#a new one that connects with Unveiled

[cupid-styles]

daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)

part one of english profrry is here!!!!!

word count: 6.3k

BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.

other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy

with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!

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. . .

Professor Styles is a dick. 

That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.

They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline. 

She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.

He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful. 

In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down. 

Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall. 

But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.

Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.

In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down. 

When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch. 

“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held. 

“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”

“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”

She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.

“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”

She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”

He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office. 

“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”

She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.

“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”

“Um, your sections were always full—”

“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”

She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face. 

“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”

“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back. 

“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”

He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.

(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)

“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”

She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee. 

“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”

She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.

. . .

Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks. 

It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”

If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her. 

And it’s driving her absolutely insane.

She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.

It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.

Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.

She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder. 

Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected. 

“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.” 

His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time. 

“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”

“Do you live far from campus?”

She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things. 

“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”

He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up. 

“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”

As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class. 

. . .

That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target. 

She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out. 

It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.

It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.

And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters. 

She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather. 

She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle. 

“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught. 

Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.

“Um, sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”

“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”

“In a public store?”

“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”

“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.

“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”

He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.

When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.

“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her. 

“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“This should help with that.”

“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”

Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.

“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”

“Sure, okay.”

They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.

“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”

“Is that the one you like?”

Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her. 

“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”

She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down. 

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.

“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store. 

. . .

Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.

She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened. 

It irks Y/N to no end.

She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public. 

“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”

Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane. 

“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”

She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that. 

Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”

“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”

“It is.”

“But you studied it.”

“I did.”

“So why would you say that?”

Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day. 

“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”

Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”

“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”

She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.

“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line. 

“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”

Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair. 

“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”

“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”

“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”

He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”

“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”

He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat. 

“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”

. . .

That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit. 

He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her. 

He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise. 

That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.

And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?

Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.

So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs. 

He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.

He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.

. . .

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Today

Time: 9:57 p.m.

Hi Y/N, 

I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.

Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.

x Harry Styles

. . .

On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring. 

It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it. 

She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name! 

It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide. 

She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot. 

Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.

The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on. 

Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump. 

“Can we talk?”

Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.

“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”

“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing. 

“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”

“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”

“You are.”

“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”

“To me being… kind?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening. 

“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.

“Harry,” he corrects.

“What?”

“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”

Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot. 

“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive. 

His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”

Thinking of you.

I spent the weekend thinking of you.

Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment. 

“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office. 

“Y/N—”

Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.

“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”

She’s gone before he can stop her. 

. . .

Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening. 

It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable. 

He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.

His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening. 

He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out. 

And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N. 

He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”

At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness. 

So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.

“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand. 

But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven. 

That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.

He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—

His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”

#writing #English profrry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic rec #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #one direction #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc

[sayruq]

A new investigation by +972 Magazine and Local Call reveals that the Israeli army has developed an artificial intelligence-based program known as “Lavender,” unveiled here for the first time. According to six Israeli intelligence officers, who have all served in the army during the current war on the Gaza Strip and had first-hand involvement with the use of AI to generate targets for assassination, Lavender has played a central role in the unprecedented bombing of Palestinians, especially during the early stages of the war. In fact, according to the sources, its influence on the military’s operations was such that they essentially treated the outputs of the AI machine “as if it were a human decision.”

During the early stages of the war, the army gave sweeping approval for officers to adopt Lavender’s kill lists, with no requirement to thoroughly check why the machine made those choices or to examine the raw intelligence data on which they were based. One source stated that human personnel often served only as a “rubber stamp” for the machine’s decisions, adding that, normally, they would personally devote only about “20 seconds” to each target before authorizing a bombing — just to make sure the Lavender-marked target is male. This was despite knowing that the system makes what are regarded as “errors” in approximately 10 percent of cases, and is known to occasionally mark individuals who have merely a loose connection to militant groups, or no connection at all. Moreover, the Israeli army systematically attacked the targeted individuals while they were in their homes — usually at night while their whole families were present — rather than during the course of military activity. According to the sources, this was because, from what they regarded as an intelligence standpoint, it was easier to locate the individuals in their private houses. Additional automated systems, including one called “Where’s Daddy?” also revealed here for the first time, were used specifically to track the targeted individuals and carry out bombings when they had entered their family’s residences.

The Lavender machine joins another AI system, “The Gospel,” about which information was revealed in a previous investigation by +972 and Local Call in November 2023, as well as in the Israeli military’s own publications. A fundamental difference between the two systems is in the definition of the target: whereas The Gospel marks buildings and structures that the army claims militants operate from, Lavender marks people — and puts them on a kill list. In addition, according to the sources, when it came to targeting alleged junior militants marked by Lavender, the army preferred to only use unguided missiles, commonly known as “dumb” bombs (in contrast to “smart” precision bombs), which can destroy entire buildings on top of their occupants and cause significant casualties. “You don’t want to waste expensive bombs on unimportant people — it’s very expensive for the country and there’s a shortage [of those bombs],” said C., one of the intelligence officers. Another source said that they had personally authorized the bombing of “hundreds” of private homes of alleged junior operatives marked by Lavender, with many of these attacks killing civilians and entire families as “collateral damage.”

Remember, the Israeli occupation government considers all men over the age of 16 to be Hamas operatives hence why they've claimed to have killed over 9,000 of them (which matches the number of Palestinian men killed according to the Ministry of Health). So, when the article speaks of 'low level' or 'high level militants' they're likely speaking of civilians.

If Israel knew who Hamas fighters are, Oct 7th wouldn't have caught them off guard and they wouldn't still be fighting the Palestinian resistance every single day.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #war crimes #gaza genocide #genocide #artificial intelligence #ai #long post

[nayziiz]

Comfort Person | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Attending the McLaren gala marked a significant step forward in their relationship. For a whole year, they had carefully cultivated their love away from the prying eyes of the public, choosing to keep their affection shielded from the spotlight. Their social media presence, though scant, hinted at a deeper connection, evident through the occasional birthday mentions and celebratory nods to his triumphs on the racetrack.

But this gala was different. It was a statement, a declaration of their commitment, and a subtle unveiling of their love to the world. While their relationship had been an open secret among close friends and those within the inner circle of the Formula 1 world, this event would bring it to a broader audience.

For her, agreeing to attend the gala was both exciting and nerve-wracking. Stepping into the glamorous world of Formula 1, filled with its high-profile personalities and dazzling events, was a departure from her usual realm. She had only dipped her toes into this world on three occasions, each time experiencing the thrill of the races in Monaco, Belgium, and Silverstone. Yet, despite her limited exposure to the paddock, she found herself drawn to the adrenaline-fueled atmosphere and the magnetic pull of his passion for the sport.

Her demanding career imposed limitations on her ability to accompany him to every race and event, forcing her to carefully select which ones she could attend. Despite the constraints of her professional obligations, she was determined to be there for him in whatever capacity she could manage.

For him, her unwavering support transcended physical presence. Knowing that she would wake up in the early hours of the morning or stay up late into the night to watch his races brought him immense comfort and strength. Her dedication, even from afar, served as a source of motivation during the most gruelling moments on the track.

In the midst of the frenetic pace of the Formula 1 season, her steadfast encouragement provided him with a sense of grounding and reassurance. Whether she was cheering him on from the stands or sending him words of encouragement through late-night texts, her presence loomed large in his heart and mind.

Their relationship was built on a foundation of understanding and compromise, with each of them making sacrifices to support the other's dreams and aspirations. While her absence at certain events weighed heavily on her, she took solace in the knowledge that her love and support transcended geographical boundaries.

The day was a canvas of intimacy, each moment painted with tenderness and shared anticipation. As they lingered in her apartment, the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them enveloped in a cocoon of affection.

Showering together was a dance of intimacy, the warm water cascading over their bodies like a gentle caress. He tenderly washed her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp with care and devotion. In that shared moment of vulnerability, their connection deepened, each touch speaking volumes of their love for one another.

As she dried her hair, she watched him with a soft smile as he meticulously shaved away the stray stubble, his concentration mirrored in the steady strokes of his razor. Even the simplest of tasks became moments to be savoured in each other's presence, the ordinary transformed into something extraordinary by the power of their love.

For him, the mundane rituals of getting ready took on new significance with her by his side. Every glance exchanged, every shared laugh, was a reminder of the profound joy he felt in having her as his partner. Her presence infused even the simplest moments with an electric energy, sparking excitement in his heart and a smile on his lips.

As he stood poised with the razor in hand, ready to rid himself of the faint traces of stubble that adorned his face, she intervened, her voice soft but determined.

“No, leave it. It looks hot, my love,” she said, her gaze lingering on him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. He paused, caught off guard by her unexpected request.

“But I thought you hated facial hair,” he replied, a hint of confusion tingling his words. A playful smile curved her lips as she stepped closer, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. 

“I've grown to love it because it's on you,” she confessed, her eyes sparkling with affection. He couldn't help but chuckle at her response, his heart swelling with warmth at her words.

“You're special, you know that,” he murmured, his voice laced with genuine admiration.

“Uh, huh. That's why you keep me around,” A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she teased him. He pulled her into his arms, unable to resist the urge to shower her with kisses. 

Lando couldn't help but chuckle as he left her in the bathroom to put the finishing touches on her makeup. With a playful grin, he made his way to the kitchen to retrieve some snacks before the event.

After a few minutes, he heard the soft tapping of her heels against the hardwood floors, signalling her emergence from the bedroom. He turned, almost instinctively, his curiosity piqued by the sound of her approach.

His breath caught in his throat as she sauntered past him, the fabric of her dark orange dress flowing around her like molten lava, casting a mesmerising glow in the dim light of the apartment. She looked radiant, her beauty captivating him in a way that never failed to leave him breathless.

As she disappeared into the kitchen, he couldn't tear his gaze away, his jaw dropping slightly in awe. She was stunning, more breathtaking than he had ever seen her before.

When she finally turned to face him, their eyes locked in an unspoken exchange of admiration and affection. In that moment, words seemed unnecessary as the intensity of their connection spoke volumes, filling the space between them with an electric energy that crackled with anticipation.

“Are you just going to sit there and gawk at me?” She asked, her tone light but teasing.

“Yes,” he replied without missing a beat, his gaze lingering on her with unapologetic admiration. A mock scowl crossed her features as she shook her head, a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes.

“Well, stop it. You look stupid. Go put on your suit before we're late,” she instructed, her voice tinged with playful admonishment.

After dutifully adhering to her request and donning his suit, Lando returned to the kitchen to find her engrossed in replying to a few messages. With a tender smile, he approached her from behind, his footsteps silent against the floor.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down her spine. She leaned back into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access.

In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them cocooned in a bubble of affection. His touch was a soothing balm against the chaos of the day, grounding her in the present and reminding her of the love they shared. As he lingered against her, his arms holding her close, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. In his embrace, she found solace and reassurance

“I can't wait to do this with you for the rest of my life,” Lando whispered, his voice filled with sincerity as he gazed into her eyes. A soft smile graced her lips as she met his gaze, her heart swelling with love for him.

“Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper but resounding with a depth of emotion that echoed his own.

In that fleeting moment, the weight of their words hung in the air, binding them together in a promise of forever. It was a declaration of their love, a pledge to stand by each other through every twist and turn that life may bring.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #formula one #mclaren racing #lando norris x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #lando x you #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff

[xtra7s]

𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 (𝗪𝗟𝗪) ──── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee and Y/N got casted as lovers in a new show

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, G!P!Renee, penatration sex, alcohol

Word Count: 1.5k

masterlist | part 2

In the bustling city of Los Angeles, two talented individuals were about to embark on a thrilling journey that would forever change their lives. Renee Rapp, a celebrated popstar and actor, was known for her enchanting performances that captivated audiences worldwide. Y/N, a rising starlet, had recently made a name for herself with her remarkable acting skills.

Fate had brought them together unexpectedly as they were cast as co-stars in a groundbreaking lesbian show, “Unveiling Hearts.” The series aimed to celebrate diverse love stories and break barriers, resonating deeply with a very gay fanbase.

From the moment they met during the first script reading, sparks flew between Renee and Y/N. However, their connection wasn’t just limited to their on-screen chemistry. They both sensed an undeniable tension that lingered beneath the surface, threatening to unravel even the most composed of scenes.

As the filming progressed, the tension between the two actresses grew more palpable. Their characters’ love story mirrored the intensity of their own hidden desires, making it increasingly challenging to distinguish fiction from reality. The lines between acting and genuine emotions began to blur.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Renee invited Y/N to her trailer to practice a moment they were about to film the next day. The air was thick with unspoken desires as they found themselves slightly drunk on boxed wine, alone in the intimate space. The trailer’s dim lighting and the sound of raindrops against the windows added to the charged atmosphere.

The soft hum of distant music filled the air as they settled onto a plush couch, both feeling a subtle excitement hanging in the atmosphere.

The two had been practicing for quite some time, deciding to chill out for a bit. However, there was an unspoken tension lingering between them. A connection that had subtly shifted, leaving a delicate anticipation in its wake.

As they sat side by side, Renee couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N. The gentle flicker of the candles played on Y/N's face, casting a soft glow that highlighted their features. Renee's heart raced as she felt a magnetic pull towards Y/N, a longing that had been building over time.

Y/N, sensing the shift in the air, turned to meet Renee's gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt as if the world around them had faded away. The conversation paused, replaced by a silent understanding that something was about to change.

Renee's hand found its way to Y/N's, fingers intertwining as they shared a shy smile. The touch sent a wave of warmth through both of them, breaking down the barriers that had kept their feelings hidden.

The room seemed to shrink as they inched closer, drawn by an invisible force. Renee's hot breathe lingering on Y/Ns lips, creating a delicate dance of shared anticipation. It was a moment suspended in time, filled with the unspoken promise of something beautiful.

And then, with a soft and genuine tenderness, their lips met. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the unspoken emotions that had lingered between them for so long. Time seemed to stand still as they explored the sweetness of that shared connection.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and their inhibitions melted away. Their bodies moved in sync, fueled by a passion that had long been suppressed.

The initial kiss ignited a spark between Renee and Y/N, and as they pulled away, there was a shared, unspoken agreement that they both wanted more. The atmosphere in the room shifted, charged with a newfound intensity that neither of them could ignore.

Without breaking eye contact, Renee cupped Y/N's face with a gentle touch, her thumb tracing soft circles on Y/N's cheek. Y/N reciprocated by running their fingers through Renee's hair, a silent encouragement that spoke volumes. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as they closed the gap between them once again.

Their second kiss was more rough, a testament to the emotions that had been building up between them. Lips moved in sync, exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. It was a dance of passion and vulnerability, a language only they understood.

Renee's heart raced, feeling the warmth of Y/N's body pressed against hers. The couch beneath them became a haven, a place where time seemed to slow down as they lost themselves in the shared rhythm of their kisses. The soft sounds of their breaths, the gentle sighs, and the occasional quiet giggle filled the room.

As the intensity of their embrace deepened, Renee's hands traced the contours of Y/N's back, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Y/N, in turn, explored the landscape of Renee's shoulders, fingers dancing delicately along her skin. Every touch communicated a depth of connection that went beyond mere physicality.

The world outside seemed to fade away as they continued their intimate exchange, wrapped up in the blissful cocoon of their shared affection. Time became irrelevant as they surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing them closer.

Y/N's hand rested on top of Renee's thigh, squeezing gently before slowly sliding upward towards her inner thigh. Their fingers traced delicate circles around the hem of her shorts, teasingly brushing against her sensitive skin. Renee bit her lower lip nervously, squirming slightly in anticipation of what was coming next.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered out, her voice trembling with uncertainty mixed with excitement. Y/N nodded reassuringly, their thumb rubbing circles on the exposed flesh above her knee.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Y/N replied confidently, her eyes locked onto hers. Their lips crashed together hungrily, tongues dancing wildly in each other's mouths as they became more bold in their movements. Their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring every curve and dip until finally, Y/N reached beneath Renee's shirt and pushed it upwards, exposing her boobs to the cool air.

Renee gasped softly as Y/N cupped one breast in her palm, massaging it gently while sucking on her neck and chest. Her nipples hardened instantly under the attention, standing erect and begging for more stimulation. Y/N's fingers fumbled with the clasp holding her bra in place, finally freeing both breasts from their confines. They began to knead and tweak them roughly, causing Renee to arch her back into the touch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N" she moaned, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Renee's hands found their way beneath Y/N's tank top, running upwards along their torso until reaching her navel. She circled it slowly at first, savoring the sensation of skin on skin before working her way upwards to cup Y/N's breasts as well.

Their bodies continued to move together rhythmically, their hips grinding against each other in sync with their passionate kisses. Y/N's hand reached down between them, her hand leading between Renee's thigh. With a grin against Renee's lips, She pushed her hand under Renee's shorts, gasping into Renee's mouth when she feels her hard cock and the precum covering the tip.

"Is this all for me, pretty?"

Y/N worked off Renee's shorts and boxers, taking off the rest of her clothes after Renee. Between Renee's legs, Her erect member rubbing against Y/Ns thigh as she sits on Renee's lap. "Tell me you want this too," Renee panted, her breath hot against her ear lobe.

"Please, Renee" Y/N managed to choke out as she kisses Y/N, her voice hoarse with desire. Renee kissed Y/N passionately, "Tell me if you want to stop" She whispers, before slowly pushing inside Y/N, sinking inside of her and stretching her out to fit her cock. Y/N moaned out in both pain and pleasure as Renee continued to move deeper inside her, filling every inch of her up.

Once fully inside, Renee began to thrust her hips rhythmically, hitting all the right spots within Y/N's body. Their hips rocked in unison, generating a wet slapping sound that reverberated throughout the room. Their bodies were now covered in sweat, evidence of their intense fucking.

Y/N gripped onto Renee's shoulders tightly, her nails digging into their skin as she struggled to find a stable place to put her hands amidst the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. Her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as orgasm after orgasm washed over her, leaving Y/N's body shaking uncontrollably.

Renee, also feeling her own climax rapidly approaching, picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder than before. Their breathing became more labored, their bodies slapping against each other in sync with each powerful thrust.

Y/N leaned up, kissing Renee sloppily as she pounds into her, "I'm close... I'm cumming..." Renee moaned, her voice hoarse with desire. At the same time, Y/N yelled out her own release, her juices coating both of them liberally. Renee pulled out, cumming on Y/N's thigh as they continued to move together until their orgasms subsided, panting heavily as they came down from their shared high.

Finally, they collapsed on top of each other, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and fluids. "you're something special," Renee smiled, leaning up as she left soft kisses on Y/N's neck, smiling up at her as they held each other.

#lesbian #wlw #leighton murray x reader #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #leighton murray #the sex lives of college girls #lgbtq #lesbians #g!p #g!p Reneé rapp #reneé rapp #i’m so gay help

[princessjojo-x]

8th House Synastry ✨

eight house rules sex, transformations, merged energies, deep attachments & bonding at the deepest level. this is a a highly intense, fated, addictive, intoxicating, sexual & sometimes frightening rxship. expect obsession, control, friendly competition & high physical attraction. the potency of this aspect can be felt the moment partners meet one another & will intensify the more partners get to know one another. but if partners can handle it, this connection can lead to a beautiful & long lasting rxship, with great learning & genuine devotion. the concept of soul mates being found in eighth house synastry can be true.

within this synastry, everything is felt too much & seems more intense; even a simple glance can send shivers down one’s spine, even small disputes will be hard to forgive & forget. partners will have the highest of highs together & the lowest of lows together. platonic or sexual, interactions with one another will have a very intense undertone. it can even be an enemies to lovers dynamic or a love/hate rxship that hurts so good. the connection becomes much deeper than partner’s anticipated. they planned to have a noncommittal & fun arrangement. but they suddenly want to have an official rxship & hate when that cant be fulfilled. it’s hard for partners to just be “cool” or “superficial” with each other.

if second house is self sufficiency, eight house is merging with someone else. within this emotionally deep rxship, there’s a depth that pervades the connection & binds the partners together, for better or worse. partners suddenly want to change their life path to align with the other. for example, changing their location or career just to be interlocked with one another. it can be so painful if the attraction isn’t mutual which can lead you to act in ways you never thought you’d act (stalking, love spells, extremely possessive behaviour). but if the attraction is mutual it can be one of the most beautiful & deepest rxships.

one subconsciously sees the other as a blessing delivery or redirection to their life, even if they’re being mistreated & the rxship is toxic. this aspect almost always involves blessings disguised in suffering, so it’s not best placement for synastry, unless its backed up by stronger & more grounded placements

it's in the darkness that we find the light & it's in the intensity of these rxships that we find our true selves. romantic or platonic, these rxships are often fated & transformative. their involvement with each other will drastically change both of them. they meet each other to teach each other a lesson they’ll never forget. even though the transformation process can be utterly harsh & traumatic, it produces a new & improved version them. similar to a major surgery, it fixes the problem within but definitely leaves a scar, so you remember the pain of the recovery process.

if second house is our self esteem, eight house is our weak spot. this is where our secrets reside so partners unknowingly uncover each others rawest layers. forget small talk & superfical relations. expect to unveil each-others deepest wounds, fears & desires. even if one is too scared of revealing themself, the other can read them like a book regardless. even if one is typically not the type to disclose their business, they will naturally share their whole life story with the other. partners will be able to open up completely & be understood in a way they never have before. partners bond by delving beneath the tip of the iceberg. but this can become their only point of attraction to one another, whilst their other basic needs for a rxship are not met. many people can't handle this synastry bc its so invasive & overwhelming. eight house governs the deep parts of ourselves that we want to keep hidden. when those parts are seen we feel vulnerable. partners know exactly what to say to either bring up or take down each other. this is an all or nothing rxship which flows deep enough to hurt or heal both partners. it will either cause everlasting love or everlasting trauma.

eight house governs our inner power. planet is able to easily see everything house is capable of. this breeds a rose coloured glasses effect. planet perceives house as more attractive, scary, important etc than house actually is. but this may cause planet to feel intimidated, threatened & jealous. planet’s envy of house provokes planet to gossip or betray house. on the other hand, planet may feel fascination & admiration for house. this causes planet to talk abt house a lot & this is where the infamous obsession comes from. planet may become obsessed with houses hidden side which prompts planet to cross a lot of houses boundaries. for example, planet going through houses phone or diary. when healthy, planet could have a desire to empower house or planet could feel more empowered around house. when unhealthy, planet feels powerless around house & wants to prove themselves to house. what the power struggle is abt depends on the planet. for example, venus causes a power struggle over who’s the most popular, beautiful, wealthy etc.

if second house is the sugar daddy, eight house is the sugar baby. partners may feel urged to give or gain from one another. it's advised to connect with someone you have this synastry with if they have a higher position than you professionally or materially so you can learn from them & gain from the rxship.

since this is such an intense connection, it is difficult for partners to leave each other completely. whenever partners try to move on, there is a sense of being haunted (which is amplified if accompanied by twelve house synastry). for example, you accidentally bump into their friends or family, you see their name eveywhere, you hear the songs they like, you find people with similar faces to them. being constantly reminded of them is why it’s so hard to let them go.

(virgo/libra/sag asc or aquarius placements)

Moon Conjunct 8th House

moon becomes fascinated & obsessed with house emotionally & sexually. moon needs to know everything abt house, including secrets which aren’t shared with anyone else. moon will even cross some boundaries to get this info. moon either doesn’t realise or doesn’t care abt how weird this behaviour may seem. despite house being attracted to moon too, house feels constantly analysed by moon. moon feels the need to spend a lot of time with house to know how they are or see if they need something. house senses the power they have over moon.

however, if there is no physical attraction between these partners or many other bad aspects elsewhere, this connection can become extremely annoying for partners. if these two become enemies there will be no boundaries when it comes to what they will do to take each other down.

moon can be scary obsessed with house & very controlling over how house expresses themselves. moon turns this obsession into a dislike, becoming houses biggest hater, competing with house, gossiping abt house, etc. this can be be very one sided on moons part.

whether they are lovers or enemies, there is no denying house provoke something so intense within moon & moon feels deep emotions when in the company of house. partners always feel what the other feels.

there is always a fear of vulnerability from both partners within this synastry.

(aquarius moon or virgo asc)

Venus Conjunct 8th House

there is a lot of feminine energy & themes here unlike ‘mars conjunct eight house’. this means manipulation, guilt trips, pettiness & emotional outburst will occur frequently. expect strong possession & obsession too, which will be amplified beyond belief if venus is insecure in any way.

venus embodies pluto traits & behaves more tense. house will protect venus from the world. there is a mystery surrounding house that venus can't seem to wrap their head around.

there may be a lot of secrets shared or a lot of secrets kept in this rxship. the rxship may remain a secret from the public eye.

the sex will not be the “one-night stand” type. it will be emotionally deep, affecting both partners.

(aquarius venus or libra asc)

Mars Conjunct 8th House

theres a lot more masculine themes & energy here compared to ‘venus conjunct eighth house’. no matter how airy or earthy mars may be… mars feels very thrilled by house & feels a sense of urgency to conquer house. mars feels compelled to bond & merge with house on every level bc they view house as their guilty pleasure. mars finds themselves constantly observing & intensely infatuated by house in a scorpion way. mars often expresses random & intense bursts of needing to physically touch or be in close reach to house. mars can take on a very intense energy around house that others will pick up on but the sheer depth is something that’ll always only exists between the two partners. convos between the two are very 1 on 1, even with people around them. initially, house feels scared & timid towards mars since mars has such a straightforward, pushy, dominant & rushing approach. house needs to see progress before completely losing their restraint & expressing their feelings. however, house simultaneously feels extremely sexy, mesmerised & aroused by mars’s raw desire. house can read mars very well. mars may provide for house. mars doesn’t forget abt house easily bc house changes mars’s life. rxship may be difficult to end bc mars will be persistent in continuing the rxship.

s3xual tension between partners is powerful & even others can feel it. this can cause partners operating more on instincts & lacking awareness of basic emotions. theres a strong need for physical intimacy & touch. for example, gentle touching or outright fighting. s3x if ever allowed can easily become addictive. partners have s3x like the world is going to end, possibly in forbidden places or secret spots. the s3x involves a lot of teasing, power plays, helping each other masturbate & holding each other as close as possible. s3x is use as an escape or release of stress. s3xually mars takes on a aggressive & passionate role whilst house can become very wild.

since this is the house of taboo, the attraction may be wrong in some way & the rxship feels forbidden even if it’s not. it may be a secretive dynamic where nobody knows they’re together or people wouldn’t expect them to be together.

despite partners feeling intrigued & excited for each other, there’s possibility of heavy feelings (frustration) for one another. one day they love each other, the next day they want to avoid each other. traumas can show through this rxship, like deep talks at night or triggering each others deep wounds. they like to pull each other, but neither takes the bait.

(libra asc or aqua mars)

#astro notes #astrology #astrology synastry #eighth house #mars synastry #moon synastry #venus synastry #synastry

[voidpetrova]

friends — lip gallagher x reader

and what the hell were we?

tell me we weren't just friends

this doesn't make much sense

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, sex, nudity, slut-shaming, arguing, fighting — smut, angst, fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: going from the best of friends to the best of friends with benefits shouldn't be a problem—at least, not until one starts to catch feelings for the other

✧.*

the southside streets were a tapestry of dimly lit alleyways and faded dreams. you found yourself perched on the stoop of the gallagher house, a half-empty beer bottle in your hand. the night was alive with whispers of city life, the distant sounds of sirens and laughter merging into a symphony of chaos. the air carried the sweet tang of uncertainty, a reminder that anything could happen in these streets.

lip gallagher, a mix of charm and raw edges, emerged from the house. his presence was magnetic, drawing you in with a lopsided grin that spoke of countless adventures. “fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, his voice a cocktail of amusement and intrigue.

“fate or coincidence, you decide,” you shot back, the corner of your lips curling into a playful smile. this was your ritual, a dance that had become second nature between you two.

he leaned against the porch railing, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt more intimate than accidental. the conversation flowed effortlessly, a rhythm that only the two of you understood. stories of the latest flings and mishaps unfolded, the honesty between you a testament to a connection that ran deeper than the surface.

as the night stretched on, the dialogue tiptoed along the line between flirtation and confession. every word carried a weight of promise and potential, each laugh a step closer to crossing a boundary that neither of you had dared to name.

lip's gaze held a mixture of challenge and curiosity, his words dipped in a shade of daring. “so, what's the most daring thing you've done lately?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

a smirk tugged at your lips, a telltale sign that you were about to unveil a carefully guarded secret. “well,” you began, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, “i may or may not have found myself in a rather intriguing situation with a certain gallagher.”

His eyebrows arched, his mask of nonchalance slipping just a fraction. “oh, really? do tell.”

you leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you whispered your confession. “let's just say, friends with benefits has taken on a whole new meaning.”

his laughter was a melody that echoed through the night, a mixture of surprise and something else that flickered in his eyes. “you're something else, you know that?” the unspoken truth hung between you, the acknowledgment that this game you were playing had stakes neither of you had anticipated. but as the night drew on, the allure of the unknown kept you tethered to the porch, the city's heartbeat matching your own.

it only took a second for him to close the gap between your lips. the kiss was a collision of pent-up tension and unspoken desires, a fusion of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. his lips were warm against yours, a promise of more to come, as if the touch of his mouth held the answers to questions you hadn't even asked.

the world around you seemed to fade into the background, the distant city noises reduced to a gentle hum. all that mattered was the taste of him, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, his body pressed against yours. as the kiss deepened, so did the complexity of the emotions it unearthed. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a revelation of the layers you'd both been hiding. the hands that had been exploratory in their touch grew steadier, more purposeful, as if mapping out the contours of a future neither of you had planned for.

when the kiss finally broke, you were left breathless, the weight of what had just transpired settling between you like a secret too heavy to bear. lip's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of uncertainty and longing, a reflection of the storm that raged within him. “we should probably go back inside,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

“probably,” you agreed, though neither of you moved. the unspoken words hung between you as he smashed his lips into yours once more, the kiss more feverish than ever.

his fingers trailed along the fabric of your shirt, dipping under the hem as he tugged on it aggressively. you smiled into the kiss, complying as you helped him out, the shirt landing on the floor beneath your feet. the air felt electric, every touch igniting a spark that set your senses ablaze. lip's touch was both urgent and tender, his hands mapping the expanse of your skin as if committing every inch to memory. the porch became a canvas for a connection that had transcended its boundaries, each brush of skin a brushstroke in a masterpiece of vulnerability. as his fingers danced along your spine, you leaned into his touch, savoring the way his breath hitched when you traced the contours of his chest. the unspoken words that had lingered between you now found their voice in the language of touch and sensation.

his lips found your neck, trailing soft kisses that sent ripples of pleasure through you. the world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of stolen intimacy. the night held its breath, as if aware of the gravity of this moment, of how it would reshape the landscape of your connection. “really need this,” he murmured into your neck, his veiny hands finding their way onto your chest, gripping at your boobs with an aggression that made you moan. “had such a shitty fuckin' day.”

you couldn't help but smile as you pushed his hands farther into your tits, giving him all the leverage he needed to grope them harder, unclipping your bra before letting his mouth help him out. “well, what are best friends for?”

he let his teeth sink into your nipples, tongue circling the hardened buds as you shivered under his touch. you were busy yourself, fingers eagerly pulling his jeans down, boxers catching up to them in an instant. you were both bare, nothing you hadn't seen before—but it never got old. his hands traced your toned stomach, rubbing soothing circles into your hipbones before making their way south.

the sensation in his dick became even more unbearable as he ran a sole finger along your slit, picking up all the moisture you had in store for him.

“so fucking wet,” he groaned, admiring the way your sweet slick dripped onto his fingers. “all of this for me?” you nodded in response, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pushed upwards, encouraging him to go further. you didn't have to tell him twice, his index finger pushing its way into you, meaty walls clenching in an instant. you couldn't help but moan, his finger long and sturdy, hitting you where you needed it to.

“let's see how well you take them tonight,” he mused, his pace quickening as the tip of his finger brushed against your sweet spot. you find yourself with your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on his curly locks. he pushed a second finger into you, the burning pain of being stretched out so nicely clashing with overwhelming pleasure. in no time, he had pushed a third finger into you, all three mercilessly pounding inside of you, curling and twisting so that he could prepare you for a bigger treat. “that's a good girl.”

when he slid his fingers out, you whined at the emptyness. he pressed his lips to yours once more, fingers soaked with your arousal. you kissed him back just as hard, just as needy as he trailed his wet fingers up your body, caressing your stomach, tits and neck—before he pulled away, substituting his lips with his fingers. you obliged at the silent demand, swollen lips parted to make way for his thick fingers. he shoved them in carelessly, watching you suck on your own juices to clean him up. he groaned at the sight of you all pretty and desperate for him, he couldn't hold out any longer.

you had your face propped up on your elbows, back arched for him with your ass in his face. he brought down his hand against the meat of your ass harshly, watching it riccochet and bounce back. you mewled at the stinging sensation it left behind as you pushed up against him, eager for another taste. he smirked, knowing you were just as desperate as he was.

when you felt the tip brush past your walls, there was no shutting you up. of course, you've had countless encounters like this with your best friend, and you've seen a considerable amount of dicks in your life—but nothing could compare to him, nothing could make you get bored with him. you let out a cry of ecstasy once he pushed himself in balls-deep, the feeling making you tense up completely.

“so fucking big,” you purred, his hands gripping onto your ass for leverage. “can't take it.” the grip on your ass intensified as he leaned down to your ear, dick pushing into you even deeper than before.

“oh, yes you fucking will,” he argued, hot breath fanning your lobe. “gonna stay there and let me use this pussy like a good little bitch.”

you felt yourself clench around him at his degrading words, a string of disgusting moans leaving your mouth as he fucked you—and he fucked you good. he made sure you felt the way every vein pressed against your walls, the way his tip cruelly slammed against your cervix, the way his balls would slap your ass roughly. neither of you were there to make love—you were there to fuck. you were there to let loose and let go of your stressful issues, and being best friends, you were determined to help each other out.

when he came, he didn't do it quietly. one hand was gripping at the flesh on your ass, sure to leave marks. the other was in your hair, pulling your head towards him while he fucked you, longing to watch how your eyes rolled back at the brutal pleasure. he came with a loud groan, dumping his cum into you, along with the problems the day had in store for him. you followed just a few seconds after, tears rolling down your cheeks as you soaked him, the nirvana positively ecstatic.

“i'm gonna get going,” you breathed out, quick to get back onto your feet after coming down from your high. lip shot you a look as he tucked his elbows behind his head. “no, you're not,” he countered with a yawn. “you're gonna get us some beer and stay over so we can talk about shit.”

the low hum of the room was accompanied by the afterglow of your connection, the air still heavy with the intimacy you'd shared. with a reluctant nod, you slipped into your discarded clothes and made your way to the small kitchen, returning shortly with a couple of cold beers. you settled back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you handed lip a beer. the cans clinked together in a silent toast as you both took a sip, the casual gesture feeling strangely intimate after what had transpired between you.

“so, what's on your mind?” lip asked, his gaze fixed on the ceiling but his attention clearly focused on you. you took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “you remember that guy from our school, sam?”

lip's eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head to look at you. “oh, yeah. captain of the football team, real dick.”

“yeah,” you confirmed, your fingers tracing the rim of the beer can. “we were fucking for a while, but it kind of fizzled out.”

lip's expression was a mixture of curiosity and concern. “what happened?” you shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “just the usual stuff. real small dick.”

silence hung in the air, a bridge between what was said and what was left unsaid before you both broke into laughter. it was your turn to ask, “what about you?”

lip's lips quirked into a wry smile. “my sexcapades aren't as bad as yours,” he took a long sip of his beer before continuing. “well, you remember mandy milkovich?” your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name, though you tried your best to hide it. it was nothing personal with her, she was just a huge cunt. “oh, yeah. real bitch.”

lip's gaze was distant, as if he were recounting a distant memory. “fucked her longer than i counted for, real intense.”

“intense how?” you couldn't help but ask, your curiosity piqued. he let out a soft chuckle. “mandy's got this way of getting under your skin, you know? we were good together, but then we weren't. she wanted more than i was willing to give at the time.”

the honesty in his voice resonated with you, reminding you that the emotions you'd been navigating weren't exclusive to you alone. as you continued to share stories, both trivial and significant, the barriers that had once separated you seemed to crumble, replaced by a newfound understanding of each other's vulnerabilities.

the hours slipped away in a haze of laughter and candid conversation, the connection between you growing deeper with every word exchanged. it was a respite from the chaos of the world, a haven where feelings could be acknowledged without judgment.

eventually, as the night gave way to the early hours of the morning, the two of you lay side by side, the beer cans empty and discarded. the moment was a tranquil pause in a story that had become increasingly complicated, a pause that allowed you to savor the newfound intimacy that had emerged from the ashes of your casual arrangement.

the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across lip's disheveled room. groggily, he rubbed his eyes and shifted, only to find an empty space beside him. confusion settled in as he searched for any sign of you, his mind racing through fragmented memories of the night before.

had you left? or maybe you'd ended up in someone else's bed? of course you left. the thought gnawed at him, igniting an unsettling fire of emotions he wasn't prepared for. lip's fingers brushed against his temple as he attempted to piece together the events of the previous night, the truth feeling elusive.

days turned into a slow build-up of anticipation and anxiety. the absence of your usual banter and casual encounters weighed heavily on him. the evening approached, and you had found yourself at the bar, nursing a drink and trying to settle in for a night of fun you'd been anticipating the past dew days.

as the hours ticked by, a vision of confidence and allure. the room seemed to shift its focus to you, a magnetic force that drew glances from all directions. men couldn't resist approaching, their intentions clear, but their advances met with a firm dismissal.

at the bar, kevin watched with amusement, recognizing the game you were playing. with a sly grin, he intercepted a particularly persistent suitor, delivering a curt “fuck off,” that sent a clear message. unbeknownst to the onlookers, the stage was set, and the tension was building, like the calm before a storm.

the whispers among the patrons painted a picture of longing. it seemed like you were waiting for someone, and in their minds, that someone was lip gallagher. expectation hung in the air like a palpable thread, weaving through the dimly lit space as the night deepened.

as the door swung open, a collective breath held, only to release in a surprised murmur. it wasn't lip who stepped in, but carl, his presence strikingly magnetic. a slow grin curled on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the role he was about to play.

his entrance was like a bolt of electricity, charging the atmosphere with an undeniable energy. his eyes locked onto yours from across the room, a silent invitation that you couldn't resist. with a smirk, he made his way over, sliding onto the barstool beside you.

“looks like you really showed up,” he drawled, his tone dripping with flirtatious charm. you laughed, a mixture of amusement and anticipation. “you gave me a reason to.”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “good, because we've got shit in store for tonight.”

the double entendre hung in the air, and a shiver ran down your spine. “is that so?” you teased, meeting his gaze with a challenge. carl's hand found its way to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “absolutely, only if you can take it.” you and carl have known each other as long as you and lip have—as long as you and all the gallaghers have. granted, none of you were as close as you and lip were, but carl wanted nothing more than to form a close bond of hia own with you.

the playful glint in his eyes told you he had no intentions of keeping that promise. as the night wore on and drinks flowed, the conversation between you grew more intimate.

“you always knew how to keep things interesting,” you mused, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. carl's foot brushed against yours under the bar, a subtle touch that spoke volumes. “life's too short for anything less.”

the chemistry between you was undeniable, each word and gesture a part of an intricate dance. his laughter mixed with yours, creating a bubble of shared secrets and hidden desires.

leaning in, he whispered, “you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this.” your breath caught in your throat as his lips grazed your earlobe. “oh, really? and what exactly have you been looking forward to?”

carl's fingers traced a path along your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. ”getting to know you better. much, much better.“ the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. the bar seemed to fade away as the night deepened, leaving only the electric connection between you and him. the chemistry crackled, a tantalizing push and pull that was impossible to ignore. the bar buzzed with activity, but your focus was solely on each other. With every touch, every whispered promise, the tension between you grew, until it became a force that couldn't be contained.

when he took you home, everybody was asleep. everybody, except for lip, who was nowhere to be found. you chose not to ask questions and ignore the feeling that grew in your chest. you knew he was out elsewhere, possibly in someone else's bed, but you didn't care. why would you? you focused on carl, on the way you were straddling his lap on his bed, your bodies closer than ever. his fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle yet charged with an electric undercurrent. the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, but there was no need for explanations.

his breath mingled with yours, a rhythmic symphony that seemed to echo the racing of your hearts. the chemistry between you crackled like electricity, each touch igniting a wildfire that spread through every nerve ending. his lips brushed against yours, a soft tease that sent tremors of longing through you.

“you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky whisper that seemed to send vibrations straight to your core. a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “and what are you planning to do about it?”

carl's hands found their way to your hips, his touch possessive yet tender. “i think you already know,” he replied, his gaze holding a promise that was impossible to ignore. the barriers that had once separated you from this moment felt like distant memories. in the dim light, the layers of pretense were shed, leaving only raw desire and the unspoken connection that bound you together.

as your lips met in a hungry kiss, the world seemed to fall away. the sensation of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, a heady mixture of need and vulnerability. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as the kiss deepened, a silent exchange of emotions too complex to put into words.

in that moment, you chose to let go of the questions that had been nagging at the back of your mind. the feeling that had grown in your chest, a mixture of unease and longing, was pushed aside in favor of the intoxicating present. you straddled the line between reality and desire, a place where the only thing that mattered was the connection between you and him.

“you gallaghers sure know what you're doing,” you breathed out in exasperation. your body was pressed real tight against his, tits spilling out of the top of your dress against his chest—he couldn't look away. the bulge in his jeans rubbed against your lace panties from under your dress, soft moans leaving your mouths.

after the words left your mouth, he was quick to flip you over. “talking about lip, aren't you?” you couldn't form a response, only being able to nod as he kissed your neck. “he's a real cynic. forget about him, at least for tonight.”

it was easier said than done.

the first crack of dawn filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow across the room as you stirred from your sleep. you were naked next to carl, his arm placed messily against your tits due to the uncomfortable sleeping position. the hushed rustle of clothing and the creak of the bed were your attempt to leave without disturbing anyone, especially carl, but just as you were about to slip out, your heart stopped.

there, standing in the doorway, was lip, his eyes locked onto you with a mixture of shock and anger.

time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other, a tense silence enveloping the room. then, the dam broke, and lip's anger burst forth like a storm unleashed. his voice was a roar, laughter hysterical, his words a torrent of rage as he accused you of betraying him with his own brother.

“you really couldn't help yourself, could you?” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “fucking around with carl? are you that desperate?”

the accusation hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a fiery retort on your lips. “don't you dare act like you have any right to be angry, i get to fuck who i want, lip.”

the room became a battlefield, words like weapons as you hurled accusations at each other. the tension that had been building between you for so long finally exploded, the frustration and hurt pouring out in a torrent of anger. objects were knocked off surfaces, the crash of shattered glass punctuating the intensity of the argument. it filled you with fury, how he thought he had any right to be angry at you, despite your agreement.

lip's face contorted in a mix of disbelief and fury. “you think that gives you the right to fuck my brother? to act like nothing matters?”

“nothing does matter,” you yelled back, your voice laced with desperation. “we had an arrangement, lip, and you knew exactly what you were getting into. don't play the victim now.”

the fight raged on, a storm of emotions that neither of you could control. the boundaries you had carefully established had crumbled, leaving you both exposed and vulnerable. the accusations and hurtful words flew like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“whore around all you want,” his voice cracked as he spit the words out, right in your face. “just spread your poison somewhere else.”

eventually, the anger began to subside, replaced by a heavy silence. panting, your chests heaved as you glared at each other, the residue of the fight hanging in the air like a bitter taste. with a final, seething look, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, retreating from the chaos you had unleashed.

as you left the house and retreated back to the familiarity of your own space, a mix of emotions swirled within you. the confrontation had left scars, wounds that ran deeper than the surface. the lines had been crossed, the arrangement shattered, and the tangled mess of emotions was impossible to ignore.

the sun painted your room in gentle hues of gold as you slept, oblivious to the turmoil that had transpired the day before. unbeknownst to you, lip stood outside your window, a conflicted figure bathed in the soft light. the memory of you, peacefully asleep, stirred something within him, a mixture of regret and longing.

he knew he had to make things right. climbing onto the windowsill with a mix of determination and trepidation, he moved silently, careful not to wake you. his eyes lingered on your peaceful face, the lines of your features softened in slumber. his fingers traced the curve of your cheek, the touch featherlight as he stroked your skin. regret and tenderness intertwined as he watched you, his heart heavy with the weight of his emotions. he had to apologize, to make amends for the pain he had caused.

and then, your eyes fluttered open, startled by his presence. the initial confusion in your gaze gave way to surprise and a hint of vulnerability. before you could react, he spoke, his voice a quiet confession.

“i'm sorry,” he whispered, his gaze locked onto yours. “i let my jealousy get the best of me. it wasn't fair to you.”

the sincerity in his voice struck a chord within you, and as you took in his remorseful expression, the tension from the previous day seemed to fade away. you shifted in your bed, sitting up and giving him space to come in.

"i appreciate your honesty," you replied softly, your voice carrying a mix of caution and warmth. "but we can't keep going like this, lip. we need boundaries."

he nodded, understanding in his eyes. “you're right. i messed up, and i don't want to lose you.”

the vulnerability in his admission resonated with you, and you found yourself considering the possibility of something more. it was a risky leap, but the connection between you was undeniable.

with a determined glint in his eyes, lip reached out to take your hand. “i wanna try something different. something real. can we give this a shot?”

the air seemed to hang heavy with the weight of his question, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a genuine desire for change. a flicker of hope ignited within you, and you found yourself nodding slowly.

“let's take it one step at a time,” you replied, your voice steady. “but we need ground rules, lip. no more secrets, no more jealousy. just honesty.”

he nodded fervently, a renewed determination in his expression. and so, as the light bathed the room, you and lip embarked on a new chapter, one that held the promise of something deeper and more meaningful.

#shameless #lip gallagher #lip x reader #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher angst #lip gallagher fluff #carl gallagher x reader #carl x reader #carl gallagher #carl gallagher smut

[misshoneyimhome]

「2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION」

“Wait… you like me?” I Jack Hughes 2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣

Summary; In the world of hockey, you share a close friendship with Jack Hughes. Yet, as your feelings for him grow over time, you decide to keep them hidden. However, when fate suddenly pushes you to confront your emotions, will Jack risk your friendship for something more?

Tropes & warnings; friends to lovers; teasing/light bullying; some sort of sadness; hidden feelings; fear of one-sided love;

Other notes; so, I'm actually starting to find writing about this lad quite enjoyable; I mean, just take a look at him! He's absolutely adorable 🤗

Word count; 1.6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

You met Jack Hughes for the first time nearly a year after he was drafted, when you had just started working for the New Jersey Devils organization. You had volunteered for some unpaid media tasks, eager to establish yourself in the hockey community, which occasionally allowed you to get closer to the players. And already within your first few weeks at the hockey rink, Jack immediately noticed your curious and focused expression. Without even knowing why, he felt drawn to your shy smile and decided to strike up a conversation with you.

Although his high level of confidence initially took you by surprise, you were instantly charmed by his adorable smile and laughter. And with a combination of cheesy jokes, hockey references, and a playful sense of humour, Jack quickly grasped your deep love and passion for the sport, which only intrigued him further.

You had to admit, it felt as though your friendship blossomed out of nowhere. You bonded over analysing plays, discussing strategies, and the excitement of being part of the Devils' community. And being from the area yourself, you happily showed him around, unveiling all the hidden treasures unknown to many, as you got to know each other on deeper levels.

Jack couldn’t help but admire your dedication and knowledge of hockey, finding your passion for the sport captivating – much like his own. He appreciated how you cheered him on from the side lines, occasionally donning his jersey, and noticed your unwavering commitment to following the team whenever possible.

Yet, as your friendship gradually deepened over the following years, you couldn't deny that you found yourself relishing the time spent with him more and more. His infectious boyish smile, his amusing Florida accent, and his genuine kindness all contributed to making you feel at ease whenever you were in his presence. And as you both transitioned into adulthood, you felt yourself slowly developing deeper emotions for him.

However, you kept these feelings concealed, fearing the potential risk to your friendship. Moreover, you couldn't shake the belief that Jack was entirely out of your league. He was talented, charismatic, and had a magnetic personality that drew people to him. All the girls who pursued him exuded glamour and confidence, and you couldn't help but feel like you didn't measure up.

But though you didn't align with the same interests as those girls – preferring quiet evenings discussing hockey stats over amazing dinners – Jack valued your genuine calm and laid-back demeanour. He appreciated your dedication to your work and simply relished spending time with you, whether engaged in hockey conversations or simply enjoying each other's company.

And despite your insecurities, you treasured your friendship with Jack as well, grateful for the connection you shared. You simply never entertained the thought that he could view you as anything beyond a friend. Thus, you chose to keep your feelings hidden, content with enjoying his company and offering support in any way possible.

**

However, on one fateful night, fate seemed to conspire against you.

As the arena hummed with excitement, the New Jersey Devils celebrated yet another hard-earned victory over their rivals. Amidst a sea of cheering fans, you stood, passionately supporting the team you had grown to adore, as the energy was palpable, and the jubilation of the win filled the air.

And following the game, you found yourself in the company of Jack and several other members of the Devils organization. However, as you shared laughter and conversation, revelling in the triumph, the discussion suddenly took an unexpected turn.

The girls in the group began to tease you in a playful manner about your close friendship with Jack, their words carrying a mischievous undertone. Initially, it was light-hearted banter, harmless jests exchanged among friends. However, their teasing gradually veered towards a more pointed direction, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks with embarrassment.

"I swear, y/n, every time Jack scores a goal, you look at him as though he's the only person in the room," one of the girls teased, nudging you with her elbow.

And then another girl joined in, her laughter resonating through the air. "Yeah, it's as if you're completely smitten with him or something."

You attempted to shrug off their remarks with a nervous chuckle, but instead, it only seemed to encourage their teasing further.

"I think she might actually have a bit of a crush on him," one of them remarked, her tone laced with mock seriousness.

And then the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt your cheeks flushing even warmer. No matter how hard you tried to conceal it, you couldn't deny the truth in their words.

"Oh my gosh! She does... y/n's got a thing for Jack Hughes, how adorable," the first girl exclaimed, her laughter ringing through the hallway.

And nable to bear the embarrassment any longer, you hastily excused yourself from the group, muttering something about needing to freshen up. You spun on your heel and hurried away, seeking to put as much distance between yourself and the teasing girls as possible.

"Wait, y/n, hold on," Jack called out to you, his voice gentle but insistent.

But just as you thought you had managed to escape, you felt a gentle hand on your arm, halting your retreat. Turning around, you were met with Jack's concerned gaze, his expression soft yet urgent. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye, the embarrassment still blazing hot on your cheeks.

"Y/n, don't walk away like that..." Jack pleaded, his grip tightening around your arm.

"Please, Jack," you attempted to shake him off, your voice barely audible. "I just want to go home, okay? You can just go back to your friends."

"What, no,” Jack's voice betrayed confusion and concern. "I'm not done talking to you."

You sighed, giving in slightly, pulling your hand to cross your arms across your chest. "Fine, then let’s talk?"

"I want to know about what they were saying back there," he said, his tone grave.

You bit your lip, feeling the blush returning to your cheeks, your arms tucking yourself tightly in a defence. "It's nothing, just silly chatter among girls."

Jack shook his head, his brows knitting together. "It didn't sound like nothing. They were discussing you and me, weren't they?"

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "They... they were just teasing. It's not important." You tried to force a light chuckle, but your heavy breaths failed you. 

"Y/n," Jack said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine. “Talk to me.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you struggled to find the right words, tears pressing on, yet you managed to hold them back. "I... Jack, I..."

He lifted your chin gently, compelling you to meet his gaze. "Wait... you like me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his stare. "Yes," you admitted quietly. "But I understand if you don't feel the same way. I mean, look at me, I'm nothing like the girls you're used to..."

Jack's expression softened; his thumb moving to trace gentle circles on your cheek. "Y/n, I don’t want you to be like those girls. You're not like anyone else I know. And that's what I like about you. You're passionate, driven, and you love hockey just as much as I do. You're not just some random girl to me, you're my best friend."

Tears welled up in your eyes, overwhelmed by his words. "But what about those other girls? The ones who are always around you, the ones who..."

"They mean nothing to me," Jack interrupted, his voice firm. "The only person I care about is you."

You searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and warmth reflected back at you. And in that moment, you realized that there was a chance that everything was about to change.

"Jack," you whispered. "I like you. More than just a best friend."

A smile spread across Jack's face, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. As you melted into his embrace, you couldn't help but think that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the start of something truly special.

And in that tender moment when Jack's lips met yours, all your worries and insecurities seemed to slowly dissolve. There was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace.

You leaned into the kiss, relishing the sensation of Jack's lips against yours, his gentle touch sending shivers down your spine. It felt like a dream come true, something you had only dared to imagine in your wildest fantasies.

And as the kiss deepened, you were swept away by a rush of emotions – joy, relief, and an overwhelming sense of love. It was surreal to believe that Jack felt the same way about you, that he saw you as more than just a friend.

Then breaking away from the kiss, he looked into your eyes with a soft smile. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice brimming with sincerity.

And you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a wave of happiness wash over you. "Me too," you whispered, your heart overflowing with love for the man standing before you.

In that moment, everything felt perfect – the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other's embrace.

"So, you like me too, huh?" You chuckled lightly, breaking the silence that enveloped you.

"Yeah, probably have for a while…" Jack's admission was timid, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

"You should’ve said something," you spoke almost nervously, feeling a little ridiculous for not having had the courage to speak up sooner.

"Sorry, I was afraid you didn’t feel the same…" Jack's words were filled with regret.

You couldn't suppress a light laughter, the tension dissipating. "Jack, how could I not feel the same? Everyone likes you."

"Told you, to me you’re different. But I’m just happy that you do like me… because I’m crazy about you," Jack confessed, his words filled with sincerity and warmth.

And with another kiss, you sealed the newfound relationship, the warmth of it echoing the promise of a future filled with love and happiness.

#2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ followers celebration #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

[luveline]

Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D

steve zombie!au fem. 1k

You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less. 

"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust. 

He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed. 

But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks. 

"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later." 

He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous.  "He's so nice," you say. 

"No, he's not." 

"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something." 

"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy." 

"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds. 

"I'm actually making myself feel sick." 

"I can wear a different coat if it–" 

"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks." 

"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?" 

"I'm good with the kids." 

"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone." 

"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say." 

You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you." 

Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure. 

"First, underwear." 

"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much." 

"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself. 

"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks. 

You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?" 

"I wanna smoke these so bad." 

You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings." 

"Weirdo." 

You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.

Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.

You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off. 

You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind. 

Apparently, it's been on yours.

"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."

Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose. 

He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth. 

"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again." 

"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go." 

"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted. 

Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy. 

It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[skogjeger]

Candles' Colours & Associations ❁ཻུ۪۪ ━ 

‧₊˚.  : · •.  * • ˚   . · * ✶   : · •  *   ˚ ✵

Candle magic, often referred to as "magick" (a common alternate spelling), offers an accessible and budget-friendly approach to spiritual practices. For centuries, people have incorporated candle rituals into their spiritual routines, making it an integral part of diverse traditions. Candles play a versatile role in various occasions like weddings, birthdays, spells, honouring deities and numerous other celebrations and rituals.

𖤣𖥧˚ Candle Colour Associations

Each candle colour is associated with distinct energies, intentions, and vibrations. Understanding these associations is essential for crafting meaningful candle rituals. Candles add rather than subtract to your spells, although candles aren't always necessary and you can use any candle and associate your own meanings for them, but here are some common candle colour associations:

White: Purity, spirituality, banishing, cleansing, unveiling, healing, truth, balance, innocence, clarity, peace, new beginnings, and illumination. It represents divine light and is often used for cleansing and invoking spiritual protection.

Red: Passion, love, courage, fire, lust, anger, revenge, sex, power, survival, change, action, assertiveness, and strength. Red candles are employed for matters of the heart, to enhance energy, and ignite motivation.

Orange: Success, enthusiasm, curiosity, change, opportunities, simulation, courage, and attraction. Orange candles are used to stimulate creativity and bring positive energy into endeavors.

Yellow: Creativity, joy, motivation, positivity, relieving negativity, energy, happiness, and clarity. Yellow candles can enhance mental clarity, increase focus, and bring a sense of joy and optimism.

Green: Growth, abundance, fertility, wealth, nature, naivety, healing, and prosperity. Green candles are used for attracting financial well-being and promoting healing and renewal.

Blue: Peace, healing, recollection, psychic growth, justice, study, mental blocks, guidance, calm, honesty, harmony, intuition, and communication. Blue candles aid in deepening meditation, enhancing psychic abilities, and fostering emotional balance.

Purple: Spirituality, wisdom, divination, and higher consciousness. Purple candles are associated with spiritual awakening and seeking inner wisdom.

Pink: Love (self-love), friendship, nurturing, and harmony. Pink candles are often used in rituals focused on self-love, compassion, and nurturing relationships.

Grey: Transmutation, patience, mediating, neutralizing, balance, stability, study, calm, balance, developing psychic abilities, and wisdom. Grey candles are useful when contemplating complex issues and can neutralize negative influences.

Brown: Wisdom, grounding, tenacity, perseverance, stability, rooted, security, woods, family, animals, pets, earth, material items, practicality, rediscovery, reconnection, and balance. Brown candles serve a dual purpose: safeguarding pets and family members, as well as facilitating reconnection with friends and loved ones.

Black: Protection, banishing, endings, absorbing, safety, binding, exorcism, release, death, healing, loss, and releasing negativity. Black candles are used for purification and breaking negative patterns. Some people will also use black candles for revenge spells (white too) or breaking hexes.

𖤣𖥧˚ Metallic Candle Colour Associations

Gold: Abundance, wealth, spiritual illumination, success, good fortune, happiness, ambition, luck, and the sun. Gold candles are used to invoke prosperity, celebrate achievements, and attract positive energies.

Silver: Intuition, self-reflection, perception, awareness, defend, send-back energy, protection, and emotional balance. Silver candles are employed for enhancing psychic abilities, connecting with lunar energies, and invoking the divine feminine.

Copper: Healing, vitality, emotions, autumn, new ideas, relaxation, combining, coming together, and energy balancing. Copper candles are utilized to promote physical healing, boost energy levels, and restore equilibrium.

Bronze: Grounding, strength, autumn, foundation, and courage. Bronze candles are associated with stability, courage, and protection during challenging times.

Final ❁ཻུ۪۪ ━

‧₊˚.  : · •.  * • ˚   . · * ✶   : · •  *   ˚ ✵

Feel free to reach out to me if you're interested in exploring different candle colours or their associations. You can send me a message directly, drop a note in my inbox, or share your thoughts in the comments, and I'll be happy to expand on the topic!

#paganblr #candles #candle associations #candle magic #magick #witchblr #spells #candle colours #beginner witch #pagan #eclectic witch #eclectic pagan #pagan blog #witch blog #spirituality #paganism #witch community #pagan community #meanings & associations

[bakedbananners]

Intimacy

[ID: art of Alex Fierro inspired by Thomas Blackshear's "Intimacy". He is standing, wearing a magenta robe covered in bright yellow shapes. Alex pulls apart the robe to show his chest, bright and glowing with light. In one hand he is holding a Tlatilco duality mask against the side of his face, covering one eye. On the same arm is a snake-like bangle. He is wearing a filigrana necklace with a milagro corazon attached, and a hoop earring with two long ribbons attached. His dark curly hair flows upwards. Behind him, to the left is a dark starry sky, with three floating pink masks hovering and looking down spitefully. To the right is are bright green small hills dotted with multicolored flowers. End ID.]

(more info in readmore!)

I decided to do a redraw inspired by Thomas Blackshear’s “Intimacy”. The original work shows a woman holding a mask while unveiling her body which is emitting a bright light. It is an interesting piece about how people wear masks to hide their true self, which is shown through the body.

I felt this work really fit Alex’s character, both through the overt symbols and the underlying themes. She is all about being a contradiction, dichotomy, and paradox.

I decided to alter some symbols, wanting to display her dual heritage of both Norse and Mexican descent and the spirituality associated with both. The mask she wears is a Tlatilco duality mask, she pears through the skull-like dead eye, conveying that she herself is dead yet alive. Her necklace has a corazon milagro on it, a strong symbol of Mexican spirituality and its combination of both Christian and Indigenous beliefs. It is meant to represent good luck and faith, with ties to Christ who is often shown with a fiery heart within his chest. In my reinterpretation, the bright light in her chest takes a new dimension of meaning- as she is literally her entire soul rather than human anymore.

The winding bracelet on her arm is of the Urnes snakes. It being on the same arm she holds up the mask connects the two accessories and their meanings physically. The masks that peer over her shoulder are meant to represent Norse masks, the way her mother Loki is always observing her. I altered some of the colors to be brighter neon pinks and greens because those are her trademark colors.

This redrawing is also meant to be inherently queer. The original shows a cisheteronormative portrayal of a feminine body. Here, though, Alex is transfeminine, displaying a transgender body. This also connects her genderqueer self with the divine and beautiful, as it also is in canon (through Magnus’ narration).

Ok, thank u for reading! :D this was very fun to do! I’m quite proud of it lol :3

#alex fierro #magnus chase #mcga #fierrochase #pjo #percy jackson #riordanverse #genderfluid #transgender #trans art #thomas blackshear #my art

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Vampire's Kiss | Chapter One

Pairing | Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, hate and prejudice about vampires, mentions of blood and sex

⤷ Summary | Humans have finally unveiled and accepted the centuries-old existence of vampires, in a modern world people share their lives with these peculiar and mysterious creatures, but it is not all roses.

Will two souls belonging to such different species be able to be together?

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! ❤️ This is the first chapter of Vampire's Kiss, please let me know if you like the story, it would be really good for me! 🥰💜

Taglist: @katherine-kookie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Next

"Do you know what happens when a vampire invites you out?" You roll your eyes, aware that Mirae is not yet finished with her rant, "Let's hear it, what?" "You never come home and are found in a forest, hanging from a tree, drained," was her solemn reply, she looks at you with stern eyes from behind the thick lenses of her glasses, you smile at her vivid imagination. "Sis, you know that we now live in a society where vampires are accepted by everyone and drink only donated blood, yes?" her frown if possible deepens more. Vampires for a few years now have been leading a healthy lifestyle for everyone, they no longer attack the living, and to have more control over their actions the government sends to their homes every two weeks a bag of blood from the donor they have chosen based on blood type, otherwise they can support themselves by eating the same food as humans, especially undercooked meat. It came to such a condition after all the bloody clashes that took place, both humans and vampires found themselves tired of fearing they would not make it to the next day, so the current arrangement had been arrived at that allows you to coexist without too many problems. Unfortunately, there is always someone who does not accept the new way of life, and your younger sister is one of those someone, she does not trust vampires.

"They're just waiting to come back as strong as they used to be, then they'll start to see us as tasty blood bags again," she hisses, glancing evilly at the page you opened from the PC. This is a dating site for vampires, from which many mixed couples have also sprung. Your best friend for example was happily married last year to her boyfriend, a vampire she met through this very site. You've met him, Shawn is just the sweetest guy and doesn't deserve the derogatory designation of "bloodsucker," as Mirae enjoys calling him instead whenever your best friend video chats with you and is with him. "You hang out too much with those extremist freaks on campus," you look at her harshly; she had joined a crazy group two years ago where they preach hatred of vampires, and she has totally changed since then. She is young and easy to be influenced, you just hope she doesn't go too far. You've tried to convince her to drop that subspecies of a cult, but her crush on the Leader of the Muggles is stronger than common sense, "And now I'd like some privacy!" "I don't want a vampire brother-in-law, I'll never accept that!" she exclaims in turn, before walking out slamming the door to your room, you feel the strong urge to yell insults at her, but you restrain the urge and refocus on the still active web page.

Many faces are silently watching you, and there's no denying that each one is fascinating in its own way, but you don't feel any chemistry, nothing that makes you say, "That's him!" so you go on searching for at least another hour, but still nothing. You could simplify things, date human guys who would surely be easier to find around, after all you've already done that and had a great time, but there's something about the idea of getting bitten that appeals to you. You've read around that vampires like to consume blood during sex, this happens mostly between couples, at that moment it's not just feeding, it's a kind of connection that goes on on both sides, a level of intimacy that provides an almost painful pleasure, you definitely want to try it to satiate your curiosity, and maybe you'll even find the right man for you. Ellen, your best friend, even hinted at some things, but she never went further with the details because it is something too personal to tell, she didn't even explain to you how she - human girl - shared the experience with her boyfriend, since then your brain has never stopped thinking about it for a moment.

You wearily squint your eyes deciding to end your search for the time being, you are tired and certainly cannot waste any more precious hours of rest, your job as an assistant is hell, especially when you have a disgusting caricature of a menstruating man for a boss. "Honey, it's ready!" you hear your mother shout from the kitchen. You haven't lived with your parents for a long time, but every now and then you take a little break to visit them, the only bad thing about these meetings is your younger sister of course. You put on your shoes and walk to your bedroom door, heading to the kitchen, where you find your mother preparing dishes for her meat and potato stew, your mouth is already watering! "Mom..." you look at her with affection, you adore your mom, she cooks like a god and is always understanding, the sweet woman who raised you always knew what to say at the right time and also knew how to measure her words, unlike your father who is a little more like Mirae character-wise.

"Take a seat, come on! Otherwise the food will get cold," she says kindly, patting you lightly on the back, you follow her order and sit to the right of your father, who is staring at the television with a grim expression, his reading glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose, almost following his mood. "Something wrong, dad?" "Another dead body, this time a man at a gas station, not a trace of blood in his body... not a drop," he mutters, you tighten your lips. You know what he'll say next, he doesn't trust vampires. "You know they're not all the same, dad... Tomorrow you'll hear about a human man who killed his employer, don't forget that our kind commits evil deeds too." "But our government helps them! They want live prey, not a sterile bag!" you try to reply, but promptly Mirae comes to her father's aid in his words, contributing to that stifling closed-mindedness. "Dad's convinced too, see?" your sister raises her nose up in a saccharine manner and your stomach clenches, suddenly losing your appetite. Your mother arrives at that moment with steaming plates in the tray, you sigh intercepting her glance, and yes, maybe in such cases it's better not to say anything else.

"You sent the message to Park Jimin, yes? The one where I ask him if he can ask his boss to agree to a dinner to get us on the same page regarding the compatibility of our companies, yes?" You stare at your boss's sweaty face with a smile, even though inside you are screaming. Maybe it's middle age or the fact that his wife left him demanding maintenance, the fact is that he has become more paranoid and oppressive over the past year. "Mr. Kim, I have already contacted Park Jimin and he indicated that he would give me an answer shortly," the man nods, relaxing a bit. The life of the company depends on this agreement, you know. If Kim Seokjin had incorporated your boss's small business then it would have saved you from the broken bank, and as a result your salary would have been even more substantial, but you don't put much hope in that. As mentioned, you are on the brink of the broken bank, which means your efforts do not pay off, so why should Kim Seokjin accept it? In the company where you work you are a bunch of suburban writers and journalists, your magazine is old stuff now. The only way to save everything is to assign you to something else, something your boss evidently never thought of in order to get you up and running again.

"... - it's a crazy thing that a vampire would go to such lengths!" the old man finishes, you realize you haven't been listening to anything at all, but from the last sentence you got the gist of it.

Yes, Kim Seokjin is a vampire, and yes, he goes out in the daytime to have his picture taken with yet another model hanging on his arm.

Vampires can be in daylight, the sun gives them mild eye irritation, which is why - particularly in summer - they use sunglasses, but otherwise no problem, they live like normal humans, just with a little more sunscreen.

And your boss is tremendously envious of all that is Kim Seokjin.

But if you want to hold on to your job you need to talk to Jimin, you've known him since college, he was dating one of your friends at the time and fit in very well in your friendship group, despite being the only non-human present, even when he broke up with your friend he made it clear that he wanted to remain your friend, but you didn't see each other as often as you would have liked.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" you almost jump out of your chair at the lighthearted voice of your colleague, Valentine.

You cast her a suspicious look, "What do you mean?"

Her pretty face breaks into a wide grin, but to you it was like seeing a fox sneer.

"That dating site, right? Vampire's Kiss! Do you know they even made an app out of it? That Kim Seokjin is really a monster of genius."

"Kim Seokjin?" you ask with confusion, has he now also put his hand in the area that was in charge of relationships? Your colleague squints.

"You've been visiting Vampire's Kiss for a week and never wondered who came up with it and put it within everyone's reach?" you arch an eyebrow, of course you didn't know, you're interested in more than just that site! Users signing up for example, not its developer, "Ah! Forget it, just answer me!"

The temptation to tell her to go to hell makes your lips tingle, but you finally respond with a polite smile.

"I haven't found anything yet, actually."

"Take any one, they're all the same."

You widen your eyes, "How?"

Valentine moves her hand hastily, "Vampires, they're all the same! Take any one for experience, they all have the characteristics we're looking for," she says, as if it were obvious you were looking for someone just for fun and nothing else.

But you are not like that, you have enough failed relationships behind you precisely because every one of your partners was looking for that, fun. And you're fed up, you want a healthy, real relationship, not something to try one night stands.

"I don't want just anybody, and I'm not just talking about sex... I'm looking for a relationship actually."

Without warning she bursts out laughing, soundly even. Gritting your teeth, unnerved by her behavior, she recovers for a moment wiping away imaginary tears, "You can't be serious! Vampires were not created for humans, they don't see life the way we do, the most we can do with them is to experience some fun things, but then each to their own way," she says using a cute tone, as if she's looking at a little girl who lives on dreams.

"I'm happy to see things differently from you," after answering her that way you go back to your horrible job, earning a resentful look from her.

"Look it's not just me saying this, a friend of mine recently broke up with one of those guys there, she got dumped" she mutters, you sigh.

"Has the thought ever crossed your mind that we are not all the same? You don't have to rely on other people's experiences, start making your own instead."

Maybe you've been too harsh, so you turn to apologize to her, well, you're sorry you used a brusque tone just because you don't like her way of thinking, but you catch her fixing her lipstick quietly, even sending a flying kiss to her own reflection, you narrow your eyes and refuse to talk to her again. You have better things to do than to listen to ignorant, self-absorbed people.

You rather concentrate on the speech you are writing for your boss, it must be ready before 3 p.m. and without that he would not have been able to say a single word during the meeting with the employees. How such a man has managed to run the show so far you still cannot understand, the secretary before you must have been a saint.

"Ah, Yoongyu asked me how things are going for you here in the office, if you're finally getting along well," Valentine casts you a mischievous glance, "Have you two been getting very close lately?"

More than you can brag about.

You shared a brief but intense acquaintance with Yoongyu on the physical plane. You both had a good time, you were the newcomer and he was the director of the company, he was second only to the CEO so you were totally reliant on his guidance, and just in one of those moments where you felt totally lost at work, he asked you out to dinner. You accepted without a second thought, you liked him, he had subtle dark fox eyes and a charming smile, but your relationship didn't last long. You wanted different things, you a stable relationship and he just a friend to share the intimate sides of a relationship with.

Things were over rather quickly, and now you were enjoying a good friendship.

"We're friends, that's all," she rolled her eyes, as if she believed very little of your words.

"Listen to me, give up your vampire hunting, Van Helsing and find an easy romance to live with."

You don't answer her, the vibration of a new message teases your attention, and you pick up the phone.

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Baby, are you there? 🥺

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You smile spontaneously once you read the sender, Jimin writes to you often using that term, he always treats you like a little sister and for that you are grateful, he is one of your best friends and maybe that is the very reason why you can see vampires as to normal people, just like you.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Does my lovely vampire

needs a hand?

🥰

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

I always need a hand, baby 😏

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You roll your eyes and take care to point it out, always without stopping giggling. An outside person would have found your chat wacky, you are not together and yet you allow yourselves to flirt a little playfully, but you both know that there would only be mutual affection between you and nothing more driven.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ouch!

That's how you hurt me 😥

But okay though, don't get mad....

But I would need you to do me a favor 💜

Meet me downtown for coffee?

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You cannot deny him help; you know it as well as he knows it.

From: You.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mh. Okay.

What time? A suitable time for me.

Possibly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Sweet Jimin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You are my angel!

Later around 5pm would be perfect!

I love you, baby ❤

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It would have been nice to find someone to chat with using lots of adorable emoji, someone to call "boyfriend" while smiling like a fool.

You tighten your lips, Jimin always gives you too much hope, he is adorable and always expresses himself sweetly to you, who are a loser to the fullest extent. Consequently, you always think that if someone like Jimin loves you, why shouldn't you hope for more? That's what always rubs you the wrong way.

You are both sitting comfortably outside the café, Jimin sips his coffee absentmindedly, you have chosen a milkshake with chocolate and hazelnut.

You see him search his pocket for something and once he finds it he lays it on the coffee table, it is a completely black bottle with an airtight cap, you raise an eyebrow in his direction and he smiles at you with one corner of his mouth slightly more raised than the other.

"Ever seen a vampire correcting his coffee?" he asks amused, you simply shake your head.

"You are the only vampire I have relations with and you have never done so in my presence."

He tightens his lips and pours a generous dose of the scarlet liquid into his cup, the action doesn't bother you all that much ... but it leaves you intrigued.

"I need it to calm me down a bit, the last period hasn't exactly been the best."

Now that you get a better look at him, his usually pinker lips are now tending to pale, as if he has stopped hydrating, and his eyes are more glazed over.

"Not getting enough rest, Jimin?" but he denies it with his head.

"Problems with my parents, actually ... That's why I need your help."

A shiver goes down your spine, you know Jimin's parents, they are very stiff and composed vampires, the one time they saw you, they didn't look very happy.

"Jimin, I don't think your family likes me," you flinch uncomfortably, the boy immediately takes your hand, there is panic in his eyes.

"Please, I wouldn't ask you if it was just a trifle! You can save me."

You stand for a moment shocked by the desperation in his voice, even his magnificent dark eyes shine in despair.

You take a deep breath, already knowing that you will regret everything.

"Okay...but remember that you have to help me with the matter of my company, I risk losing my job without the agreement, Jimin."

He nods, "Jin is a very good friend of mine, I'll take care of it."

"I don't know what I'll have to help you with, I just hope I don't end up bleeding to death or worse," you say jokingly, but when he doesn't return your laughter your heart tightens.

His grip on your hand strengthens, "I won't let anything happen to you, baby."

The fact that he did not deny those possibilities unnerves you and not a little, what are you getting yourself into? Jimin has been in the world longer than most humans, so why the hell would he need the help of a mere human like you?

You bite your lip absentmindedly, maybe you're just wrapping your head around it before you break it.

"All right, but could you inform me?"

The boy takes a breath, "My parents are peculiar, old-fashioned dare I say it... they come from an era when arranged marriages flourished like chocolates in a chocolate factory, and now that I have reached a high level in business, they demand that I marry and in truth they have already chosen for me," he begins to explain, as he speaks your mouth opens wide, "But I already have a girlfriend and I love her! She is a vampire, but she doesn't boast a rich family like mine, so they immediately set her aside in favor of a woman I know, but I don't like her."

And again... what exactly can you help with?

"Jimin, I still don't understand... how am I supposed to help you?"

"Jin is throwing a party to announce his official engagement, what I ask is for you to pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents."

It's official, you need an ambulance. And urgently, too.

"Y-You are crazy! Your parents hate me just because I breathe their own oxygen, how can you propose such a thing to me! Besides, don't you already have a girlfriend? Use her!"

Okay, you're panicking and you see the corners of your vision darkening, you need to calm down. Jimin gets up and waves to a waiter to bring some water, then tries to take your hand back, but you escape from his grasp.

"Honey, calm down ... the thing is ... I'm sorry to tell you like this," he babbles, you shake your head quickly and try to stand up, but his hands go to rest on your shoulders, consequently pushing you back into the chair, "My parents can't stand humans, to them they reflect the worst of the worst!" he blurts out, and you shoot lightning and thunderbolts from your eyes.

"Exactly, you idiot!"

"That's why you're perfect! If I introduced you to everyone as my girlfriend, threatening to marry you in front of all the other vampires -- at the cost of losing my inheritance -- my parents would start reconsidering my real girlfriend to avoid the scandal of such a statement! Between a human and a vampire of humble origins, who would be the lesser evil for them?"

You bite your lips harder and when the water comes, you begin to drink it quickly.

Unfortunately, the reasoning squares all too well, Jimin is an only child and the Parks cannot afford to lose him, they would never accept a vampire girl of impure blood and even penniless, but a human is something intolerable for vampires like them.

"To say in front of the elders that you will marry a human woman would be ... a disgrace, and would cast shame on your family, who to avoid this ... outburst of yours,  would immediately accept the other option through this blackmail of yours," you murmur with your heart in your throat, Jimin nods slowly.

"They don't mind if I 'use' human women for sex, as long as they don't go to taint our bloodline."

You close your eyes, undecided about what to do.

You're fucking scared, his parents creep you out, but it's Jimin. With your heart clenched in a vice, you nod.

"It's just one night, right?"

"Just one," he assures you.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fiction #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #vampire jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts vampire au #bts smut fanfiction #bts smut #bts fanfiction smut #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #vampire bts #bts ff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut

[keystonepublishing]

The Saga of Hermitcraft on r/Place (1 April 2022 - 4 April 2022)

On the 1st of April 2022, Reddit unveiled a white blank canvas where every user had the ability to place one colored pixel in every 5 minutes. At its height, about 4 million people participated in one of the biggest internet collaborations ever made. The ripple effects reverberated into news reports as far away as Turkey, and the final canvas represents a snapshot of the multiple communities, events, memes, and what was popular around the world at that time.

This is a documentation of the Hermitcraft mural on r/place 2022.

aka.

Remember what I said about my latest ficbind being a distraction? This is what I wanted to be distracted from.

After Reddit's API fiasco of this year and the subsequent controversial event that was r/place 2023, I decided to save as much documentation about the 2022 event as I could. Luckily, I remember how there are already a series of posts by @riacte who documented the progress of the Hermitcraft mural throughout the whole event, from beginning to end. Her blogposts form the bulk of this book (like, 95%!) and I cannot thank her enough for preserving the happenings of the block men mural.

With that said, I quickly realized that someone who's not a Hermitcraft fan - or me if I'm older - might not get the gist of who's who on the mural. The solution? Make several pages dedicated to just listing who's who on the murals! Because of the sheer number of heads, the mural was divided into several pieces for easier labeling. As a bonus, I also threw in another mural nearby which was connected enough to the Hermitcraft community.

For consistency's sake and preserving focus, I decided to not label the peeps from Dream SMP or the MCC secondary mural. Wrangling Microsoft Word to create an infographic was hard enough, let alone 3! If I inadvertently left out a few bits of extra context from this decision, mea culpa.

When it came to typesetting the entire text block, I decided to make some consistent rules. Titles denoting each day or stage of the mural are on their own pages. New sections are titled using the Bahnschrift font and colored blue, while the first paragraph has their beginning lines look Minecraft-coded and topped with a drop cap (aka. those super-large alphabets).

The names of Hermitcraft and Minecraft players in general are bolded when they first appear in the text. Afterwards, they are bolded if they are contextually important to what's being said.

Extra context would be placed in the footnotes section at the bottom of the page. This is also where I dump some background information that would be invaluable for any readers who aren't Minecraft fans, which is why the SpaceX page looked like... uh, that.

My image policy is to go with the flow; I used as many images from riacte's posts as possible, but I also added-in some of my own if more context is needed. Placing them to look smooth with the text was harder - some are small enough to not cause any problems, others are large enough to fill entire pages without any problems, but a few like the Dream SMP mural (hey there! I managed to put you in!) are too wonky to fit perfectly without leaving no empty spaces.

So in that mural's case, I placed them to the side and let the contextual text flow around it. This principle was also used for the Dota2 / Love Live images and in a few other places throughout the book. The biggest case of this are the few images that are just too wide.

Like this one.

Making double-page spreads is not the easiest thing to do in Microsoft Word, and there are a few r/place images that are too wide to fit perfectly in a single page. Confining them to one page would also mean losing all their details, so making them a double-page spread was necessary.

Didn't make it easy though, especially when there are paragraphs of text and other images that needed to be shuffled around. Mess up the double-page images, and they won't meet in the middle. Mess up the text and other pics? There goes the layout and overall flow!

In the end, making this book took a lot longer than I expected, but I am still grateful to have made this as I have now read through many posts from Tumblr, Reddit, and even Youtube - people expressing joy that they have collectively made something together. I can only hope I have made some justice to them by compiling their work and (even if a small sliver) preserving their testaments.

May this r/place be remembered.

#r/place #rplace #Hermitcraft #reddit #MCYT #rplace 2022 #r/place 2022 #bookbinding #fanbinding #documentation #my bookbinds #hermitblr

[evelightnavi]

"Shared Serenity"

♤ Featuring: Neteyam x Female Omatikaya Reader

♤ Summary: In a dense forest, Neteyam searches for you, failing to spot your concealed position high above. As he uncovers your whereabouts, a playful exchange leads to a chase until an unexpected fall down a hidden slope bonds you both in a moment of exhilaration and concern. Amidst the adrenaline rush and laughter, a serene moment under the trees unveils unspoken admiration, strengthening the connection between you two future leaders from separate Omaticaya villages.

♤ Word count: 1.4k

♢ I'm Evelight_Navi on wattpad, this is part of my one shot collection.

♢♢----------------------♢♢

"Show yourself. I know you're watching me." Neteyam said as he looked around. He was trying to find you. The forest was denser here compared to the area surrounding his village. As the flowers and plants clung tightly to the thick branches, it became challenging to find anything specific. Even finding a clear path would seem challenging if you didn't know this part of the forest. Neteyam's eyes scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of your familiar posture. Ever since Neteyam arrived, you remained completely still, not moving an inch. You did your best to avoid being spotted by the boy below you.

You watched as his eyes scanned the area, aware you were more likely to hide higher up. His eyes even glanced over your body, completely failing to notice you as he searched higher. You noticed the boy below you looking particular good today. The sunlight streaming over his face and shoulders cast a gentle glow, almost making his skin sparle in the sunlight. You were certain you saw a new bead woven into his hair as he swayed his head to the right. Both of you were growing up rapidly, growing more mature every encounter you had. Both of you noticed that you were coming of age, but this all was still faster than anticipated.

"I can see you!" Neteyam yelled out, unable to locate your familiar posture despite sensing your presence nearby. He couldn't pinpoint your exact location. This frustrated him a bit, as one of the youngest and most skilled hunters in his village, unable to outsmart you. It heightened his desire for you even more. From the day you first met, he considered you a perfect match. However, over the passing years, he observed your exceptional intelligence. A woman who could outsmart him was something he had only dreamt about before.

"How could you see me?" You questioned, maintaining your hidden position. His eyes darted to the general direction of your voice. You managed to suppress your laughter as he still wasn't able to pinpoint your location. You swayed your tail, hoping to make it easier for him to spot you. His eyes trailed along your tail, moving up your body until they reached your face. You stood in the shadows, giving you a mysterious glow, but your face remained partially concealed, not fully visible. You slowly made your way down, so you would need to keep looking down at him.

"I couldn't, but I sensed you." Neteyam stated as you moved out of the shadows, now fully visible. You were tempted to express that it wasn't fair but choose to stay silent instead. Considering the time it took him to find you, with your help, of course. "You know, the Tsahik should be skilled at more than just hiding." Neteyam remarked as you were now standing in front of him. He wanted to see how you reacted on that title, curious about your feelings regarding it.

"Future tsahik." You replied, rolling your eyes in response. "You just don't know the other things I'm capable of." In reality, Neteyam didn't know. Although both of you were Omaticaya, you weren't from the same village. Neteyam was the future Olo'eyktan of his village, and you were the future Tsahik of yours. The only you two had was when both of you had time to come to the forest away from both of your villages. Whenever you were together, both of you were yourselves, setting aside the roles of being the future leaders of your villages.

"And you don't know what I'm capable of." Neteyam said as a grin slowly formed on his face. You recognized that look, and it signaled trouble. As you saw his posture shift into an attack stance, you swiftly turned around and ran away, leaving him behind. However, it wasn't for long, as you could hear him running after you. "I'm going to catch you!" You heard him yell, prompting you to burst out laughing. While Neteyam might have been faster than you, you were more familiar with the dense forest, giving you a slight advantage.

You slowed down after a while, noticing the absence of his footsteps behind you. With slightly heavier breathing, you turned around to look, but Neteyam was nowhere to be seen. His unexpected disappearance confused you, as it had never happened before. Proceeding cautiously, you took a step forward, attempting to decide whether Neteyam had lost track of you or if he was deliberately hiding. Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Neteyam coming at you from the corner of your eye. Before you could react, he swiftly wrapped his arms around your middle while rushing towards you. The abruptness caused you to lose balance and fall backward, dragging Neteyam with you.

Instead of feeling your back hit the ground, you sensed the rush of air past you—the slope! You had completely forgotten about it. It was concealed behind large leaves, unknown to many, which made it particularly dangerous. You let put a little yell, which caused Neteyam to quickly shift one of his arms around your head to shield you, keeping the other arm wrapped around your middle. It wasn't an enormous slope, but it was sizable enough that landing incorrectly could result in a serious injury. As you both hit the ground, it knocked the breath out of you. Neteyam sat up, releasing his hold on you as he attempted to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?" Neteyam asked, still out of breath, his concern evident as he helped you into a sitting position. You took a deep breath, realizing that although both of you could have been badly injured, the adrenaline rush left you thrilled. It had your heart racing, and you were certain his was racing just as fast. "Nothing broken or bleeding. That's good, right?" You chuckled, trying to alleviate his sense of guilt. He might have assumed it was his fault, but it wasn't since he had never been there before. If anyone were to blame, it would've been you.

"It isn't your fault. I should've been more careful and not gone so close to the slope." You stated, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. He nodded as your eyes met, yet Neteyam looked at you questioningly as you gently pushed him back, prompting him to lay down. You settled beside him, pointing upwards. "This view is the best from down here." You smiled, gazing up sunlight streaming through the trees above. Neteyam looked in the direction where you were pointing. As you both lay there, the sunlight danced through the leaves. It casted a warm, golden glow around you, Neteyam's eyes shifted to your face. "It's beautiful." He whispered softly, barely audible to you.

Neteyam took in all the details of your features as he studied you closely. The way your eyes sparkled in the light and the faint smile that was on your lips. "Thank you for coming here with me today." Neteyam finally spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded you both. "I know we don't get many chances like this." You eyes met as you turned to look at Neteyam. His eyes were gentle as he focused on yours. His hand reached for your arm as he pulled you closer.

"It's always an adventure with you." you replied, your voice carrying a sense of fondness. The connection between you and Neteyam was something special. As future leaders of your respective villages, your lives were destined to take different paths. These moments of serenity were rare and treasured, allowing you both to let go of your responsibilities and simply be yourselves. Neteyam shifted his gaze back to the trees, losing himself in the dance of the leaves above. You glanced at him, appreciating the peaceful expression on his face. The worries and burdens that usually weighed on his shoulders seemed to have faded away, at least for now. It was moments like this that made you both forget about the pressures awaiting you back in your villages.

As the sunlight gradually shifted and the shadows lengthened, signaling the approaching of eclipse, you both reluctantly stood up, deciding it was time to head back. The playful chase and sudden fall were forgotten, replaced by a sense of calmness and understanding between you and Neteyam. Walking back out of the slope, neither of you spoke much. Allowing the weight of your responsibilities to fade into the background for a little longer. Upon reaching the outskirts of the denser forest, you bid Neteyam goodbye, each of you returning to your respective villages, knowing that the peace you found together in the forest would be cherished until your next stolen moment away from responsibilities. Both of you secretly wished that day wouldn't take long to arrive.

#avatar fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x reader

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 1)

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Word Count: 992

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

A/N: First Fic EVER, dont be mean pls. Also Im not a english native speaker, sorry for any spelling errors. Just saw Songbirds and Snakes and Tom Blyth as President Snow is living rent free in my head! Feedback is appreciated! Follow or like (or both) for part 2!

A month still remained until the announcement of the Plinth Award winner. While Y/N was still somewhat sleepy, in the midst of summer, a brief and subtle snowfall danced outside her window. Believing she was still dreaming, the student got up, opened the window, extended her arm, and touched the flakes to make sure. It was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen; it seemed like magic. She felt the urge to run out and celebrate the arrival of snow, as she did when she was a child. Maybe the Capitol had created a new technology and was testing it in the middle of the night. It seemed like a plausible theory. Y/N closed the window and sat at the edge of the bed, still feeling the coldness of the ice on her fingers. It didn't feel like a dream; Y/N wasn't a girl who dreamed often either. The last time she dreamt, she was in a park in the Capitol, with her mother gently pushing her on the swing. The games were over, people lived happily again, all in one place, there was peace, and no one would go hungry. As a kid, Y/N had suffered through the war, something she wouldn't overcome. And even now, in a place without hunger, with clean clothes and in the best school in the country, she still wasn't completely happy. How could she be happy while people were dying outside? Y/N quietly prayed to herself that a good person would become president, and her dream could come true. For now, she could only study to become someone who could make a difference in Panem. Even if she didn't know where to start.

Y/N looked out the window, and as the snow fell, she returned to her slumber. She couldn't help but think of another Snow, one that still brought her fond memories. Y/N was an idealistic young woman, driven by the memories of war and the fervent desire to make a difference in Panem. Her father, a respected peacekeeper, had left a controversial legacy, but she strove to follow a path of kindness and justice. Her father died after a while from an illness that was never properly explained; Y/N was sure that the reason for his death was remorse—his hands had innocent blood, and he knew it. He withered away gradually, and on his deathbed, he declared his hatred for war and those who supported it. He died cursing the Capitol and its architects.

Y/N wanted to be a better person; she had this opportunity, had hope to change the world around her. Every day, while donning the Academy uniform, she mentally prepared herself to enter the snake pit that was that place. She couldn't pick fights with anyone, even though she wanted to desperately. She remembered how many fights she had tried to avoid only to end up completely ignored and still punished for her good intentions.

The snow falling outside brought back memories of a simpler time, before the fights and rivalries that marked her life at the Academy.

Y/N was beloved by everyone in school, even though she couldn't care less about those spoiled and corrupt rich kids. She couldn't stand them, but there was someone she detested even more: Coriolanus Snow. He wasn't like the others; his past was different, more similar to hers. And yet, he seemed to forget that. He only cared about his grades and not the people around him. They had fought several times since Y/N entered the academy. It was impossible for them to be in the same room without disagreeing about something. She still remembered their first fight when she asked her brother for help to finish a project of a class they were doing together, and they both ended up with the same grade. Snow, not content with just his top grade, found out and did everything to get the teacher to lower Y/N's grade. Insufferably arrogant. As beautiful as he was, he was despicable. After that, it got worse; he always reminded her that she was the second-best student in the class and that he was better, blah, blah, blah. He never even wondered if you cared about your grades. Apart from this obsession, he was nice outside the academy. You were good friends with Tigris; you loved her, and it wasn't because of Corio that you would stop seeing your friend.

Before all of this, Corio had been a nice guy a few times (most of them when he wasn't all pompous around his rich friends). You invited him to the winter ball before the first fight, close to your first anniversary in the Capitol. You danced all night, and he gave you your first kiss. It was quick, and you never talked about it again. Even that scene still gave you chills to this day. It was only after your grades increased and you began to stand out in class that he started treating you with a certain indifference. It was childish, and you felt a weight on your chest for not continuing with what you had, even if it was little. What was once little became nothing. You still saw Tigris from time to time, but Corio rarely left his room, where he had been locked studying for the last few months. You wished you hadn't left him hanging after the kiss, but you were so shocked and didn't understand your feelings. You couldn't distinguish the attraction you felt for him from the fear of losing a friend. Well, you ended up losing him in the same way.

The twist in her routine came when a mysterious woman, dressed in vibrant colors, approached Y/N on an empty street. Her words, filled with urgency, revealed a dark fate for Coriolanus Snow. Y/N, initially skeptical, saw her disbelief fade away when the woman offered an object that provided disturbing glimpses of the future. It was something like two watches joined by a golden chain. As soon as she touched it, she saw everything. It wasn't possible to hear anything, but it wasn't necessary.

The projected scenes showed an unrecognizable Snow: kissing a girl through a cell, then with buzz cut hair shooting birds in a forest, and finally, with his blond hair combed back, looking at the rector's corpse with hatred. She wanted to vomit. She didn't want to believe. Y/N didn't doubt Snow's ability to be a jerk; it had happened several times with her already. But it usually involved some petty ego fight. He didn't seem like a murderer. Y/N felt a mixture of disgust and disbelief. The arrogant antagonist of her school life now seemed destined for a path of destruction.

"Y/N, I know you're a good girl; they told me you'll be of great help at the moment, and even if you doubt me, you'll try to help everyone. The next years will be dark, you wanted your opportunity, and I'm offering it. In a month, important things will start happening in the timeline, and at certain moments, your participation will be decisive. When those moments come, you must intervene and use your intellectual and emotional intelligence to prevent the country's destruction." When the woman finally paused, it seemed like her brain still hadn't grasped the words. Y/N didn't feel fear from her; it was more like affection and compassion.

"Don't give up on him, Y/N. You know him. Even if he seems cold on the outside, I'm telling you there's still hope in something inside him."

Everything happened so quickly; in the blink of an eye, you were sitting in the cafeteria before class started with your snack in front of you, and your friends were completely unaware of your tumultuous mental journey.

"What's happening to me? Am I feverish, hallucinating for the past few hours? Everything feels like a horrible dream." She wondered, trying to distinguish the line between reality and the nightmare she had just witnessed. Her breathing was hurried; she must have looked like a lunatic. The crazy scenes still played in her mind. She wished to know what would happen, and especially who the girl passionately kissing Snow was. It wasn't the most shocking scene she had seen, but it was the one that bothered her the most for some reason.

The responsibility to prevent Coriolanus Snow's dark fate now rested on Y/N's shoulders. She found herself torn between disbelief and the conviction that something needed to be done to avoid an impending tragedy. The challenge was daunting, and the idea of helping someone she despised caused a deep emotional turmoil.

While facing this dilemma, Y/N knew she couldn't ignore the call of destiny. The month leading up to the Plinth Award became a period of anguish, both mentally and emotionally, for the mission she was destined to fulfill. The game of enemies would transform into a complex dance of redemption and understanding, and Y/N was about to embark on a journey that would challenge not only her convictions but also the limits of destiny itself.

---------

Thanks for diving into this story with me! Hope you enjoy the ride as much as I enjoyed creating it. Stay for more twists and turns! Cheers! 📖✨

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #president snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #enemy to lovers #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #fem reader #hunger games au

[insane-brit]

Royalty (prologue)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!fem!reader

Part Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Tags/warnings: Enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, dark story/themes, anger, blood, bond seen as sacred (religious terms used), borderline hatred, mentions of Muzan’s wrong deeds. 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word count: 672

The thread of fate marked many people’s lives since the beginning of time. It had many names, strand of providence, mortal bind, but no matter the denomination, it would attach itself to every living creature to grace this Earth. Binding their soul to another’s. Searing each other’s quintessence in an unbreakable link. To what daemon created such an inane occurrence, Muzan Kibutsuji did not know. It was engrossing to imagine. A demon, a behemoth to this land having such a foolish rope running from his veins and out into the depths of creation. However, he didn’t have one. Long before becoming this, before becoming perfection he had one. That gossamer thread felt like silk running between his fingers, and then it snapped.

Hundreds of years passed by in the blink of an eye and it never manifested itself again. Naturally, a mortal soul could only prolong itself for so long before its demise. Whoever had been tied to him all those years ago would be nothing but dust in the Earth’s crust. It didn’t matter to him anymore. An insignificant creature tied to him would only serve to be a thorn in his side. A weight he could not take on with the circumstances at hand.

A fascinating reality revealed itself as more and more of these creatures were fabricated by his hand. The progenitor studied their mannerisms, capability, and artistries, and through his own deduction and coercion, gained the knowledge that these organisms soul ties were cut. Upon their transformation, any link they had flowing from their wrist was severed. Just like his was on that day. A remembrance of their humanity, along with their memories exhausted with a puncture and drop of his ichor.

To deprive beings that once thirsted for the connection of another was a whole other power in itself. While he already felt and displayed the hierarchy to all, with him on top, this realization only fueled the fire that smoldered in his core. It gave way to new leverage and means of suffering, and he relished in every second of it.

Which is why he didn’t give much thought to the slight tug accompanied by a tingling sensation that spread under his sleeve. A mere remnant of what used to be. The last bits of what remained of his soul attempting to grasp at the traces of what tied him to his late mortal body. At least, that was his notion until it burned. An odd sensation circulated in his veins, and it felt as if they were swelling. However, when he gripped the cuff and wrenched it towards his elbow, he saw nothing.

The clinks and gurgles of liquid in flasks and tubes resounded throughout the infinity castle as he stared impassively at the sickly skin. Whatever vixen dared to tease the withered bond had better scurry along. The caresses of the wicked were not welcome, and yet a pale red permeated under his wrist. A surge of ecstasy engulfed his mind and body. The consecrated thread unveiled itself from a haze and danced around between his digits. It’s end dwindling as he watched it extend farther away from his position. Its form enveloped in blood.

His frustration reached its peak at this development. Blinding rage boiled his revered blood and escaped through hot breaths. How dare fate have the temerity to send forth this declaration. Was this retribution for his deeds? His arm swept across the table, slamming into the fine glasses, splintering them into millions of pieces. How revolting to be tied to something worthless. The string throbbed under his skin as he seethed. The essence of his supposed other half coated his like candied honey.

The rising temptation to ruin the tie with his sacrilegious acts was weighing heavy on his mind. Yet, he would face eternal torment for attempting to ravage what most would consider a blessed gift.

“Insidious…mutinous thing.”

He ran the tip of his finger along the thread. Letting it slice open the tip to drink in his blood.

#demon slayer muzan #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #kibutsuji kny #kny x reader #kny x you #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #x reader #demon slayer x reader #muzan demon slayer #x you #kibutsuji muzan

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Branding You | n.r x w.m

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 4.4k+

Warnings: Ghostface stalker!Nat, attempted assault (not from either Nat or Wanda), strap on use, mention of knife (I kinda don't know how to write a knife play yet so it's not here), praise kink, degradation, oral sex

Summary: Wanda is haunted by an elusive scent with an unknown origin. A chance encounter with a red-haired stranger, who bears the same fragrance, intertwines their destinies in a romantic yet dangerous twist of fate.

╰┈➤ Masterlist

The haunting power of scent, some claim, possesses the ability to transport us to distant memories or familiar individuals. It's not just the singular aroma of a perfume, but a blend of fragrances that make it unique and special.

For Wanda, though, identifying the exact origin or source of the scent she encounters everywhere proves challenging. It's a curious mix of vanilla, lavender, and an acrid tang of cigarette smoke; sometimes the aroma of coffee comes into the mix every now and then. Although the components seem to change every time, the lingering essence of vanilla and smoke remains constant.

Perhaps it's the vanilla and coffee used in her favorite cafe, which gives her the essence of warmth and sweetness with a twinge of bitterness, or the frequent whiff of lavender from the nearby flower shop that gives off the feeling of tranquillity and calmness. But where does the hint of smoke fit in? She concludes that it may be from the bustling streets of New York, where she passes by people engaged in a bad habit that pollutes the air.

The smell of smoke is an unwelcome element of the mixture for Wanda. She is never a fan of smoking because she thinks it's a form of silent suicide. But this certain scent has intertwined itself in her life and she has no way of eliminating it. Her mind is overwhelmed, trying to decipher this daily aroma. It has become the first thing that greets her upon opening her apartment door, enveloping her in a sensation that connects her to a place she's never visited, a person she's never known and a mystery that is yet to be discovered.

Wanda's routine visit to the nearby cafe for her go-to morning coffee turned significant one day. Engrossed in her phone while queuing up, she suddenly caught a lingering scent that had haunted her senses for weeks. Momentarily distracted, she scanned the cafe, not in search of anything specific. What caught her eye was the back of a figure heading towards the exit. The woman, clad entirely in black attire with a leather jacket and likely donning Doc Martens, showcased striking red hair swaying with every step. Wanda found herself inexplicably drawn to observe the woman until she vanished through the cafe's door. Intrigued by this unexpected captivation, Wanda couldn't help but ponder how someone could instantly command her attention, only to fade from her thoughts moments later.

Wanda has been consumed by thoughts of the redheaded woman for weeks. It's the first time someone has piqued her interest so quickly, even without any interaction. She yearns for just a glimpse of the woman's face or a hint of her profile. Wanda constantly scans her surroundings, hoping to catch sight of her again, but each day passes fruitlessly without finding her. She sighs and tries to move on with life, feeling a void she can't seem to fill.

On a rare occasion, Wanda found herself at a club in the wee hours, indulging in alcoholic drinks. In the midst of the dancefloor, she let herself go, dancing freely, a side her friends hadn't seen before. Encouraged by their shock and amusement, Wanda unveiled her hidden wild side. Normally an introvert, she recently sought to explore life's offerings, both good and bad.

Amidst the endless shots and the alcohol coursing through her, she surrendered herself further into music, her pulse racing with each beat. Unbeknownst to her, an unknown figure observed her every move, silently watching and ready to pounce at any minute.

As the alcohol's effects faded, leaving Wanda and her friends a bit dizzy, they chose to end the night. Their designated driver dropped them off one by one, with Wanda being the third. She asked to be let off at the corner of the block, a three minute walk or so to her apartment, to avoid the hassle of driving back to the main road.

It was 3:40 AM when Wanda found herself wandering through the dimly lit street. Although nothing seemed suspicious, she noticed an unknown person following her. Sensing a lurking presence through an instinctive feeling, she bravely turned around to check, but found no one behind her except herself. Despite this, her nerves remained on edge, her heart racing erratically. With hurried steps, she pressed on, eager to reach the safety of her apartment's confines.

The air held a slight chill, yet she couldn't discern if the shivers wracking her body stemmed from the cold or the persistent anxiety since her friends dropped her off. Suddenly, someone lunged at her, causing her to stumble back and fall to the ground, unleashing a scream into the open air.

Wanda's mind raced in multiple directions, torn between staying on the ground or darting out onto the street to scream for help. Knowing she had to act before the situation escalated, she scrambled to her feet, but the assailant seized her left foot, halting her escape. Reacting instinctively, Wanda used her right leg to kick, but the person seemed unfazed by the force. As the struggle ensued, the assailant maintained a grip on her feet, contorting her body in an uncomfortable manner, rendering escape impossible.

"Hey!" A voice echoed through the street, causing both Wanda and the assailant to turn toward the newcomer. But from that moment onward, Wanda's vision blurred, possibly due to the lingering alcohol or the rush of adrenaline from her terrifying situation.

Amid her hazy sight, she discerned two figures, their struggle punctuated by grunts and the sound of blows exchanged. One body slammed forcefully onto the ground, accompanied by the unmistakable crack of a bone. The assailant ended up face-first, sporting a busted nose and bloody lips.

Shock finally caught up with Wanda as she crawled backward, trying to process the bewildering scene before her. Her attention shifted to the person subduing the attacker, hearing them speak. "Do you know stalking a woman in the dark is a bad thing?"

Suddenly, Wanda was struck by a realisation that jolted her senses. Her rescuer, she noticed in an instant, was a redhead. The odds of encountering the very person she had been searching for over weeks seemed improbable. She's quite positive that she is the same redhead that she saw at the cafe. Bathed in the ray of the street lights, the woman's silhouette possessed a captivating allure that ignited Wanda's imagination.

Clad in a red leather jacket, black ripped jeans, and Doc Marten boots, the woman exuded a striking presence, her attire accentuating her already imposing height. Wanda's gaze fixated on her side profile, every contour an embodiment of artistry. The woman's cheekbones seemed meticulously sculpted by the most masterful hands ever to grace the earth.

Her nose, a delicate bridge leading to lips with a plushness that spoke of stories untold, seamlessly merged in a mesmerizing way. Wanda's silent admiration was abruptly interrupted by the woman's voice. "Hey. Are you alright? You seem to be in shock. Can you stand up for me?"

Wanda gazed at the offered hand and grasped it, allowing the stranger to assist her in standing up. "Y-yes. I'm okay," she stammered, cringing inwardly at her clumsy response. Her mind seemed to falter, overwhelmed by the reality of facing this remarkable woman who had fearlessly leaped in to aid her.

"He's unconscious now. I need to call 911, report this incident, and have him put to jail," the woman stated, her voice carrying a deep, husky timbre that resonated within Wanda. She found herself nodding dumbly at each word uttered by her rescuer. In a whirlwind of emotions, she felt a surge of confusion, wondering if she had hit her head during the altercation, but she reasoned that her erratic behavior might stem from the recent attack and the effects of alcohol. Her thoughts whirled in disarray, shifting from fear of her attacker to a sense of elation brought on by her savior.

Minutes passed in a hazy blur as Wanda witnessed the arrival of the cops, their questions a jumble she struggled to comprehend. The redhead intervened, explaining the situation on her behalf. As the interrogation concluded and the assailant was cuffed, the officers departed, offering a ride home, which the redhead politely declined, citing that they were near their apartment. Wanda didn't even notice what had been said, didn't even wonder how the woman could have guessed that.

Alone at last, the woman spoke again. "Are you ready to go home? I'll walk you there to ensure you arrive safely."

"I'd appreciate that, thank you," Wanda replied, straightening up from her slouched position, her focus on the redhead leading the way. "May I ask your name?"

The woman chuckled, amusement evident in her question. "You're still drunk, aren't you? Didn't even catch my name when I mentioned it to the cops. But for your benefit, I'm Natasha."

Wanda felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks as she lowered her gaze, a mixture of excitement and shyness washing over her. "Well, you probably heard my name from the cops, but I'm Wanda."

The walk to Wanda's apartment passed without incident, yet she yearned for a few more moments in Natasha's company. "I wanted to ask if I could take you out for coffee sometime? You saved me, and I honestly don't know what would've happened if you hadn't stepped in to help."

Natasha's smile seemed to radiate beyond Wanda's comprehension, igniting a fluttering sensation in her chest similar to a stampede of a thousand lions or attackers, much like the recent encounter.

"Coffee? I can't turn that down."

Thrilled by Natasha's response, Wanda suggested exchanging numbers, promising to text her to arrange their coffee... date?

Two days post-incident, they had their coffee date and have been texting non-stop ever since. Wanda's feeling like her high school self, giddy over every bit of attention from her crush. Natasha's shameless flirting has Wanda on cloud nine, unable to resist.

Wanda found out Natasha owns the cafe she frequents before work and the same one that they are in, leading her to realize why she's seen the redhead there. She chose not to mention her search for Natasha since that day, not wanting to come off as creepy.

She also noticed Natasha's distinct scent, one that's followed her everywhere. Wanda attributed it to Natasha being the cafe owner, a blend of vanilla, coffee, and smoke that has her infatuated, craving to be near Natasha, almost wishing the scent would linger on her own skin.

Their dates spanned from nights at Wanda's place watching movies to rides on Natasha's bike, aimlessly driving until dusk to catch the city lights. Most days found them in Natasha's cafe, engrossed in hours-long conversations, both eager to delve deeper into each other's worlds. Throughout these passing weeks, Natasha never initiated a kiss, leaving Wanda increasingly frustrated. Natasha, like a gentleman, prioritized her comfort, guiding her with a hand on her back as they walked. Wanda cherished these small gestures from Natasha, prompting her decision to take their relationship to the next level.

After dropping Wanda off at her apartment door, Natasha was invited inside but had to decline, citing the need to return to the shop to oversee the closing duties. Just as Natasha was about to leave, Wanda seized her wrist and gently guided her in with her other hand, planting an unexpected kiss on Natasha's lips. The kiss started out slow, gauging each other's reaction then escalated to a full blown make out session in a matter of seconds.

"Fuck. I've been wanting to do that, detka." Natasha gasped, catching her breath after an intense moment at Wanda's doorway.

"You kept me waiting, so I took matters into my own hands." Wanda smirked, leaning in for another passionate kiss.

As they parted, both women steadied their breaths. Natasha's eyes were hooded, a dangerous intensity sparked by Wanda's soft moans. Wanda can almost see how Natasha restrained herself from diving right back in and kissng her senseless.

"I need to leave. See you tomorrow, alright?" Natasha leaned in for another kiss, soft and tender, her hands gripping Wanda's waist affectionately.

Biting her lower lip, Wanda traced Natasha's jawline down to her chin. "Call me when you're home, okay?"

"You're quite the tease," Natasha's voice lowered, adding to Wanda's excitement.

Natasha had left her apartment, leaving Wanda to her own devices. Surveying her apartment, she detected a trace of Natasha's scent that seemed to linger, despite it being present even before they met. It seemed like the scent had been branded on her skin. Puzzled by this, Wanda pondered its origin, realizing there might be no immediate answers. Choosing to tidy up before bed, she glimpsed the lavender bouquet gifted by Natasha on her way to the bathroom. Reflecting on Natasha's enigmatic nature, Wanda felt a magnetic pull, a desire to unravel every aspect of Natasha, from the smallest facts about her to the biggest secret she could hide.

Approaching midnight, Wanda wrestled with restlessness in her bed, anxiously awaiting Natasha's call, presuming she wasn't home yet despite the late hour. Beyond concern for Natasha's whereabouts, Wanda found herself reflecting on their dating experience. Recalling moments where Natasha displayed an uncanny knowledge of her life, from effortlessly navigating to her workplace without directions to casually mentioning her favorite nail polish and preemptively ordering her preferred dish at a European restaurant, Wanda initially dismissed these incidents. However, now, the significance of Natasha's insights weighed heavily on her. It became clear that these instances weren't mere chance occurrences; Natasha inexplicably knew intimate details about her despite her not mentioning those things. Wanda grappled with the thought, how could Natasha know things about her?

Wanda's contemplation was interrupted as she heard the knob to her main door turned. Alert and heart racing, she dashed out of her room, immediately fearing a potential robbery. Scanning the area, she found nothing visibly wrong, but the unease lingered; a lurking burglar could strike at any moment. Recollecting she owned a baseball bat for self-defense, Wanda hurried back to her room. Retrieving the bat and turning around, she was startled by another presence, a masked figure carrying a knife on her left hand.

Wanda held out her bat and thought of ways on how to escape her room. But how can she escape when the masked figure is right there on her doorway. As the person advanced toward her with an intimidating stride, her trembling intensified. Acting on instinct, she swung the bat, but the figure deftly caught it, disarming her. Realizing her vulnerability, Wanda attempted to flee her room, but two powerful hands swiftly grabbed and wrapped her midsection, preventing her escape.

"Let go of me!" Wanda protested, squirming in a futile attempt to break free from the hold. Her captor silenced her with a hand over her mouth, yet she persisted in struggling despite the slim chances of breaking away.

The masked figure flung her onto the bed, intensifying Wanda's fear. Seated on her thighs, trapping and preventing her from leaping off the bed.

"I have been following you, watching every move," the distorted voice echoed.

Wanda briefly halted her struggles, her heart racing incessantly, scanning the figure above her. Apart from the looming mask, the body on top of her appeared to be lithe, yet possessed an unyielding grip. She can't quite decipher why she is not panicking and screaming at the top of her lungs, crying for help. Instead, the masked figure released her mouth, sensing Wanda's confusion.

"Who are you?" Wanda asked in a breathless manner, anticipating the revelation that would unfold only if the person would opt to reveal themselves.

The ensuing silence unsettled Wanda as her captor leaned closer, appearing to scrutinise her. Suddenly, a hand trailed across her clothed abdomen, creeping upward to her left breast, applying a gentle pressure. Startled, Wanda jolted from her reverie, resuming her struggle and protesting, "Get off me! Get off me!"

The other person has subdued Wanda by pinning both of her wrists on top of her head using a belt that was removed from their waist, "If you stay still and be a good girl, I promise I'm going to make you feel good."

"No, no! I don't want you! Please, get off me!" Wanda pleaded.

"It's just me, baby. I thought you wanted me so bad."

The smug tone of the masked person seemed so familiar.

"N-Natasha?" Wanda asked with disbelief.

"That's right, darling," Both of Natasha's fingertips traced over Wanda's taut abdomen, leaving goosebumps on the brunette's skin.

"What are you doing?" Wanda's voice trembled and attempted to reach Natasha's face, "Why are you doing this?"

"You've been on my mind ever since I saw you," Natasha has lifted Wanda's sweatshirt up to her chest, exposing the delicious tits that she had been admiring for a long time. "I bet you didn't know I placed a camera right here in your bedroom. Watching every move."

To say that Wanda is terrified at Natasha's confession is an understatement. All this time, Natasha knew about her and she's a clueless dumb little girl. Her breath quickens at every second that ticks while she's laying beneath this hell of a woman.

"What are you talking about? That's not true!"

"I can't get you out of my head. I had to do it. I needed, no, fuck, I wanted to own you." Natasha wishepered on her ear. She then removed her mask and placed it on top of the bed, close to reach. Her eyes carried a dangerous intention, making Wanda whine from the intensity of the stare.

"Seeing and touching your gorgeous fucking tits is better than watching them from a screen." Natasha leaned down to suck on Wanda's nipple, biting, rolling it gently while kneading the other one with her hand aggressively.

A moan escaped from Wanda's mouth, much to her surprise. She cannot fathom whether she will let herself succumb to this torturous pleasure or run with it. But fuck it, she wanted Natasha in any way possible.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing? You like this, huh? I bet your pussy is wet for me. Would you like me to check?"

"Please, no." Wanda whined even more and shook her head, embarrassed by her body's reaction from Natasha's ministrations.

"No? But I can feel you squeezing your thighs. Trying to hide your arousal, sweetheart?" And with that, Natasha got up and kneeled on the side of Wanda's bed, facing the clothed pussy. "This pussy is mine."

In a swift motion, Wanda's boxers came off and slid through her legs. She closed her thighs at an instant, feeling vulnerable at Natasha's hungry stare.

"Natasha, please!"

"Please, what? I can make this icky feeling disappear, baby. Come on! Don't make me angry!"

Natasha's threat somehow got into Wanda's brain and obediently opened her legs. And she was right, Wanda is dripping. Her arousal is evident with the way her pussy is glistening.

Wanda's breath hitched the moment Natasha's tongue touched her throbbing core. Natasha's warming it up with gentle, kitten licks from the bottom to circling the tip of her sensitive clit. These continued movements earned a deep moan from Wanda, silently pleading and praying for more.

The slow, broad licks of Natasha's tongue proved to be Wanda's undoing. She knew that this sinful act is way better than the times she touched herself, fantasising about Natasha doing the unspeakable things to her.

Natasha's method alternated between licking the clit with precision by using the tip of her tongue to sucking the entirety of Wanda's pussy, making her arch her back from the intense pleasure that was cursing through her body.

"F-fuck! Ahhh—faster!"

Wanda was startled with how her body was reacting effortlessly to Natasha and her brain was in constant push and pull whether this pleasure is a welcome touch on her senses. But what can she lose? She badly wanted Natasha and could barely keep it together. She decided right then to let herself melt on the wave of pleasure and to not overthink her current situation. The coil in her stomach snapped at an instant, welcoming the surge of intense earth-shattering orgasm that made her thrash on top of the bed, legs shaking violently.

Natasha let Wanda ride through her orgasm by slow strokes of her tongue, easing her into a relaxed manner. Although she had a smirk on her facing, feeling triumphant at Wanda's fucked out appearance. She reached up and caressed Wanda's cheek lovingly.

"What a good girl you are, Wanda."

After regaining her breath, Wanda soaked in Natasha's praise, a pleased smile lighting up her face. She gazed at Natasha and leaned in for a kiss. Their kiss was brimming with an intense passion and an insatiable desire, longing to unleash itself in the most fervent and unrestrained manner imaginable. It was a slow, deliberate meeting of lips that carried within it a fiery yearning, desperate to be set free in an eruption of fervour.

"I want to fuck you. I will make you reach places which you thought never existed within you," Natasha growled at her ears. "Lay on your stomach."

The command came in a gentle manner, but Wanda understood not to hesitate, immediately positioning herself exactly as instructed without a second thought. She felt Natasha behind her and her upper back was pushed on the bed, while her ass was hoisted further up.

Wanda glanced at the side of her room and caught a view of herself from the mirror. Her back is arched at a perfect angle, laying flat on her stomach and her ass is aligned with Natasha's crotch. Her wrists are still bound by a belt and were stretched out on top of her head. She then saw that Natasha had removed her pants and what was left on her was a harness that is strapped intricately on her waist, and the faux cock is hanging proudly in the middle of her buttcheeks.

Naturally, Wanda's eyes widened at the sight of Natasha. The redhead had opted to remove her top as well, leaving her bare breasts for Wanda to see. She wanted to reach out and feel them with her own hands, perhaps she can perform all of her fantasies at a later time, only if Natasha allows her to do it.

"You're so goddamn sexy, Wanda. I don't know how I was able to keep it this long," Natasha's hands travelled over the expanse of Wanda's back, and gave a loud smack on her left buttcheek. "I'll fuck you, so, so good."

Natasha aligned the tip of her cock at Wanda's entrance and slowly pushed in. There was little to no resistance since Wanda is well lubricated with her own wetness. But the stretch of the toy inside was overwhelming Wanda's senses.

"Fuck! It's too big. It won't fit!" Wanda said in a panicked haze.

"Oh baby," Natasha falsely comforted Wanda's worry and caressed the back of her head. "Then I'll have to push harder for it to fit, yeah?"

Natasha silenced Wanda's protest by shoving her head down further onto the pillow, stifling both her groans and pleas.

"You're going to fucking take it!" Each word was punctuated with deep, hard, backbreaking thrusts, making the bed squeak from the repetitive moment.

Wanda's silent muffled noise can be heard simultaneously with the sound of Natasha's brutal pounding. Gasping for air, she struggled to turn her head, desperate for a breath while also trying to catch a glimpse of her surroundings.

Natasha bundled Wanda's hair in her hand and pulled her to her chest abruptly "See, baby? It fits in your tight little pussy."

Mouth agaped, and eyes rolled back, Wanda nodded dumbly, letting herself be fucked throroughly. She can't remember sex being this good, but good God, Natasha knew what she's doing. True to her words, Wanda indeed reached places she thought never existed. Each brutal pound transports her to a different dimension, opening up portals for agonizing sensation and pleasure.

"My pretty little slut to ruin," Natasha murmured to her ear. "You like being fucked like this, huh?"

"Yes! Oh god! Harder, please!"

Wanda felt Natasha's breast hitting her back and their bodies' closeness somehow grounds her. And oh, that unique scent of Natasha filled her senses, intensifying her desire to be immersed in Natasha's presence. The blend of vanilla and cigarette smoke seemed to be a metaphor for Natasha's personality— soft, sweet, and kind-hearted. Yet be the kind of person who will break into her apartment with an intent of fucking her to oblivion. She felt loved and at the same time violated, questioning her own sanity at how easily she could melt like a puddle at Natasha's undeniable allure.

"Natasha, I-I'm gonna c-cum!" Wanda cried out at how fast approaching her orgasm was and Natasha doubled her efforts into bringing her into another climax.

"Cum on my cock, you slut." Natasha's encouragement opened Wanda's floodgates that made her wildly thrash against her chest, screaming her name as the orgasm paralyzed her fucked out senses.

Exhausted, Wanda collapsed on her bed, her head turned to the side, breathing heavily. Natasha pulled out the strap and laid beside her.

Natasha gazed at Wanda's face, patiently awaiting her calmness and awareness of her surroundings. "You did so good, baby."

A smile graced Wanda's face, prompting her to lean in for a sweet and gentle kiss with Natasha. The kind of soft touch that both women needed after an intense activity. Despite being tired and on the verge of sleep, Wanda still looked remarkably beautiful in Natasha's eyes.

"Planning to doze off on me, Princess?" Natasha teased her lover.

"No!" Wanda replied defiantly, scrambling to her feet and straddling Natasha's waist.

Wanda bit her lip seductively, contemplating what she's going to say next, "Why don't you wear your mask again while I ride you?"

"Hmm, did I hear that right? Are you sure you're not too tired?" Natasha teased Wanda again and pinched her nipple, checking if she was serious on her suggestion because she's ready.

Wanda playfully nodded, grabbing the ghost mask beside them and putting it on Natasha's head. She loved how Natasha's eyes sparkled dangerously while lowering the mask which made her pussy throb even more.

"Do you still have your camera set up here at the moment?" Wanda asked while she positioned herself atop Natasha.

"Yes."

Feeling satisfied, Wanda sank down and moaned at the familiar stretch.

"Good, 'cause I'm going to fuck myself with your cock all night long."

Like, comments, and reblogs are welcome. :)

#wandanat #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha x wanda #wandanat fanfiction #marvel #wlw