again, correcting himself to be gentler. This rage isn't for you, after all. "No apologies. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Get back out there."
Someone is definitely going to die.
You tense up, pushing back from his arms to look up at him. "Please, I'd really like to just go home."
"We will," he assures you, smoothing his hands up and down your arms. "Soon. I want you to show me the group who spoke to you."
"I don't want to cause a scene," you plead, flattening your hands to his chest. "They're not worth it."
"No, they're not. But you are," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. He holds you firm until he feels you begin to melt, yielding to the warmth of him. “Let me make this better.”
By the time he draws back, you look sufficiently pliant. "Okay," you say quietly. He bites back a predatory smirk. "Nothing too dramatic, please?" You plea, leveling him with an attempt at a firm look, despite your big watery eyes. He’s never been less intimidated in his life, and never more endeared.
"Me? Dramatic?" He asks, feigning outrage.
"I mean it," you stress, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
There it is, Homelander thinks. There is not a single heinous thing he would not do to see you smile. "Relax," he purrs. "I'll handle this."
When the two of you return to the event floor, it only takes you a moment to point out the offending group. With an arm wrapped securely around your waist, Homelander brazenly guides you to them. He feels you squeeze his hand anxiously, but he isn't the least bit deterred.
"Heyyy, what's up!" Homelander greets boisterously, bulldozing into their conversation with the friendliest of tone. Only you are wise enough to recognize the venom dripping from the corners of his mouth. His canines glint sharply in the light, eager for a bloody meal.
The air is strange, a mixture of drunken excitement and surprised nervousness. It's not every day Homelander himself steps into your conversation. A few of them look at you before they exchange glances, but clearly enough alcohol has been imbibed that they're feeling brave. They don't see the danger they're in.
Homelander runs his tongue along his teeth. Clueless fucking idiots."Homelander, oh my god! I was hoping to run into you," one of the women announces. He can smell the liquor on her breath when she leans in, putting a bold hand on his arm opposite to the one he holds you with. "I'm such a fan, you have no idea. I've seen every one of your movies," she says, flushed giddy.
"Always great to meet such a dedicated fan," he says, lying through his teeth. A glance through the material of her bag gives him exactly what he needs; her Vought security badge. She works in communications. "Kathleen, right? In Communications," he says, pointing a finger at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he's just now recalling this information.
"Oh, I-wow, yes! I can't believe you know who I am," she says, glancing back at her companions.
"I try to know everyone I work with," he lies smoothly, subtly shrugging her hand off of his shoulder, placing his hand on his hip. Not all of them work for Vought, but all of them have their ID on them. A quick flit of his super powered vision between them is all it takes for him to know each and every one of their names.
Homelander cocks his head to the side, giving her a once over. Her dress is richly patterned, a myriad of black, white and red. The belt bears a familiar double C logo.
“Wow, Kathleen, look at you. Chanel, huh? Oh, wait…,” he stops himself, leaning forward to take a better look at the details of the dress. He clicks his tongue, standing straight. “Nooope, I misspoke. Chanel doesn’t bleed. Not a bad knock-off, though,” he says with a brief downturn of his lips, shrugging.
Immediately, all eyes fall on Kathleen. There are a couple of stifled giggles and some childish oohh's . The man to her left, seeming eager to play along with Homelander’s little game of Mean Girls, readily chimes in, “Busted.”
“I’d be quiet if I were you, Chuck,” Homelander says, rounding on the man so sharply, his laughter falls immediately silent. The shock on his face is understandable. He doesn't work for Vought. Homelander has no right to know his name. “I can smell the red paint on the bottom of those misshapen Johnston & Murphy’s you’re trying to pass off as Louis Vuitton. Now that’s embarrassing.”
This time, no one’s laughing. There’s no mirth left in Homelander’s voice, and they've all finally realized it. His gaze is drifting from one potential prey to the next, his mouth set in an unyielding line. He lifts his brows, waiting for them to continue their jeering.
“What? No one has anything to say to that? How about you, Jason?” He asks, startling one of the other men. “Why don’t we talk about those fucking ugly veneers of yours? I mean, god damn . I’ve never seen a more square smile in my life. It’s like staring at white slatwall every time you open your mouth.”
Homelander begins to laugh. The sound of it is thorned, vicious to behold. “Aww, c’mon, don’t be so fucking sensitive . You wanted to have a laugh at my girl, right? Let’s laugh, then,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to snap his fingers impatiently, demanding, “Laugh!”
Like a bark from an obedient dog, a single man amidst the group forces a stilted laugh.
Homelander hones in on him with the precision of a heat seeking missile, dropping his hand. Deadpan, he asks, “Something funny, Jim?”
Jim audibly gulps. “Y-you said-”
"Y'see, that's your problem. You're all just a bunch of fucking sheep, so desperate to be seen as somebody, you end up being no one at all. If you put half the effort you put into kissing ass into a personality, you might be a fraction as interesting as she is," he says, gesturing to you with the hand he doesn't have holding you close.
"But instead you prop yourselves up on all this..." Homelander spins his hand loosely through the air before sighing, "Bullshit. It's boring. You're all so fucking boring and miserable with yourselves. You reek of it," he says, lip twitching in a near snarl. "Go. Get the fuck out of my tower,” he rumbles, voice set low. “All of you. Before I throw you off the balcony myself.”
There's a pregnant pause before Homelander snaps, "Now!"
Like roaches, all of them scatter. Homelander watches them with a sneer. He would have preferred literally tearing them apart, but it's neither the time nor the place.
"Holy shit," you whisper.
Homelander hums quietly, turning to look down at you. Before he can say a word, you grab hold of the back of his neck and kiss him senseless. He grins against your lips, turning to pull you properly into his arms. His ego swells immediately, the kiss speaking volumes. You're pleased. Pleased with him. He greedily soaks up the feeling of your body against his, lips moving against yours, eager to chase away the salty smell of your tears with something a little more salacious.
The two of you break apart before the kiss becomes any more scandalous than it already is, the buzz of the crowd around you dulled by the fervency pulsing between your bodies. "That was... the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me," you whisper, your heart beating heavily in your chest.
"Hottest thing so far ,” he says, smiling wolfishly. He gives your plush hips a squeeze, licking his lips. ”Because this dress on your body has been driving me wild . All. Night. Long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “And I cannot wait to tear it off you.”
You bite your lip, inhaling a sharp, flustered little breath. "Can we get out of here yet?"
"You're damn right we can," he says, kissing you again.
Homelander slips away from the venue without an ounce of fanfare, half because you’re so eager to be home, and half because he knows Stan Edgar will be pissed that he took off without shaking the hand of every single political figure the man wants a finger in the pie of.
Fuck Stan Edgar, and especially fuck every one of the brownnosing nobodies invited to that sycophantic cesspit.
The only person in the world he cares about right now is you.
~~~
He wasn’t kidding about the dress. The second he has you back in his room, he’s pushing it off your shoulders, trailing kisses from your neck to your chest. He drags the fabric down until it’s pooling around your waist. You gasp so sweetly in his ear when he snaps your bra apart in a single tug, leaving your upper half bare.
Your breasts hang heavy and flawless, soft in his gloved hands as he fondles them. “Love your tits,” he says, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coaxing it with his tongue until it’s hard, and you’re squirming in his arms, panting and pulling at his hair. He comes off of it with a wet pop. He cups your ass in both hands, grinds against your thigh so that you can feel how hard he is. “You’re so fucking soft. Wanna fuck ‘em, wanna fuck your tits.”
Those idiots at the gala had no goddamn clue what they were talking about. They were jealous of you, jealous knowing that it wouldn’t be any of their sorry asses he was going to worship inside and out tonight. They wanted to be you, or they wanted to be him, and they were stained an ugly green in their envy. He should have punched their hearts clean out of their chests for making you feel anything less than perfect.
You–the divine creature you are–nod your assent, breathless and flushed. You’re staring up at him with reverence that runs deeper than the insipid glee he sees in the hoards of livestock he tends to every day: the American populace. You aren’t just awestruck by him, you love him. He wants to devour you for it.
“Okay,” you say, eager and sweet. He lets you take a step back from him. “Do it. I want you to.”
Homelander watches you drop down onto the bed, intently tracks every bounce of your body. He steps towards you, and takes in the sight of you while you work on unbuckling his pants. He touches your hair, cups your cheek. He likes the way your skin looks against the crimson of his gloves, wants to see you stripped down bare and ruined by your hero, your god. Tipping his head back, he stares up at the mirrored ceiling above his bed, lets out a soft groan at the sight of you both.
The suit is carved into the shape of an adonis, rippling muscles that jut and curve. It creates the illusion of the body people expect from a man who can bend steel with his bare hands. It’s everything he should be.
He sucks in a sharp breath when you free his cock, but he stops you when you go to push his pants down, grabbing hold of your wrists. “Not yet. Leave ‘em,” he says, distracting you by bringing your hands to your chest.
“Hold ‘em up for me, alright? That’s it, there you go, just like that,” he says, licking his lips. He takes hold of his cock, and takes a step closer, nudging the leaking head of it under your breasts. There’s not enough slip to be comfortable for either of you, so he leans over to the bedside table and pops open the drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. With a brief flash from his laser vision, he warms the bottle.
“Lean your head back,” he says, and you do. You look like a work of art, your breasts heavy in your hands, spilling between your fingers where you’re holding them up, pressed together nice and tight. He drizzles the warm lube all across your chest, watches with perverse hunger as it rolls down the slopes of your body. Admittedly, he goes a little overboard, taken in by the image it paints.
“Too much,” you say, but he gives the bottle an additional cheeky little squeeze anyways.
“Can’t help it,” he says, tossing the bottle back into the drawer. “Y’look like a goddamn porn star.”
He can feel the heat of your flush. Somehow, you look demure, even as you sit naked from the waist up, holding your breasts for him to fuck. “Will you fuck me like one?” You ask, and Christ, he feels your words like punches to the gut.
“Is that what you want?” He puts his hands on yours, and slips his cock between your slick breasts, rocking his hips slowly. They feel unreal, enveloping him, impossibly supple and warm. “Want me to fuck you like the whole world’s watching?”
Your blush deepens, crawls all the way down from your cheeks to your chest, where he can feel the heat of it all around his cock. Holding his gaze, you nod, too flustered to respond verbally, which only drives him wilder.
All the while, he can smell your building arousal. The wetter you get, the more his head spins, focusing on the nuances of it: the damp smell of those pretty silky panties he bought you, the way you’re subtly rocking your hips like he won’t notice, seeking any friction at all to feed your own mounting desire.
He’ll have to resist ripping those panties off you. He wants to keep them as a trophy.
The smooth slip of your breasts is sweeter than words, but as he thrusts faster, he aches for more. More tension, more friction, more everything. Homelander groans roughly, and pushes you down onto the bed sharply enough that you yelp, falling back harmlessly onto the plush bedding. He wastes no time in tearing the dress from your body, to which you make a noise of protest.
“But–you got that for me, I-”
“I’ll get you another,” he dismisses. “I’ll get you ten of them, twenty. You’ll have everything. You understand me?” He drags his hands down your sides, hooks his fingers on the hips of your panties to slide them off. Those? Those he tucks into his pocket. “You’ll have everything.” He dips his hand between your legs, gloves slick with residual lube, and rubs your wet entrance with the leather clad tip of his middle finger. He pushes it in deep.
“I already do,” you gasp, reaching for him. He leans over you, lets you take hold of his hair, his cheek, obliges you when you pull him in to kiss. His hunger is barely contained, leaving him in sharp little nips to your bottom lip, and the ravenous press of his tongue into your mouth. He slips another finger into you, crooks them wickedly as he rocks them in and out, turning your voice thin and breathy. “You are everything to me.”
“Keep talking,” Homelander tells you, drawing out of your hold. He kneels at the edge of the bed and hikes your legs up over his shoulders, mindful of his pauldrons. He never stops pumping his fingers, keeps his pace steady while he leans in and sucks your clit between his lips. You jerk up, but you’re powerless against his hold.
“You’re so good to me,” you breathe, tangling your fingers in his hair. He’s never fingered you with his gloves on before, but you’re certainly not complaining. You’re moving with him now, pushing into every thrust, moaning. “You’re so beautiful. O-oh, god, I could watch you forever.”
Homelander’s gaze flickers up. He realizes you’re not looking at him, but at the mirror above you. He smirks, nuzzling in against you, enjoying that you’re watching him ruin you. You used to hide from that mirror, stay under the covers as much as you could. Now look at you, splayed out beneath it, enraptured by the vision of him swallowing you down. He preens with your words, shakes his head against you. Drags his tongue through the wet mess and fucks you deeper, firmer. He keeps going until your litany of praise and prayer falls off into sharp gasps and wordless euphoria.
He can taste your orgasm when it hits, smell it in the chemistry of your body. Your clit throbs wildly against his tongue, and he sucks it greedily. He doesn’t stop until you’re nearly sobbing from whe overwhelm of sensation, pushing him back with frail, exquisitely delicate efforts. He could hold you down if he wanted to, it would be easy to wring another bursting climax from you, but he relents.
This time.
Standing up, Homelander drags his gloved hand over his mouth, wiping away the majority of the mess. He unzips both gloves, and tosses them to the side. He wants to feel what he’s about to do next.
You look heavenly, sprawled out loose-limbed and spent, but there is such fire in your eyes when he meets your gaze. “I didn’t forget,” you say, to which he quirks a brow. “Like a pornstar,” you remind him, and he grins.
Effortlessly, Homelander flips you onto your stomach. He loves the way you giggle when he manhandles you, moving you as though you weigh nothing at all. To him, you don’t. You’re light as a feather, and he uses that to his every advantage. He lifts you up onto your knees, brings you right to the edge of the bed, and presses in close behind you. He grabs two helping handfuls of your ass, kneads it while he grinds his cock along the line of it. He gives an appreciative little slap.
You moan, resting your head atop your folded arms. Despite your release, there is neediness etched into your every movement: the anticipation in how you spread your legs, impatiently rocking back into his hands, your nails clawing at the bedding. He’s more aware of your body than you ever will be. He drags it out a while longer, finds your clit with the head of his cock and grinds against it.
“Stop teasing me,” you whine, trying to push back against him, but he holds you easily in place.
He licks his lips, his own cock achingly hard. “Tell me then, sweetheart,” he says, his voice reduced to a low rasp. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” you say without hesitation, twisting your grip in the bedding.
“Specifics,” he pushes, his ego nearly as demanding as his cock.
“Put your cock inside me and pound me until your name is the only one I know,” you say, voice wrung tight and impatient. “Please, please, I want you in me. I need to feel you. You make me feel so good , please–”
Fuck, your voice drives him insane. He’s maddened by the eagerness with which you appeal to him, the sincerity in it even when he’s edging you, toying with you, riling you up to see if you’ll crack, to see if you’ll lose this perfect sweetness in the way you profess your love and your need, but you never do. He aches for it, he never wants to stop digging it out of you.
Your string of adulation is cut short when he finally lines himself up and pulls you back onto his cock, wringing a keening moan from you, a noise of relief and pleasure and agony all at once. He’s only barely breached you with the head of his cock. It isn’t nearly enough to satisfy you. You want more. You want all of him. You want to be fucked by Homelander’s fat cock.
Tipping his head back, he stares up at himself, dressed still in red, white and blue while you’re stripped naked, wearing worship and vulnerability more beautifully than he’s ever seen it. He grabs hold of your hips and steadies you, sinks you back onto his cock in one smooth pull. You make a noise that goes straight to the heat at the core of him, feeding it like kindling to the flames.
“Look at you,” he moans, watching both of your reflections. He alternates between the curves of your body, and meeting his own eye. “So fucking perfect .”
Sliding his hands up your sides, he drops his head to kiss a trail up your spine. He cups your breasts, fondles your nipples with his thumbs. They feel so much better in his bare hands, soft and still slightly slick. He gives a shuddering moan and picks up a steady pace, kneading them against your chest while he starts to fuck you in earnest.
You asked him to make you forget everything but his name. That’s exactly his intent as he pounds into you. Holding you steady against the sharp slap of his hips, he’s moving so relentlessly that you can’t get in enough air to string together any of those pretty words. He doesn’t care anymore, the gasps and half-sobs of pleasure each thrust knocks out of you are music to his ears. He’s already walking the wire’s edge, so hard and sensitive that it almost hurts.
Dropping one hand from your chest, he takes those slick fingers and presses the middle to your clit, cradling your belly against his arm, sinking again and again into the sweet, wet softness of you, wanting only to ever be closer, deeper. He moans when the contact makes your pussy tighten up. He barely has to move his finger when he’s fucking you fast and hard enough to jostle you against it.
You come again, and this time, you pull him over the edge with you.
Homelander slams in deep, practically growling against you as load after load spills into you in wet pumps. He comes so hard his vision tunnels for a split second. It takes him a full minute to recover, to feel as though his soul has tethered itself back to his body.
Carefully, suspecting you will be tender, he withdraws from you, gentle in the way he helps you sink back down onto the bed. He lets out a long, slow exhale. Christ.
While he had expected you to immediately melt into a pile of goo on the bed, you surprise him by sitting up, adjusting until you’re sitting in front of him. He begins to usher you back, get you comfortable down on the pillows, but as weak and lovely as you are, you refuse it.
“Let me undress you now,” you say, unbuttoning the lapel of his suit top. Reflexively, he stops you, hand exceedingly delicate on your wrist.
“Yeah,” he says, still coming down from the high. With it, those complicated feelings from earlier come bubbling back to the surface. “Yeah, in a minute. Lay down.”
Still, you do not.
“You love my body so well,” you say, tone supplicating. He nearly flinches, a part of him hating that you know him well enough to know to speak so tenderly in this moment. “Let me love yours, too. Please.”
Disarmed, Homelander slowly drops his hands to his sides. With a kind smile, you unfasten his top, working it off of his shoulders until it falls to the ground. Up on your knees, you rest your hands on his shoulders, and he begins his hands to your waist. He watches the top of your head as you kiss the center of his chest, then the left side, then the right. You pepper these saccharine touches all over his torso, murmuring sweet nothings against his skin all the while.
Eventually, without his permission, his vision begins to blur. He blinks it back stubbornly, caught off guard by the sudden threat of tears. Why is this happening? He’s happy.
You work his pants off as well, sweeping your hands down his slender thighs. They’re nothing like the carved musculature of his suit. He pets your hair, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck as you kiss your way back up to his chest. Your hands glide down his shoulders, his arms, and you squeeze. He flexes subconsciously, though it does little to make up for the bulk missing from his suit. His heart falls into his stomach when you meet his gaze, and he sees your expression falter.
“I’m fine,” he says reflexively.
“I know,” you say, ever so persistently gentle. “I love you so much. Every part of you–” you say, tracing your hands down his sides, to the sharp jut of his hips. “–is so unbelievably beautiful. Sometimes I can’t believe that it’s mine,” you say wistfully, leaning in to kiss his throat, his jaw.
Closing his eyes, Homelander wraps his arms around you, cradling your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” he echoes, voice little more than a low rasp. You coax him under the blankets with you, your body a relief to sink in against. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he tucks your head in under his chin, your legs easily tangling together. There is an ease in the way your bodies slot against one another, as if they were always meant to.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“What for?” He asks, absently stroking your hair.
“Everything. For defending me. For loving me. For seeing me. Just… For all of it. Thank you,” you say, squeezing him as tight as you can. Somehow, despite the disparity in your strength, it’s the most securely held he’s ever felt.
Homelander is rendered speechless by it. He squeezes you in turn, nuzzling in against the top of your head. He feels warm and heavy all over, lost to the steady beat of your heart. Your heart, this precious, bleeding thing that you’ve given him so wholly and freely. He would think it foolish if he was not so painfully aware that you, too, hold his heart in your hands. It is a mangled, ugly thing, battered and discolored from years of misuse, but it is yours nonetheless.
Now more than ever, he thinks that it’s never been safer.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander fanfiction#my writing#i'm in a rush but LOOK I DID IT
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✶*✧Introduction to Spell Sealing✧*✶
Everything must come to an end.
This is an area of spellcraft that doesn’t get a lot of publicity because for most people it just becomes a natural part of the process. However, if you want to mix up how you do it, try something new, or otherwise let go of the way you were originally taught, this might be a good resource for performing rituals!
What are Sealed Spells?
In the context of magic you usually hear about sealing and binding like binding a person or something from being able to do something. Here we're talking more like a binding contract. This is a binding or seal locks in an action or intent. It is binding in the way an agreement is binding. You have given it firm parameters that it must follow and you have endeavored to finalize the action. You have provided certainty, locked in your answer, sealed the deal.
The benefits of this are inherent in the finality. You have a set thing that now is much harder to alter and is much harder to waver in its purpose. This is no longer some multi-purpose object. It has varitably been christened for this and this alone. The work to undo it will be just as rigorous as the work to do it in the first place. A light cleansing of your materials afterwards might not be enough. You're gonna need the spiritual bleach.
To some extent you might just feel that something needs to be finalized. If you feel it in your gut like you need something to formally end the working, these are what you might be looking for.
More Common Than You Think
This might be more familiar to you than you would initially think. Signing your name on something at the end is a common one, but even in a ritual sphere there are many examples. This is going to be your “so mote it be”, your “Amen”, and your other declarations of finality. Even purely secular situations often have rituals of finality. I think you’ll find that when these things are left out, there is sometimes a feeling of the energy hanging in the air. In a lot of ways it does not feel right. Whether this is the social convention of signaling to everything and everyone present that the ritual has come to a conclusion, or just to announce you’re finished, there is some power to it.
Types of Seals
There are several different ways to express finality in your workings. Here are just a few examples.
Shutting the Door and Sealing the Envelope
If your work involves some kind of lid or package, you can physically seal it. Whether this is corking a jar, sealing with wax, tying a string around something etc. If this is a possibility it is a good way to finalize a spell.
Written and Spoken Seals
Whether this is through signing something like you might finalize a formal contract or expressing that it is finalized verbally. A few examples of this are listed above that you may have heard before, but there is really nothing stopping you from making your own.
Kiss Seals
Sealing with a kiss. Kissing something to finalize has historical precedent and takes no extra tools to complete besides your lips. Whether this is physically using your lips or the other means, this is one option for a quick seal. Just don’t kiss poison.
Burning, Burying, and Bestrewing
Few things are more final than destruction. Once you’ve set the flame, you’ve pretty much confined what you’ve set on fire to that purpose forever. Burying something in the ground would be another example of this. Whether you feel the finality is from returning it to the earth, or because you are sealing it in a tomb of soul, this will certainly signal that it is done. Some feel like things are not complete until they’ve scattered the ashes, in which case throwing something to the wind could be your version of finality.
Whether this is through signing something like you might finalize a formal contract or expressing that it is finalized verbally. A few examples of this are listed above that you may have heard before, but there is really nothing stopping you from making your own.
Sigil Seals
An extension of the written or spoken seals are sigil seals. It accomplishes much the same thing, but can be a little more formal. Some might think this is kind of a stretch, but wax seals, like what might go on a letter, could fall into this category, technically.
#witchy#witchcraft#school of roses#magic#basics#witchblr#witch tips#witches#witchythings#witchyvibes#witch community#sealing spells#spellcraft#simple spells#spellwork#witch#baby witch#sigils
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people saying, oh it wasn't intended from the beginning so it wasn't intentional thus has to stay fanfiction bug me. like, shows can develop organically based on chemistry. they can surprise you and take you in a direction that wasn't planned but now just works. like, fucking, chandler and monica wasn't planned from the beginning! but the actors had chemistry and the writers tried it out and it became iconic. you don't throw something away just because it surprised you instead of being pre-planned; you cultivate whatever gold you find!
With Hollywood entertainment in particular, I think there is a lot of ignorance regarding how the creative process, production process, post-production process, and business all work. It is readily apparent that in Hollywood, there are many hands in the kitchen when it comes to creating a movie, documentary, or show. The "Original Intent" argument is weakest when it comes to Hollywood art, and in fact fails to be a viable argument in multiple areas. I will discuss how the "Original Intent" argument fails in Hollywood in more depth under the read more, using what I know from having worked in the industry myself as a writer. And to be honest, the fact I have to pull my private professional history out online, just to prove I'm not being delulu when it comes to the importance of queer subtext in film, pisses me the fuck off.
To be clear, since this whole discourse mess on my Tumblr is likely the result of someone thinking I'm an anti-sylki: I AM NOT AN ANTI. I have an extensive analysis on Sylvie as an integral character to the Loki series, Sylki in canon, and her relationship with Mobius here.
I agree with you: a lot of amazing art deviates from the original intention, especially writing. If deviating from original intent in the writing process did not exist, we would not have DRAFT REVISIONS, we would not have IMPROV, we would not have EDITORS (whose entire job hinges on giving the writer not only grammar corrections, but feedback on how to IMPROVE character, plot, and pacing, which inherently means making changes from the original intent!). This is to say nothing of the thousands, if not tens or hundreds of thousands, of media scholars--with actual PhDs--who spend years of their lives performing meta-analysis to write academic papers on subject matters like this. Papers that become formal publications and contribute to how queer history is taught in universities! This is no different than academic scholars analyzing women and race representation and resistance in film. Why should analyzing queer representation and resistance in film be treated any less?
LET'S TALK ABOUT ORIGINAL CREATIVE INTENT VS POWER HIEARCHY & POLITICS IN HOLLYWOOD
For context with respect to this ask, a different Tumblr user critiqued against queer subtext in one of my posts using the "original intent" argument for the Loki series and Lokius specifically. By this logic, if original intent is always honored, then the original script for Loki's S2E5 (written by Eric Martin) would not have been NUKED by the executive powers that be at Marvel. [source] But no, the original intent was not honored, it was rejected. So how does one square the primacy of original intent with original intent being rejected by people who are not the artist but the people who manage Disney's finances?
In television, "Executive Producer" (i.e. Tom Hiddleston, Michael Waldron, Eric Martin, etc.) is a title that can be given to a writer or actor who has more creative say in the execution of a story than a regular staff writer or actor on crew. It also indicates that the writer or actor is in a much higher salary range compared to their professional peers. It does NOT mean the same thing as a CORPORATE "Producer" of Kevin Feige's level, who ultimately has the FINAL SAY on what does NOT end up on the cutting room floor. The corporate Producer must take into account the wishes of corporate's shareholders and board of directors, who are often multi-million if not multi-billion global investors who need the distribution of the product to succeed internationally in countries like China, which is very anti-LGBTQAI+. This is how a script like Eric Martin's S2E5 can be nuked and the writer can be contractually gagged from talking about its specific contents by Disney, lest they be SUED TO HELL for breaking their non-disclosure agreements (NDAs).
This doesn't even take into account politics.
In 2020, Ike Perlmutter, Chair of Marvel, "gave $575,000 to Trump For Victory, $35,500 to the Republican National Committee in April, $5600 for Texans For Ronny Jackson in February. 2019 saw him donate $248,000 to the Republican National Committee, $466,100 to Trump For Victory, $5,600 to Donald Trump For President." His wife, Laura, mirrored those donations. "In late 2016, he also gave $5,000,000 to the Great America PAC." [source] Ike was only recently laid off from his position in March 2023 [source]. Perlmutter was in a power-struggle at Marvel with Kevin Feige for years. Feige was promoted to Chief Creative Officer in 2019, which brought the power struggle to a head, ultimately contributing to Perlmutter's departure.
There is also Bob Iger, CEO of Disney, who was famously quoted during the Writers Guild of America strike for saying, “It’s very disturbing to me. We’ve talked about disruptive forces on this business and all the challenges we’re facing, the recovery from COVID which is ongoing, it’s not completely back. This is the worst time in the world to add to that disruption”
This is the worst time in the world to negotiate to pay your writers, YOUR CREATIVE LABOR FORCE, who entertained millions of people while they were stuck in their homes for 2 years, fairly?
And these are just two men in executive power at Marvel and Disney. We're not even talking about all the other board members and shareholders. You think Tom Hiddleston, Michael Waldron, and Eric Martin have any real power compared to these guys? They do not. They are peons by comparison. And these artists (despite their "Executive Producer" title) are always at odds with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP), who are ultimately not artists but FINANCIERS.
Here's another quote from a studio executive that occurred during the writer's strike:
"Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.
To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.
“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”" [source 1] [source 2]
Fortunately, this negative press and the WGA members' solidarity led to the WGA getting everything they demanded. I still have friends in the industry, specifically in the WGA and MPEG. A lot of them were indeed starved out. My friend who's a film editor is still unemployed because pre-production has only recently started to ramp up again and her profession is all in post. She has to wait for production to catch-up and finish in order to get work.
If the AMPTP is willing to use clearly unethical tactics to underpay their writers and actors (don't forget the SAG-AFTRA strike that joined later), do we really think members of the AMPTP (the studio execs) are willing to honor artists' original intent if the original intent may be "offensive to some viewers" and therefore can potentially cut into their financial bottom line?
We're not naive. We know the answer to this.
OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH, KILLING EVE, AND GOOD OMENS
But what about OFMD, KE, and GO? These shows are on MAX, BBC, and Amazon Prime respectively. These corporations have a different branding image than Disney. Disney touts itself as "family friendly"; (read: on-screen LGBTQAI+ affection between two lead characters is "not family friendly"). MAX and BBC's branding type also affords them the luxury of creating content for niche audiences. Disney, on the other hand, makes additional revenue through using their plethora of licenses to make toys, additions to their theme parks, and other merch. If a parent is offended that a canonically queer character like Loki has romantic love not just for Sylvie but also for Mobius (a same-sex relationship), what are the odds of parents like them not buying Disney's merchandise? We can apply this same question to Star Wars, Pixar, and any of Disney-branded animation or live action movies. How deeply can audience offense potentially cut into Disney's bottom line? If there were no discrimination taking place, we would have LGBTQAI+ representation through a lead character in any one of their licenses already. We do not, and that is a huge red flag.
In addition, these entertainment corporations (who do not tout themselves as "family friendly") generate other sources of revenue elsewhere. Netflix generates international revenue through the production of international programming like "Squid Game" and other K-dramas such as "The Glory" or Mexican shows including, "The Surrogacy" and "Haunted: Latin America". MAX is struggling. They were bought out for that reason. With AppleTV and Hulu, their target audiences are more diverse, they offer a variety of media product, and their business strategy is ultimately different from Disney. All of this grants them more freedom in what kind of characters they choose to represent, including LGBTQAI+ characters.
Remember House and Wilson from House M.D.? That show was on FOX. We know the political alignment of FOX. Dean and Castiel from Supernatural? WB Television. Both shows came out before streaming became dominant, and thus, these shows had to cater to anyone who might happen to land on their channels. When the market demands that you cater to the widest possible audience in order to generate the largest revenue, the creatives are forced to create relatively conservative artistic product. Hence, creative censorship and our long history of queer subtext.
At Nickelodeon, the artists actually had the support of corporate to move forward with Korrasami because the final season Legend of Korra was only available online. It did not air on their channel. If that had not been the case, corporate would not have approved Korrasami. However, that approval was contingent upon the artists being subtle subtle about Korra and Asami's relationship. Even in this canon ship, the animators relied on subtext for queer romance.
Not helping Disney's case is the cancellation of "The Owl House". Why was "The Owl House" canceled? It didn't fit Disney's "brand". [source]
THE FAILURES OF THE "ORIGINAL INTENT" ARGUMENT IN HOLLYWOOD
The "Original Intent" argument fails when it comes to art in Hollywood because:
Original Intent can change, and often does change, during the creative process. This applies to all forms of art, not just Hollywood.
Multiple artists are involved in pre-production, production, and post-production. At any point in this 3-part process of filmmaking, original intent can be changed for a variety of reasons.
Studio Executives, Boards of Directors, and Corporate Shareholders have more power than the artists in Hollywood. If they think a product will not make money, they will order changes accordingly.
Disney specifically touts itself as "family friendly". Its lack of a lead character (in ANY of its live-action licenses) being in an openly queer relationship with someone who presents as the same sex, is the direct result of not wanting to lose conservative audiences.
Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs) are common in Hollywood and prevent artists from providing specifics regarding original intent. This is done not only to safeguard corporate's intellectual property (IP), but to also safeguard their public relations image.
THE ORIGINAL INTENT ARGUMENT WEAPONIZED
The "original intent" mindset can be either very naive or very cynical, depending on the thinker's motives for choosing this belief. Naive, in that thinking creative purity actually exists (it does not) or that oppression does not still occur in Hollywood (it does). Cynical, in that either the thinker doesn't believe in artists intentionally finding ways around mass produced arts' media censorship, which has in turn created our rich history of queer subtext in film, OR the thinker wants the "original intent" argument to invalidate a change they do not like.
The last motive is the same strategy used by fans who reject Miles Morales as being a real Spider-Man. The same strategy fans use to deny that Shuri is indeed the new Black Panther. Both are tactics used to mask racism and sexism beneath the veneer of "creative purity". Fans who have internalized racism, sexism, or queer-phobia may also use this tactic at a subconscious level to protect themselves emotionally from disappointment. Finally, there are fans who use this argument to invalidate another ship, usually a queer ship that cannot be formally canonized because of corporate studio power.
Regardless of the reasoning, using this argument is frequently insidious because it perpetuates straight white male dominance in media representation.
PERSONAL LIVED EXPERIENCE
I'm an old poc queer and have worked in Hollywood long enough to know that the writers' original vision rarely ever--IF EVER--pans out as originally intended. If you ever sit through a movie and wonder why the story feels so weird in certain parts, I can guarantee you that about 2/5ths of the time, a corporate producer stepped in and messed with the original story in post-production (usually in an poor, over-worked editor's dark editing bay) and ordered reshoots the director may not have agreed with.
I've also worked in the industry long enough to know that it is an absolutely toxic work environment in which women, people of color, and queer people still struggle to get a creative foothold anywhere. My first experience pitching a script to a prospective agent involved being asked to meet at a hotel for drinks. We didn't talk about my writing at all. What I thought would be a pitch meeting was actually the writer's version of the "Hollywood casting couch". Yes, I was propositioned. No, nothing happened to me. I walked out. This happened to me in June 2008. It was not my last experience. The "Me Too" movement that came years later in 2017 was in response to situations I have encountered like this.
Those of us who succeed are very rare, and 97% of the time, the executive staff is very, very white and male. There is absolutely oppression and exploitation of all sorts still happening in Hollywood. I fucking lived it and continue to have nightmares about it.
QUEER SUBTEXT STILL EXISTS
Thus, to deny queer subtext's validity as an art form and to only accept the words of those who are either in power or limited in what they can say because of those in power, undermines not only the artists' efforts to tell the story they want to tell but cannot tell explicitly, it also undermines queer joy and queer resistance in cinema. And yes, sometimes those artists are cis straight white male allies who want to tell these stories because they simply make sense for the characters. These people are the artists, not the financiers.
It's more mature to embrace, or at least leave alone, the loud joy others experience from shipping and performing meta-analysis instead of publicly pissing on them with the profoundly weak and ignorant argument of "original intent". Don't mess with me on this. The number of scripts I have worked on that completely warped from what I wanted, and then to have my writing credit removed or stolen, still makes me sick. Yes, I'm bitter, but I'm also glad I left.
#loki#mobius#lokius#loki season 2#writing#art#asks#queer cinema#lgbt representation#lgbtqia representation#lgbtqai#lgbtqia#hollywood#politics#entertainment industry#art vs capitalism#capitalism#personal#wga#hollywood industry
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So, the ability to actually understand hieroglyphs came with the Rosetta Stone being written in multiple languages. What I've wondered, though, is how we can understand older forms of the language. Did the meaning of the characters simply not change significantly enough over that time, or is it thanks to other contemporary texts giving additional information in languages such as Greek?
The simple answer is: no they didn't, not really.
The more complex answer is: yes they did, but it really depends on the medium they were written on, and the fact that spellings for words don't change that much. We also have Coptic.
So, no, the words we see in Ancient Egyptian didn't change all that much at all over the years from Old Egyptian and Middle Egyptian through to Late Egyptian (I'll use shorthands like OEg, MEg, and LEg from now on). They got some new ones, got some loan words from other languages, and some spellings did slightly change over time due to changes we know occurred in the spoken language (the word for 'to go out' softening the final r consonant and then the first r consonant from: r-bnr -> r-bl -> ⲉⲃⲟⲗ or MEg -> LEg -> Coptic). But by and large, if you can read MEg then you'll be able to recognise words in both OEg and LEg.
What's different between these three languages is that the grammar changes. In OEg, a lot of the first person pronouns are missing, they don't use the tense markers for the past, and the way they show something is plural is to write the determinative 3 times. In Middle Egyptian we have pronouns, tense markers, and plurals are written with 3 lines. This is the most complete form of Egyptian, and the one all the books that teach you Hieroglyphs start with. LEg is very different to MEg in that we now have what's known as 'frontal exposition' which is where the grammar markers, which usually come after the verb, now come before it. LEg also adds a lot of extraneous information that you don't necessarily read.
Now the reason for this is that LEg now reflects how the language was spoken at the time, so there's a lot of changes that move away from the more formal MEg. LEg becomes the primary method of written communication on papyri, so while it's written in Hieratic script, you'll see a lot of shorthand and loanwords. MEg, unlike OEg back when MEg began to be introduced, remains in public use though. MEg's use continues on monuments like temples and tombs etc, where a more standardised form of spelling and grammar makes it easier carve out. You truly wouldn't want LEg carved on any walls. Too messy. I think the easiest way to think about this is to think of English and how on a daily basis we used a semi colloquial register that's adaptive, but for more serious things like historical inscriptions telling people 'X lived here' or plaques that tell people the history of a site, we tend to use a more formal language that's clear and concise that we don't use in other places. It's like a hangover from a different way of speaking. Just like how we use the several forms of English, the Egyptians used MEg and LEg in the same way.
This brings me back to your question: By the time the Ptolemies are making the decrees that end up being carved on things like the Rosetta stone, the non formal written language of Egyptian has changed again to Demotic and is working it's way into Greek/Latin and eventually Coptic. The monumental language is still a slightly adapted form of MEg, and by slightly adapted I mean the Ptolemies have added a 'L' consonantal sound to one of the signs meaning they can spell things like their names. But by and large it's still very much a recognisable form of the language. So even though the Rosetta stone is worlds away from things like the Saqqara tombs of the Old Kingdom, the language being used in each is very similar. Even with the grammar quirks, Champollion had been working with Coptic, a language he knew was a descendant of Egyptian, to see if he could work out the consonants and grammar. So once you've got the words down, it's just a matter of working out how it all pieces together.
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Helloo! How are you, and how are you doing? I am very obsessed with your post’s and i can’t get enough of them! They are so good written, you are one of the beat writers i have ever seen!! Can i may have a request about Madara and his lover, his lover is very insecure about her flat chest (Not too much she has just small breasts) and always gets picked up on it. She cries in front of the mirror, and Madara sees her when she does that. And then the day after some girls picks up on her small chest and make her cry. Feel free to ignore it, it’s strange and a little weird, so you don’t have to do it. Love you <33
Thank you so much for your beautiful words baby!!! I greatly appreciate your presence here, thank you for sticking around and reading my work, love u too😭💫
I can totally relate to this because I have the flattest chest in the world, and hell, we know Madara won't let his wife have a bad time
"Wake up to reality" but make it bitchier 😩❤️🩹
Growing up with Izuna teaches you a thing or two👀
(Y/N) thinks she is alone in the house, and that is the only reason she allows herself vulnerability. She wouldn't cry about it in front of anyone, always strong on the outside, but sometimes she needs to break down and admit that certain things hurt.
Stepping out of the shower, she stands in front of the mirror and admires her figure. She is a pretty girl, nice curves in anyone's eyes, but some people's envy is too heavy to ignore.
She knows that being the leader's wife exposes her to public opinion, having everyone notice and judge her, talk about and debate the details of her personal life as if they knew her. (Y/N) learned to ignore them, to turn a deaf ear to whatever stupid things they might say, but there are things that sometimes can't be avoided.
Deep in her mind, she always had a small annoyance regarding her body: lack of prominent breasts, typical of any conventionally attractive woman. When Madara proclaimed her as his wife after months of secretly dating, it was the first thing that was talked about.
Having small breasts, according to the malicious tongues, speaks of low fertility, of an inability to properly convince. How dare the Uchiha leader choose a woman who will not be able to provide him with a healthy family!
Of course, these are the words of all the superstitious ignoramuses, who have no idea how the body works and believe everything is based on strange myths. The elderly usually furnish the most prominent comments, but (Y/N) ignore them because of their age, forged in another era and impossible to change.
No one had ever expressed an opinion of her anatomy before announcing her formality alongside Madara, no one had ever mentioned anything about her flat chest or lack of bulky breasts, but the exposure to the public eye for being beside such an important person was like being thrown to the wolves.
What she can't tolerate are women her age, girls with a different consciousness and way of life, who latch on to things others say to cautiously insult without being obvious. You can imagine what a scandal there could be if one of them is purposely mean against the leader's wife, always taking precautions to upset her without anyone noticing.
She looks at herself in front of the mirror and lowers the towel to expose her breast, feeling conscious about their shape, size, lack of fullness. She doesn't realize she's crying about it, overwhelmed by all the ugly words she's received these past few days. People can be excessively cruel, and no matter how much self-assurance, self-confidence and self-love she has, every insult or taunt hits hard at her defenses, tearing down her walls bit by bit.
It is infuriating to feel this way because of other people, to give them this power, but she can't help it.
Each tear represents an opinion about her, unable to stop her crying. She moves at different angles trying to find prominence, something that might make her feel better about it, that might fill the emptiness she feels in her stomach, but she cannot console herself.
What if the elders are right? If she can't give her man a healthy, powerful family? Or if Madara gets tired of her for not meeting the stupid standards of conventional beauty, and looks for a woman with another type of build? What if-
"Fuck this, I'm better than that." In an awakening of logic, (Y/N) manages to evade the mindless intrusive thoughts, towel drying her face and proceeding to get dressed.
She ignores the fact that her man watched the whole scene from outside the room, not daring to interrupt an intimate and personal moment, make her feel exposed in her vulnerability, but taking in every glance at the mirror and every tear.
Madara is neither idiot nor ignorant, he knows and is aware of what is said about his wife, the stupidities that people think they have the power to comment without even knowing her, and although he shuts up every person he hears spouting idiocy, he can't be everywhere.
From now on, he will personally make sure it never happens again.
……
The two walk together through the Uchiha compound market, countless people slowing Madara down to greet him and discuss personal matters they want to work on with him. People demand and absorb him like ants on honey, and (Y/N), used to it, always ends up wandering alone until he manages to catch up with her.
Today is no exception, and while three little old ladies monopolize all his attention as soon as they see him arrive at the place, complaining about the bad state of the crops and the crumbling of their little stalls in the street, (Y/N) lets go of his hand and walks around the place alone.
She visits different shops and greets anyone who approaches her, and when she stops at a flower arrangement stall, three women look at her out of the corner of their eyes. They suspiciously approach her but pretend to be talking to each other, a tone of voice conveniently loud.
"Have you seen her? She is so unworthy of the leader!"
"Yes... I mean, look at her, isn't she the most normal, unattractive woman you ever saw?"
"The leader deserves someone who can keep him truly entertained, a good body."
"We all know he values pronounced curves and big breasts, like mine!"
"Yes! You would be the perfect woman for him! Maybe you should try to win him over... look at the mess of a girl he has next to him, he'll jump on you in a second!"
"Madara-Sama will die to get his hands on you and get rid of that horrid little brat!
She will remain silent about it, pretending not to hear them and maintaining the decorum expected of a woman of high rank like her, formal and untainted in the face of any attack she might receive so as not to leave her husband in a bad light.
Of course, she does not expect at all what she hears behind her back as an arm comes around her shoulders and presses her against a marked chest.
"You three, I'm sorry to announce, are the most hideous bitches I've ever seen in my entire fucking life." Madara speaks with a sternness in his voice that makes them shrink back, losing all the boldness they were handling themselves with a few seconds ago.
"And I mean it, for real. I've been through terrible things, wars, death, but I've never seen anything that leaves me more disgusted and aghast than the three of you. What the fuck are you doing in my compound, serving wretchedness and ugliness all over the place?" The women gawk at him, unable to believe Uchiha Madara himself is talking to them like this. Always so formal and proper, no one would expect to hear those kinds of words from his mouth.
The whole market remains silent, paying attention to the situation, watching with surprise and skepticism as the leader humiliates them in front of everyone. The elders stop selling, people stop buying, and everyone turns to watch the exchange.
"You dare to talk about my wife, my beautiful (Y/N), when you are the ugliest bitches I've ever seen, walking around and scaring anyone who sees you? To judge someone you must be at least on their level, you revolting women."
"Madara... maybe that's enough..." She whispers from his chest, cocooned in her man's skin and utterly shocked by what she hears. Sure, she knows her husband's casual, offbeat side, it was what made her fall in love with him, but she never quite anticipated him risking his reputation in front of all his people like this for her.
"No, not enough at all. They need to wake up to reality, understand they are dreadfully ugly, that no one will ever want them, and no one will ever choose them. You," he points to the first one who attacked her, "your tits are fake, horrible job, you should ask for your money back. You," points to the next one, "you're the nastiest woman I've ever seen in my fucking life, fix your teeth, and you," points to the last one, "you're rotten with envy from the inside out, disgusting. Get the fuck out of here, now."
"YES! GET OUT OF HERE."
"GET OUT YOU WITCHES!"
"YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE MISS (Y/N), GET OUT!"
"RUN AWAY, YOU INSOLENT HAGS!"
All the people in the market join their leader, accompanying his statements and pushing the women away. (Y/N) can't believe the display of the event, how they all unite and support their leader with total respect, how they protect her along with him.
She never felt so supported, as she watches the three women being rushed to the entrance of the Uchiha compound and flee in tears, egos shattered and abased, an ultimately needed journey of humility.
Madara smiles at her like a small child as chaos unfolds around them, cradled by his arms and pressed against his chest, contained, backed up, protected. No one ever thought he could behave like that, talk the way he did, but it seems the Uchiha leader always surprises.
Maybe he learned a thing or two from his younger brother, after all.
#uchiha madara x reader#madara uchiha x reader#madara x reader#madara#uchiha madara#madara uchiha#uchiha clan#naruto shippuden#naruto imagines#naruto#naruto x reader
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YEARNING FOR COMFORT , ,
ft . freminet + gn reader
genre : mostly angst + a sprinkle of comfort
summary : you and freminet were supposed to have a friendly hang out session today , but something seems off about him . . .
administration note : hi there ! I know it's been a while since i've posted on here but I'm back ! this is just a silly freminet oneshot i decided to do for him bc he's one of my favorite characters so far in fontaine so enjoy ! :] (im praying this doesn't flop so please enjoy)
warnings : not proofread + emo freminet /j ?! + slight trauma dump from freminet (but comfort from reader in the end <3) + sibling crumbs for you lot + quite short
word count : 1.0K
written by pio on the 9th of september 2023 , !! DO NOT COPY OR STEAL !!
. . .
today, you felt like it would be a great day to go out with your friend freminet, you had felt like you two hadn't hung out for a while since last monday, so why not try talking to him?
although yes, it was common for him to be an introvert most of the time and you knew that pretty much from the beginning when you two first met. it wasn't like him to be distant from people for longer than 3 days, not a whole week.
you couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong. . .
you asked lyney when you saw him out in public,
"ah! , yes of course I have! but uh. . . lately he's been seeming a little off. . . like as if he's not himself "
well at least now you knew he wasn't dead.
you decided to ask lynette about freminet as well,
"yes, but freminet has been avoiding occasions such as eating, me and lyney's shows, and also sleeping." she said,
huh? he's been. . . skipping meals and sleep? did you hear that right?
now you really needed to see him and have a proper talk.
a few hours later, you arrived at the house of the three siblings. you knew that the two of the three were out hosting a show at the Debord hotel, so it just had to be freminet in the house. besides, you knew he wasn't a fan of being outside that much. so he had to be in here.
you knocked on the door, to which at first, the doorknob didn't twist. but when you called out, the door opened after a while of silence.
there stood freminet at the door, you could only see him a little because he was hiding his face behind the door. "Y/N. . .?" he whispered. "freminet. . ." you said his full name which meant you were serious with a hint of sadness in your eyes when you saw him, a frown found it's way on your face.
he looked so pale, the dark circles under his eyes, and his slow. . . very slow figure that was barely holding onto the door. "what- what happened. .?" you whispered, but soon freminet would cut you off. "uh, please. . . please don't tell my siblings about my state. . ." he said. "how long have you been like this fremi. . .?" you asked, "can i come in?" you asked, that last question took him a while to answer before opening the door enough to fit you inside. to which he quickly shut the door.
he gestured for you to follow him into his bedroom upstairs, but you quickly interrupted him. "aren't you hungry?" you asked him, that made freminet's stomach growl quite loudly. indicating that yes. . . he was in fact hungry, "i uh-" "no, you're eating. now." you protested, almost talking to him in a mother like tone.
. . .
it was quiet between you two while you made freminet something to eat, as he sat there waiting at the dining room table with his legs propped up straight and his arms off the table like you two were in the setting of a strict family household at dinner time. the sound of the kettle boiling, the stove being used, and the sink being used to wash some vegetables. you broke the silence when you noticed him at the table, and the sound of your voice nearly made him jumped from how silent it was before.
"you know, you don't have to be so formal just for a meal when around me." you said, it seemed to make freminet's tense figure relax a little. "I don't want you feeling like you're back in the house of hearth again. . ." you sighed, continuing to chop up the vegetables you were prepping after you washed them. but then. . . you heard the sound of. . . sniffling? or maybe it was sobbing?
you snapped your head to look back at freminet who was crying a little, it actually shocked you a bit. this was the first time you've seen him cry in years. but it pained your heart a little, you quickly walked over to him and pulled a chair from the table and sat next to him. rubbing his back soothingly and shushing him, "hey, hey. . . it's alright, im here." you said. comforting him throughout his sibs, "why're you crying?" you asked. freminet quickly wiped his tears and acted strong as he didn't even realize he was crying in front of you. "father says that people who cry are like broken toys. . ." he said, "Y/N. . . am i, broken to you?" he asked you. your heart only softened at this question, "you're not broken to me or anybody else, don't think that." you said, " i think. . . lyney and lynette are broken too. . . like me." he said.
thats when you turned his head to face you, "freminet, look at me." you said. "to me, you're strong, brave, and so amazing when it comes to being independent!" you said, "you will never be seen as a broken person to be, rather, somebody who can be fixed by somebody." you said. your hands were on freminets shoulders as you looked at him deep in the eyes, your words seemed to have some sort of affect on freminet as he stared at you in awe yet also in a daze. "I- well-" freminet stuttered a little from his crying as he sniffled a bit again, wiping his eyes with his nightshirt long sleeve as he looked at you again. "you think so?" he said, "yes of course!" you said. his face now relaxed a little as he was still forming tears from his eyes whilst looking at you.
"thank you, Y/N." freminet said, "for everything..." he said with a faint smile. "i really needed some comfort from somebody like you.."
"don't mention it, now. wait here while i make your food before your stomach grumbles even louder." you said before walking back into the kitchen, right in time when the twins came back from their performance. . .
#genshin#genshin impact#angst#genshin impact x reader#fluff#freminet#lyney and lynette#lyney#lynette#fontaine
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Baekhyun: Second thoughts & Second Chances
Baekhyun raised the volume of his car radio as he slowed his car to a halt in front of a stoplight. The night was quiet and there were very few cars around him. He’d worked a long day, and now he couldn't wait to get home to rest for the evening.
The songs on the radio were old western throwbacks, a small station Baekhyun casually liked very much. The current song playing was Dean Martin's Everybody Loves Somebody.
Baekhyun hummed along to the song, not particularly thinking of anything at first.
It wasn't until about halfway through the second verse that Baekhyun caught up to the message behind a few of the lyrics;
Everybody finds somebody someplace,
There's no telling where love may appear.
Baekhyun had found many “someone’s” at different points of his life, though none of them had ever lasted very long.
The boy reminisced on his last love,
you.
"Just a few months ago," he pondered, "we were doing so well."
Crazy how everything changes, he thought.
The light in front of him turns green, and he continues the rest of his drive home quietly lost in thought.
It wasn't until later that night when Baekhyun was sitting alone in his kitchen that he realized how much he really missed you. And it wasn't the only sudden night that he was in his sudden feels about you, either. The thought of your past relationship together would repeatedly resurface when the smallest of things reminded him of you.
Song lyrics, couples walking in public, heart-shaped donuts at a sweet shop's window.
There was always something that tied his thoughts back to you.
“Ah,” he sighed as he scrolled through your profile whilst drinking a glass of wine at his bar table.
You still look just as great as you did when I first met you.
Baekhyun sipped his wine slowly, his thoughts recalling a promise that he’d made you once, though it never really came true.
I'll always come back for you, especially when our relationship hits a rough patch. I think you're worth fighting for.
Baekhyun put his phone face-down onto the marble countertop and rubbed his eyes in frustration. When he closed his eyes, he saw you and him sharing treasured memories together, the sounds of your laughter and the feel of your soft lips against his.
When he opened his eyes, nothing more than an empty living room and the distant sound of the AC greeted him, and all the memories of you had dissipated into nothing.
What am I doing?
The tired boy poured himself a third glass of wine and began sipping it steadily. He wasn't totally buzzed yet, but he definitely would be going that route if he didn't stop thinking about you.
He decided that the only way to give himself a peace of mind was to check up on you after all these months of not doing so.
Baekhyun opened a new conversation with you on Instagram and hesitated for a moment to consider what he had to say.
What could you possibly tell someone after you broke up with them?
He feels his thumbs typing away until a half-coherent message is written out.
[Baekhyun: Hi, I hope I'm not disturbing you if I reach out like this..]
To his surprise, the <Online> bubble next to your name turns green, and he sees that you've read his message.
His heart falls heavy into his chest as he scrambles to think of what to say next, assuming and hoping you'd reply. To his surprise, you did.
[New DM: Hi Baek!! :) Long time no see!]
Baekhyun mindlessly typed away at his phone, the lingering effects of his wine eventually kicking in and convincing him to just say what he had on his mind.
[Baekhyun: I don't mean to pop up so suddenly, but I was thinking about a promise I made you that I realize now, I never kept..]
[New DM: Oh? What promise?]
Baekhyun took a deep breath before taking another long sip of his wine.
[Baekhyun: That I'd come back for you, even after the worst]
[Baekhyun: I didn't do that for you.. I guess I'm here to apologize, though maybe I should've done it more formally than over instagram]
[New DM: <is typing...>]
[New DM: Baek, it's been months since our breakup... I hope that guilt hasn't been eating you up this whole time. You deserve better..]
[New DM: But I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about you the same way this whole time]
Baekhyun felt himself relax for a moment, hoping that perhaps there would be a chance at rekindling what you once had all over again if your feeling truly were mutual.
[New DM: But I also feel like I should tell you before this conversation progresses any further... I've fallen in love with someone else...]
At that, Baekhyun puts his phone back down against the table and rests his head over his crossed over the marble counter.
And there it is...
I made the mistake of letting you go.
Baekhyun's eyes filled with drunken tears of sorrow and regret, the sound of your incoming messages making his phone buzz and the countertop vibrate.
But the exhausted and heartbroken boy did not pick up his phone again, nor was he prepared to face the conversation with you that would surely soon ensue.
He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that you'd moved on so quickly.
He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that the breakup was stupidly caused over sasaengs who'd threatened to leak your personal information online if he hadn't broken you off.
He wasn't prepared to accept not doing more with his authority.
He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that he didn't think of any other gateway to protect you, and his response was to break the beautiful relationship you once shared, and how it shattered your heart in the process.
He wasn't prepared for the worst,
losing you to someone who would now surely protect you more than he ever could.
My intentions weren't to harm you.
I wish I got to tell you this.
Instead, the oven clock in the kitchen ticked away into the night, and soft, exhausted snores eventually filled the voided air of the otherwise quiet, empty apartment.
#kpop#kpop imagines#exo#kpop fanfic#kpop edits#exo fanfic#byun baekhyun#baekhyun#exo baekhyun#Baekhyun exo#Baekhyun fluff#baekhyun imagine#exo kpop#exo kai#exo sehun#exo lay#lay zhang#do kyungsoo#exo suho#exo chen#exo xiumin#exo chanyeol#baekhyun fanfic#exo fanfics#exo requests#baekhyun boyfriend material#exo boyfriend material#exo oneshots#baekhyun oneshots#baekhyun oneshot
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Another - Rio x F! Reader Part 4
When Emma chooses another, Rio has to go home without her... But there's more awaiting him than just forgotten memories...
Themes: hurt and healing, facing the past, learning to love again, aka angst with a happy ending!
Notes: angst, Rio route spoilers, eventual smut, written from Rio's POV
Part 3
While the moonlight dances with the waves on your ceiling, your mind swirls with a tide of emotion. As the remorse ebbs the fear rises; will the rest of your life together flow on thus?
Your time — consumed with royal duties until you become king or, worse, never end as you slave away under one of your brothers for the people of your country?
Your marriage — loveless as you drift along until you no longer speak, so distant that you end up treating strangers with more courtesy than one another?
Your child — growing up out of sight, knowing little more of you than stories and paintings, until she is grown and gone, sacrificed into her own loveless marriage for the sake of politics?
The mere idea of a man as callous as your past self inflicting the same pain on your daughter as you have caused your wife horrifies you. Like a ship tossed in a storm you're hit with the violent realization that you are the only one capable of altering the course of this relationship.
Queasy and shaking, you stumble out of bed to the balcony, praying that the calm sea will quell your revulsion. One after another the waves roll in, lapping gently against the shoreline, until they have brought with them the rising tide of change.
Even if you never love your wife to the capacity you know your heart is capable of, you must try... If not for her, for yourself, for the man you have worked so hard to become.
At daybreak you inform your valet that you will no longer participate in any business or public affairs before breakfast and immediately head to the kitchen. You are reluctantly admitted after frightening the scullery maids half to death just by appearing in the servants’ quarters and having a territorial argument with the head cook in which you were forced to pull rank.
Much to the astonishment of the staff, you leave pushing a trolley of assorted dishes and pastries a few short hours later with plenty remaining for the servants to enjoy themselves.
While you busy yourself setting out all that has been whipped up, you wait nervously for the footman to bring back an answer.
Perhaps she's not up yet.
Perhaps she's busy tending to mother.
Perhaps she's not feeling well.
Perhaps… she's not interested…
“She will be here as soon as she can make herself presentable, Your Highness,” your valet relays with friendly reassurance, giving you permission to breathe for the first time since last night.
When you catch a glimpse of her blurred figure through the tall glass doors to the solarium you abandon the lilies that fill the room with their lush fragrance and move quickly to greet her. Peeking through the door as your valet opens it you see she looks very different.
Like you she's not yet dressed in her formal attire. Her dressing gown is silk, yet it's much simpler than what you've seen her wear up until now. Since you've arrived, you've only met her in the afternoons when more formal garb is required.
She's very charming with her hair unstyled and her clothes loose fitting…
Curtseying low and bowing her head she speaks, “You called, Your Highness?”
Offering her your arm you answer gently, “There's no need for such formalities. I'm your husband, not your lord. Please, just use my name.”
She relaxes visibly at the reply. At least until you lead her to the spread of dishes across the table.
“Is something the matter?” you ask as you feel her hand clench in your elbow.
“Are we to dine together?” she asks, blinking up at you in shock.
“If you'd allow me the honour, yes. Is something the matter?”
“Your Highness, have you forgotten court protocol? Men and women are always segregated at formal events such as banquets. We've only dined together at our wedding…”
“Ah… I seem to have forgotten even the simplest of things, haven't I? If I'm not mistaken though, there are no restrictions when there is no public present, correct?”
“Correct, Your Highness.”
“Please, Valerio will do.”
Even if I hate that name now…
“Yes, Prince Valerio.”
“Then would you grace me with your presence this morning, and if you may be so obliging, I'd like to take breakfast with you every day. Though I can never guarantee my availability in the evening, I can dedicate my mornings to my family.”
Stumbling through her words she almost whispers, “If… that is what you wish…”
“It is,” you assure her, smiling and pulling out her chair for her.
When you take the seat next to her, you answer her inquisitive gaze, “I made as many different dishes as I could because I couldn't remember your tastes… but I guess I never actually knew them…”
“Wait. You made this?” her voice is but a breath now.
“All of it.”
Turning in her chair to face you she asks, “Since when can you cook?” clearly taken aback.
With a helpless shrug you explain, “Since I had to live on my own in Rholodite. Now enough about me. What do you prefer, tea or coffee?”
Meekly she answers and you continue with, “Milk? Sugar?”
From the way she watches you with wide eyes when you move to pour her drink you only hope you won't end up scaring her away more than past you already has.
When that's settled you point to each platter and explain in detail, all the while inquiring about whether she prefers fruit or pastries or fruit pastries or neither, and so on until you fill her plate.
“What brought all this on, Valerio? You've been home nearly a month, but this still feels so abrupt…” she asks softly, the shock replaced with concern in her eyes.
“I don't want to return to my old self. I don't want our relationship to continue the way it did before…”
She studies you warily a moment before mumbling, “It's quite a change…”
Turning in your seat, you lay one arm over the back of her chair and tell her earnestly, “If not now, then when will I have the opportunity to be closer to you?”
“You want… that?”
“Yes. Very much. At least, I want to try…”
“Why the sudden interest after so many years… when you're still in love with another woman…?”
The pain in her eyes is as clear as the waters that ebb and flow at the castle’s shore. You hope sincerity is just as bright in yours.
“How will I ever let her go if I never give myself the chance? I won't be so cruel as to make empty declarations of passion, but as your husband I want to at least care for you. If you'll allow me, that is.”
Taking her smaller hand in yours you bring her fingers to your lips in a silent promise of devotion.
Part 5
🧡🫣🧡Tag list: @drachonia @outtayourmouth @maries-gallery @lamiefromage @tele86 @omkookie @queengiuliettafirstlady @altairring
#ikemen prince#ikepri#rio ortiz#ikemen prince rio#ikemen prince rio ortiz#ikemen rio#ikepri rio#ikepri fanfic#ikepri x reader
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Dude. Of course there's none of that literature available to the public. Just like how none of the literature in the Vatican vaults are available to the public. You'd be surprised just how easy it is to keep people in the dark
You, anon, severely underestimate just how much literature a global satanic conspiracy like this would need to have - not just in some secret vault somewhere, but in the homes and gathering places of the conspirators.
(For anyone who's missed the conversation so far, I'm going to talk about Catholics here because the conspirators are frequently imagined as Catholics But Like Really Super Evil, with an incredibly strict, demanding, and very formal religion.)
Have you ever seen a missal before? It's a pretty thick book, and every priest uses one each Mass. Catholic churches also provide missalettes to congregants so they can follow along, and despite the name, missalettes aren't exactly tiny books, either.
Additionally, Catholics have whole encyclopedias defining their terms because, guess what, people being on the same page about what's what is necessary for a religion with this level of cohesion. This encyclopedia set has fifteen thick volumes.
I think the average Christian, or culturally Christian atheist or agnostic, just sort of assumes that all any religion needs is a holy book equivalent to the Bible. But in reality there needs to be literature that defines the religion's vocabulary, describes what is and isn't acceptable practice, describes what ritual clothing, tools, etc. must look like and what it must be made from, and provide instructions for conducting rituals. This literature must be available to all clergy.
Conspiracy theorists assert that this satanic clergy is lurking everywhere. If this was so, then some of the aforementioned literature would end up uncovered at some point; it would be found in a police raid, or leaked on the Internet, or something. If all of these people claiming to be former clergy within the global satanic cult were speaking the truth, many of them would be able to produce this literature, because they would have to actually own it.
Some conspiracy theorists cite various grimoires as texts the cult supposedly uses, but having read these books for myself, I can most definitely say that they do not contain the type of necessary content I'm talking about. And worth noting, these kinds of books are typically written for lone practitioners. They are, after all, describing immensely heretical practices that anyone in their time would be very unlikely to find many cohorts for. These old grimoires would have to be entirely rewritten to accommodate an entire congregation, which would produce even more literature the conspirators would have to own.
So yeah, if this kind of conspiracy actually existed, a fair amount of its literature would have gotten out to the public already; it couldn't not. The fact that you think they could keep all of this hidden forever shows that you really do not comprehend the scale of what the conspiracy theorists are actually proposing, at all.
#answered#conspiracy theories#conspiracy theory#conspiracism#critical thinking#sra#satanic ritual abuse#satanic panic
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