#continuous granny square

[stormlit]

folks making a granny square blanket was a mistake i'm not even halfway done and i feel like i've been doing it forever

[robinsnest2111]

back at it again, knitting the night away 🧶

[vampire-connoisseur]

Since 2025 is apparently the year of the no-buy and the stash down, I have a very controversial opinion.

I think "using up your stash" is barely an improvement to just continually buying new yarn. The idea comes from a good place, but when the goal becomes reducing the size of your yarn stash, it just becomes a challenge to use what you have any way possible so you can buy more.

If you don't particularly want a granny square blanket, you probably shouldn't use pristine skeins to make one. Same thing with cabled beanies or what have you. When you start trying to use up your stash, instead of just limiting yourself to knitting with mostly yarn you already own, the goal can become to burn through it as fast as possible chasing the feeling of progress, instead of ending up with useful things that you or people in your life will love. If you knit a hat and then never wear it, it isn't actually any better than not knitting the hat at all, in terms of waste.

I honestly think yarn should not be such a defining feature of the hobby. I think it holds inherent excitement because a new skein could become anything, we automatically feel interest and desire for new skeins, and it has the same dopamine fountain properties as other forms of shopping, but it probably isn't good for most of us. When the most exciting part is buying the skein, and then using it becomes an obligation, the joy of knitting and crochet is reduced to consumerism.

Yarn is beautiful and exciting to me, but I'm really trying to change the way I see it. Instead of an exciting blank slate, I'm trying to teach myself to view yarn as a companion. I don't want yarn to be what excites me, because then the hunger for more of it never goes away. I'm glad when I run out of a beautiful yarn because it means I can buy more. Buying is the reward. New yarn is a treat. I don't want that to be part of my life, though. I'm trying to see yarn as enabling the project, and if anything the pattern as the exciting component. When I knit, I try to focus on the work itself, the properties of the finished object and what it will be for, and the techniques I'm learning or practicing, instead of my progress through the yarn.

It's difficult because often inspiration comes from the yarn, and yarn is something that all knitters and crocheters can share an enjoyment of regardless of experience level, style, or time investment, but I still think it's doing more harm than good.

When I buy yarn, I want to be thinking about all the time I'm going to be spending with it. I'm going to be touching it, carrying it with me, frogging it, measuring it, finding patterns for it, and examining it as I knit it up. I will probably use it for multiple projects, at the very least in scrap form, and it will probably lead me to consider buying more yarn of a similar weight and fiber content to use in conjunction with it. That's what I mean when I say it should be a companion instead of a commodity. It goes with you and you pull projects out of it; you don't transform it into projects and move on.

I don't want to use yarn I thought I would love in patterns that don't make me happy and that no one in my life particularly wants. I want yarn to be a resource, rather than a burden. If there are no projects I want to make with my existing yarn, I should save it for later or find another owner for it. I don't want to choose projects out of obligation to yarn I have so that I can make the space to buy more.

Part of me wonders if the emphasis on yarn has amplified the boom in very plain knitting patterns. I can't speak to crochet, but I know that the most popular patterns on ravelry and among knitting youtubers are very simple stockinette pullovers or plain ribbed beanies or something else that is very quick and easy to make and doesn't challenge your knitting capabilities. It could just be because these are what become wardrobe staples, but I also know that a lot of non-knitters wear complex cabled and lacy sweaters and cardigans on a daily basis, including very fashionable people. These simple patterns emphasize yarn choice and let you process stashed yarn faster, but how many people knitting them would rather have a more complex piece, and just don't feel inclined to dedicate the time to one sweater when it could be used to make three?

Anything that slows down your purchasing will be beneficial to your finances and environmental impact, but I think an even greater change in perspective than what you get from a buy ban is in order. You may learn what yarns you actually enjoy or become more creative or experiment with new techniques, but that doesn't actually address the supposed materialism or consumerism issues regarding how we engage with our hobby.

I honestly don't know if building a stash should be a goal or common practice at all. I know all the defenses; I think it makes sense to want to save yarn if your finances are unpredictable, but I think this is a separate issue not really related to the topic of stashing generally. That is either a sensible behavior in a situation that a lot of people with massive craft hoards are not in, or a maladaptive response to traumatic experiences. Either way, saving yarn when you get your hands on it is different from building a "mindful stash" or knitting to use up what you have as fast as possible.

I know a lot of people reason that if you have what you need to create on hand, you can make things more easily, but there are so many limitations of material, quantity, weight, and color that knitting from stash for many people is just an additional challenge (I know for amigurumi artists this is not really the case) and when you have a large stash, it becomes a question of whether you can use it before your tastes change. I know I have a lot of aran weight yarn I don't really know what to do with.

I don't think we should use shopping for joy or comfort. I suspect we would be happier if we almost exclusively bought yarn we planned on using immediately. I saw a youtuber turn an entire advent calendar into a granny square blanket in the name of "stash busting," and maybe she really treasures that blanket now, but if not, I don't see why it had to be "busted" in the first place.

Maybe our engagement with yarn should take the form of reading up on our material options, building lists of specific things we want to try, or following whatever source of yarn is within our budget-- not to seek out deals or new releases, but to get a sense of what our options will be when we do decide to replenish our supply. Instead of looking at skeins of yarn and indulging or fighting a drive to snap them up before they're taken away from you, we could try to translate the skein from a visual and textural experience in the moment into the entire course of working with the yarn. We should imagine the experience of working with it and the finished objects we can pull from it.

I think making fewer finished objects would be okay, as long as each one was worth more to us. Using less yarn on the same budget would also let us try fancier yarns. And when shopping for deals, it's worth remembering that the qualities of the yarn are not what you are bargaining for, but the enjoyment and utility you get per dollar. Even very expensive yarn that you get for cheap and then rush through using is only worth the fun you got from using it and the pleasure the finished object brings you or others (unless you sell the FO).

Joy from shopping is very temporary and sometimes comes as a loan when the purchase becomes a burden and we miss our money and time. I think shopping for fun, especially online, is an inefficient way to get value for our money at best and a maladaptive behavior at worst. I'm curious how often we buy yarn for the act of searching and buying instead of because we want a new yarn in our lives, and I'm curious how doing so impacts how we engage with our hobby.

TL;DR: I think a lot of people have a shopping problem, not a hoarding problem. I think no-buy time and working from stash will not resolve the underlying issues, and I think different behaviors would make us happier.

My mind could be changed, but these are my thoughts right now.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fashion History

for your next poem/story (pt. 2/2)

1950s

The 1950s were a time of large cultural and social change, which was reflected in the world of fashion. The Korean War began in 1950, followed by the introduction of the color TV in 1951. And in 1954, the modern civil rights movement began.

As the suburbs became popular, family and domesticity for women became a prominent force in society. Additionally, teenagers became fashion consumers and market leaders for the first time.

Due to technological advances, new fibers such as polyester, triacetate, and spandex are introduced. 

The prominent trend of the time was femininity, as shown by the prominence of Christian Dior's "New Look". Shape was emphasized by full swing skirts or narrow pencil skirts, as well as fitted bodices and a small waistline achieved with the help of petticoats and girdles. Elegant accessories and jewelry such as hats and pearls were popular at the time, and high heels were ubiquitous. Other trends included Peter Pan collars, tapered or capri pants, and the introduction of the bikini. 

1960s

The Beatles led the music and fashion “British Invasion,” influencing teenagers with their Mod aesthetic.

The Civil Rights movement led to the popularity of ethnic and African-inspired garments such as dashikis and caftans.

The 1960s were marked by eclecticism, both in fashion and society. A plethora of styles were fashionable at one time, ranging from space age fashions using vinyl and synthetics, to bold prints, colors, and disposable paper dresses inspired by Pop Art.

Mod fashion appeared on the London scene, with fashion designer Mary Quant as the “high priestess” of the style, and Twiggy as its supermodel.

Boutiques, a 1960s creation, began offering designer ready-to-wear collections, while easy-care fabrics were increasingly used by the general public.

Longer hemlines were dominant with maxi skirts and granny dresses, while hot pants and mini skirts were adopted by the younger market. These shorter hemlines popularized the use of pantyhose for modesty. As the decade progressed, chemise dresses that typified the dominant straight A-line silhouette became popular. Turtleneck blouses and sweaters were common, and sleeves were usually three-quarter length. Sleeveless tops were worn after the mid 1960s.

Jacqueline Kennedy became a major fashion icon, famous for her sophisticated style, pillbox hats, and pearls. Overall, hats in general experienced a decline in use, due to the popularity of high bouffant hairstyles.

Knee high go-go boots were popular, patent was often used, and low-heeled, square-toed shoes were common.

Popular accessories included headbands, bold jewelry, and matching shoes and handbags.

1970s

During the 1970s, the eclecticism of the previous decade continued, and influences from subcultures dominated fashion.

The Vietnam War ended in 1973, and the first Earth Day was celebrated in 1974.

The hippie subculture emphasized environmental awareness and social acceptance, translating into the popularity of natural fibers and earth tones, loose garments, blue jeans, and ethnic influences in dress.

Peasant blouses and skirts and psychedelic prints were popular, as well as historic revival styles.

In the late 1970s, music styles such as glam rock, disco, and punk influenced fashion and resulted in flashy, often shocking styles.

For the most part, clothing was loose and unstructured compared to previous decades. Skirts came in a variety of lengths — mini, midi, or maxi — although the mini and maxi were the most popular.

Unisex styles in clothing became a trend and were perpetuated by Diane Keaton’s character in the 1977 film, Annie Hall.

Trousers and blue jeans were worn by women more than ever before. Designer jeans arrived on the market, resulting in the birth of “licensing” for non-fashion products. Polyester was the other preferred textile for trousers.

1980s

With the rise of new media such as MTV, the 80s fashion landscape began to shift rapidly.

The televised wedding of Prince Charles and Diana Spencer caused a fashion frenzy, with "Lady Di's" elegant hats, tailored suits, and evening dresses making her a global style icon. 

The 1980s were known as the "Me" Generation, with an emphasis on logos and designer labels.

The decade also saw the rise of yuppie (young urban professionals) culture, and the introduction of the fitness craze.

In the world of high fashion, postmodernism and avant-garde fashion were vastly influential. With the introduction of yuppie culture, business attire and "power-dressing" with items like shoulder pads was a popular trend.

In light of the fitness craze, leg warmers, tights, and leotards were widely worn, and women accessorized with big hair, flashy costume jewelry, and bright heels.

In terms of undergarments, Madonna and Jean-Paul Gaultier inspired an underwear-as-outerwear trend alongside the popularity of Calvin Klein.

1990s

The 1990s reflected subcultures such as punk, goth, and grunge in fashion.

Hip-hop music became popular and as a result, urban fashion was popularized.

Unlike previous decades, the 1990s was notable for a more relaxed and casual look, as well as the introduction of technology such as cell-phones and pagers.

With the rise of globalization & technology, the fashion cycle began to speed up. 

1990s style was often considered "anti-fashion,"  with purposefully clashing or contradictory aesthetics.

Black, minimalist styles were popular, as well as vintage and 1970s style.

Many younger people sported crop tops, cargo pants, and blue jeans, and athletic wear in daily life. In terms of shoes, high heels, wedges, sandals, platforms, and sneakers were all widely worn.

More Notes: On Fashion ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[v3nusxsky]

Reader who was already obsessed with Regina hen she was queen and subcontiously that obsession stayed with her after the curse. I mean, bordiline creep behaviour soemtimes. Regina finds out and remembers them from the enchanted forest- they used to sit outside the castle garden and watch Regina walk about- and decides to have kinky kinky sex with this little stalker...

Enchanted by you 18+

*authors note~ second Kinktober fic for my lovely queen🥰 this time will be filling this square for role play and/or power play*

Trigger warnings~ power play/slight role play (but it’s okay bc she’s a queen in cannon sooo), sensory deprivation (blindfolds), bondage, oral sex, your majesty (Regina), alludes to reader being a creep in the name of attraction, magical strap on (reader receives), praise/degrading kink, slight overstimulation

Prompt ~ see ask^^^^^^

Covers this bingo square

Your routine as a simple farmers daughter. Until you saw her. It was purely accidental. Heading back along the broader to the forest from delivering eggs from the farm was where you first laid eyes on the regal woman. Her pure onyx coloured horses guiding her grand carriage past you effortlessly. That’s when you caught the first glance of the queen. It’s all it should’ve been really. A simple glance. Until it was more.

Every day you’d find a way to escape to the castle. No one needed to know. She didn’t even know you existed. Why would she? A stunning example of a woman and a farmers daughter quickly becoming an old maid. No one noticed you and for the first time you were now glad for it. It made it easier to sit just outside of the castle gardens completely unnoticed by the guards as you continued to drink in every step the queen took, memorise every detail of her tight dresses and even going as far to commit the images and sounds of her voice to memory. One glance wasn’t meant to lead to this. You knew it was creepy, the poor woman didn’t know you were watching her so intently every day or how you fantasised about her every night beneath the darkness of your room.

A vivid memory of what you thought to be a dream lead you here. Every day. You’d start in granny’s cafe, trail behind her as she strutted towards the office for a full day of being mayor. After finishing working at the near by high school library you’d catch a glimpse of her heading home to Henry. Her son. Yet you never noted a husband. Before waiting in the shadows as she readied herself for bed before retreating to your own home under the cover of darkness to repeat the same routines.

The day the spell lifted it was purely instinctual for you seek the evil queen out. And there she was in her usual attire back at her own family crypt. You’d seen her visit many times over the years, mayor mills stood in her queen attire, a deep burgundy dress decorated with black delicate lacy trim and a train only worthy of a queen. Her makeup sporting the dark Smokey eye that you didn’t realise you’d missed all these years. Looking the exact same as you recall all those years ago. Content to watch from afar until she pounced.

Within an instant her purple smoke wrapped itself around your form, skilfully tying you with deep purple silks and removing any clothing you had on. Anyone stupid enough to stalk the queen would be punished. “Oh, look at you. All tied up and ready to be punished.” In the dimly lit room you should’ve felt fear, embarrassment or well shame yet all you could do is drink in the sight of the women before you. As regal as ever the evil queen scanned over your form as everything clicked into place. Her little stalker.

“Hm what a naughty little stalker you’ve been. Following me for years thinking I would let you get away with it. Hiding in the shadows like a desperate little whore” the raven haired queen husked taking calculated steps towards you, never once losing your eye contact. You aren’t yourself, that’s your excuse. She knows. Of course she knew. She’s the evil queen. Yet you still can’t help but try to gain some control here, “i’ve been very bad. i think i need to be punished. “

“You have the nerve to stalk me, to act like nothing more than a bitch in heat desperately trying to gain my attention and then demand what I will do with you?” Her words were accompanied with a flick of her wrist causing a blindfold to be snuggly situated around your head covering your eyes, “do I need to gag you too? Or will you be a good little play toy and learn your place?”

“I’ll be good your majesty” you mumbled thoughtfully, after years of watching her it was clear you are on thin ice here. Perhaps this was what you needed. Her to use and abuse you so your own selfish carnal need to be around her would leave. It wasn’t uncommon for the queen to bed many a people in her time of reign, men and women alike had come and gone through her chambers. And well, this had to be a dream. “Oh a cleaver play thing I have” she praised in thought before taking measured steps to reach your bound body and drag it into position. From there she made short work of her dress and exposing her warm core to the room. “Kneel” she commanded, smirking as your body fell willingly into position, “be a dear and make your queen cum and cum hard or I’ll lock you up somewhere no one would even dream of finding a pathetic stalker like you.”

Without needing to be told twice you immediately found your way to her dripping cunt and began to kiss lick and suck every inch of her. You’d imagined tasting her many times before but nothing compared to the real thing. Addicting. No wonder you’ve been after her for so long. Not being able to see the pleasure you were bestowing on her was irritating at best, but then again you didn’t need to. You’d seen her naked body many times over the years in Storybrook. Watching her change or just fresh out of the shower lotioning her smooth gorgeous skin was forever burnt into your memory.

“Such a good slut making her queen feel so good” Regina mewled at a particularly harsh suck to her sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to hum against her soaked folds, arms struggling against the magical silks binding your arms. “Oh does the pathetic whore want to touch her queen?” She teased noticing your squirming, “such a slut for your queen I bet you’d let me keep you forever, personal sex doll for me to use. You’d be the perfect choice wouldnt you?”

When she came, you’d never been more grateful for your attention to detail. Learning quickly what she wanted and her body’s silent cues causing a gush of sweetness to reward your hard effort. It didn’t matter you were uncomfortable, that your tongue had long since grown tired and your knees numb because she may as well be your own personal brand of drug. A sharp tug at your hair demanding you move causing you to mumble in your submissive gaze “Reality is even better than my dreams.”

Your words caught the queen off guard for a second before she murmured a spell to herself to produce a magically enchanted stap on, “silly girl, whores like you need a good fucking to set you back on the right path. Maybe you’ll learn to ask rather than watch like a creep.” Her words stung, you couldn’t help the desire to see her all the time, to know her routines and what she looked like underneath her clothes. It’s really her fault for being too damn sexy. Sex on legs as you called her in private. Due to your sight being taken away, you stumbled as Regina rose to her full height to bend you over the desk you just ate her out on. Hips being slammed onto her desk as she grew impatient, “behave little girl or I’ll leave you here like this, a good for nothing slut for anyone to use. Pathetic.”

Without giving you time to even consider her words you felt the head of a faux cock pressing against your slit, “your majesty! I can’t. I’ve never” you whimpered pitifully. “Oh so filthy pathetic and a virgin? Even more reason to make you mine” she decided out loud and you knew there was no point in pretending you didn’t want her to be your first. “Hold still dear, it hurts more if you move” was her only warning, a moment of tenderness showing how poorly the king had treated her to the trained eye, before she slowly pressed her hips into yours. The toy slipping into your soaking cunt, stretching you out in ways you never knew it could.

“Oh fuck Regina!” You cried out dazed at the full feeling she’d given you. A harsh smack to your right ass cheek and a harsh reminder of you losing your place, “it’s your majesty bitch” before starting to slip out of your pussy only to slam back in, moaning at the feel of your virgin walls suffocating her shaft. “Mine.” She growled “sweet filthy stalker. All mine.”

“All yours majesty! Please please more” you whined taking her now brutal thrusts as pain morphed into white hot pleasure, “want to be yours. Make me yours.” As if the woman needed encouragement. You were hers. Now and forever. “Silly girl, I’m never letting you leave. Ever” she moaned before moving her lips to kiss your shoulder sweetly. Instinctively you leaned your head to the side, allowing her access to your smooth neck as you took everything she had to give. Only when the queen sunk her teeth into to junction between your neck and shoulder did you finally let go, covering the magical shaft in your warm cum, inner walls milking it dry as she tries to prolong your orgasm. “Mine” is all she offers as she slips from your abused core and releases the magical ties.

Laying there on her floor, little room she often hides out in to be alone with her magical books, away from home you hazily rake your eyes over your wife. “Mm so sex on legs” you mumble as she works to magically clean up and change her outfit. “I take it you liked that darling?” Liked would be an understatement, you mentioned before how much you loved her outfits and well the role play was her idea to try out. “Mm Gina so good” you whimpered feeling her magic dress you in a loose shirt, “snuggle?”

If you’d told anyone. That mayor mills, the evil queen was a snuggler no one would believe you. Then again no one in the enchanted forest believed you when you said all those daily visits to the castle would make her notice you. Her sweet little stalker, saviour of her heart, a simple farmers daughter.

Word count~ 1868

[inconspicuous-ghost]

.bird dance

synopsis: a very short silly fic wherein caleb is so down bad for you that he is imitating male birds' mating dance to flirt at you to some suggestive songs (Sexyback and Wet the Bed) and it is successful.

a/n: based on this instagram vid. cuz seriously this man will definitely do this 😂. his outfit was obviously inspired by one of the OP's outfit in the vid. reader here can be non-mc or mc whatever you like.

Your jaw dropped at the scene in front of you upon entering your shared apartment. It was already evening by the time you came home.

There in the hallway stood your boyfriend, Caleb. It was not strange to see him there as you are used to him greeting you every time you arrive home. But this time was definitely different.

Instead of his usual outfits that were his style, he wore a sleeveless granny square vest you made for him that showed off his toned arms, donned a trousers, black shoes, and a cowboy hat sat atop of his head to finish the look.

"I've been waiting for you."

You watched him pressed the small button he was holding and a familiar intro music played, making yourself choke from not spilling any laugh. Caleb soon sang the first line as he struck a dramatic pose to imitate a peacock. "I'm bringing sexyback, yeah!"

Your shoulders shook, hands covering your mouth as Caleb smirked pulling out a rose from a vase on the nearby table in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows as he rolled his upper body and arms to the side akin to mimic the wings.

"Caleb, what in the actual fuck are you doing..." You managed to asked, biting your lower lip from bursting into a laughter. All the stress from earlier that you had totally disappeared as you watched him.

"Seducing you to mate with me." He simply answered as he continued to dance. Most of his steps are random and ridiculous. "Is it working?"

"I must say. It IS working." With a huge grin, you shamelessly ogle at his toned arms before taking a step back when he began hopping to you, his arms slowly as he continued to dance.

"Come here, girl." He grinned, doing a double arm hip thrust, resulting in you finally losing it as you sink down to the floor wheezing. Caleb followed in suit as he went down waving his arms in the air side to side.

"Caleb, stop..." You coughed as you struggled to speak from laughing. His dance steps contain mostly hip and chest thrusts, arm waves, head rolls, body rolls, and any other movement that mimics any male bird mating dance he knows. Right now, hovering atop of your shaking frame, his arms were spread wide, arched inwards as he alternatively moves it on either side of your body up and down like a mad man.

Soon enough after seeing you are almost on the verge of fainting from laughter, he carried you without warning inside the living room, making you sit down at the couch. The music at this point was finished and another familiar yet sensual music. Wet the Bed by Chris Brown.

You bulged your eyes open once you felt mood in the air changed all of a sudden as soon as the intro started.

"O-Oh boy... Caleb...?" You uttered, chuckling nervously seeing the all too familiar glint in Caleb's purple eyes. He slowly unbuttoned the crochet vest as he once more began dancing, this time slowly along the vibe.

Despite the dance steps being so ridiculous, his confidence definitely sold it. Oh, how you knew you are so fucked seeing the smirk grace his lips, remembering how hard you laughed at him earlier.

You were sitting so still akin to a rock with your eyes on him, watching him slowly stalk towards you. He slowly climbed over your lap, staring down at you, cheeks red and eyes narrowed as sweat dripped down his face and chest. Your hands shyly wandered to his hips, pursing your lips. cheeks as the highlight of the song arrived on cue.

You gulped as he began dancing again, atop of your lap. Mind in conflict on where exactly to put your hands until you felt him hold them as he suggestively made them wonder down there, making you gasp and sink further in the couch if that were possible.

Leaning down close to your ear, he whispered. "It seems my dance was successful. Shall we commence to the mating?" He mischievously nipped on your ear as your hands silently began wondering by themselves. Caleb took this as your silent agreement as he watched your eyes also wonder over his body with a smug expression.

Oh, how you mentally pray you'll be able to walk the next day or rather to be able to move an inch.

[slippinninque]

🎄A Small Exchange 🎁

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry hopes for the best

Warnings: Fluff!! Self indulgent fic, soft!Terry, may need some edits

It’s been a nearly half a year since Terry has joined this club and he’s never been as unprepared to face you as he was now. This went beyond tangled yarn and nonsensical stitch counts...

The gift bag hung from his fingers. Pretty and heavy and decorated with a festive scene staring field mice having a lovely dinner. Aside from the main attraction that he made with his own two hands–Terry threw in a few other festive trinkets. Christmas socks, a candle, a box of chocolates is as far as he got before his cousin took a away his shopping basket.

Across the small room he watched you help a youngster with their tangled hook. You had little wreaths as earrings, antlers, and a painted nose that went perfectly with your chunky knit sweater and fleece leggings. Dressed perfectly for both the low temperatures and incoming holiday–Terry was nearly on his knees from every adorable jingle-jangle that came from you.

All too soon it was his turn. Facing your encouraging smile as he waved him closer, wondering aloud who the lucky person was before the bag was nearly shoved into your hands. Terry stood at attention and two near by regular attendees crowded close as well.

The blanket was made to Terry’s size. He wanted to be sure that you remained warm. This made the blanket queen-sized–he realized the scale when you unfurled it and oop-ed at the plop of fabric onto the carpeted floor.

The others in their circle ooh-ed and Oh, Terry!-ed when you held up the blanket he’s spent the last two months crocheting just for you. Terry’s hands locked tighter before him as he felt his face heat up at the praise.

It was just like the picture you shared to the group nearly half a year ago. More or less. A soft, blushy middle circle fading into a solid, square frames. Instead of the light blues and pinks, Terry went with a soft purples of varying shades that he imagined would be beautiful against your skin. 

Terry realized that you were staring at him now, mouth agape. 

“Erm, I may have been a bit heavy handed with the increases…” he cleared his throat and you snickered, coming out of your speechlessness.

“I–Terry–this…”

He took a step towards you but turned to the rest of the crochet circle you lead. Eyes, bespectacled and otherwise, moved away as enthusiastic gift exchanging continued around the both of you. You looked at him and laughed again, embarrassed. Gathering the blanket back, you nodded towards two chairs and a small popup table pulled a little bit away from the group’s main spot.

Terry exhaled deliberately through his nose then followed. Terry laid his life on his iron sights more than once but never had he felt the energy coursing through him now. Wanting your approval, torn between not wanting to get his hopes too high but craving your thoughts on his work. 

Ever since you made him pay for not moving from a reserved seat for one of your students, you shoved a hook in his hand and dared him to put it down. Literally.

“I mean, unless you want to be the scary-frown man to the incoming grannies?” 

He realized how childish he was being by refusing to move from the seat, but he was too deep in enjoying your wit. Dry as ice can be when annoyed, warm as smiling cheeks when happy. It’s what kept him coming back to your Crochet Club every chance he got, until he had a lopsided scarf all of his own.

It was then time for another project and once the idea for a gift for you appeared–Terry couldn’t shake it. 

“I can’t believe you did this…I am…'thank you’ isn’t enough.” You said to him, placing the fluffy monstrosity onto the table, “It’s going directly to my bed when I get home.”

“It’s only a compliment to your teaching.”

“Oh no, this is something about that stubbornness of yours–” You trailed off and your eyes squinted at him. Terry returned the squint, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“...Were you pretending to be that bad in the beginning or were you playing with me this whole time?”

“What would you say? Do I seem the type to play helpless?” 

“Okay Mr. Ergomatic grip. You know no one else in the group uses one–

“Yes. I kno–

“Not even  Ms. Sheila…”

Terry rose a brow at you and put a hand warningly onto the blanket, face cool but his eyes crinkled at the corners. Undeterred by his impressive poker face, you held onto the plush corners and pleaded for his forgiveness.

“No, no! Okay, I’m sorry–your old-man hook is the coolest, I swear!”

“Mhm. I don’t think I believe you.” 

“Wait, here–maybe this can buy me back my Christmas miracle…”

Terry rose a brow as he watched you crouch down to grab a polar bear printed bag from beneath the table. You cleared your throat a bit, glancing over your shoulder a bit before offering it to him with two hands.

He…honestly wasn’t expecting you to have a gift for him. The group exchanged gifts at different points of the month and he's seen you give out something to just about everyone that you could catch attending.

Money being funny, deals being too good to pass up, or even a novelty item that reminded you of your favorite weirdo. It’s led to Terry getting an assortment of things from the others that leaves warmth in his chest when glances one in his home.

Terry barely looked into the bag stuffed with tissue paper before diving in, pulling out a luxurious cardigan. Dark olive and made of what Terry would guess is cashmere, he was at a loss for words when he held it to the light. Were the stitches sparkling? Or was that just his excitement?

As you went on about how it was cashmere and it took a lot of guessing of his size, Terry only wanted one thing…

He shrugged out of the jacket he still wore. Down to only a long sleeve, the cardigan settled on his form nicely. Terry didn’t feel himself smiling as he smoothed down the length of the cardigan, then held out his arms to note the sleeves ended right here he preferred. Rising his arms next, Terry could not feel a draft as he normally would have if wearing the standard fit.

Your voice was shy as you asked, “How’s it feeling?” 

“It fits perfectly.” Terry had to stop himself from rubbing along the sides of the cardigan, only to discover–

“It has pockets!” He looked down in surprise as his hands slipped into the squares and you laughed, delighted as you confirmed that it indeed had pockets. 

Now it was Terry’s turn to be speechless. He could picture your hook flying through the yarn, your glasses perched low on your nose as you either listened to a friend or podcast. Hundreds and hundreds of stitches done by you personally, all because you had Terry in mind. 

He was sure that, at some point, you both probably had a spool of yarn in your laps as you thought about each other. Terry knew he had you in mind with every step--all the way to hoping and praying the yarn wouldn't be too stressed up against his callouses.

He wondered what you were thinking of when sewing those pockets at the perfect height to meet his hands.

The two of you watched each other now, touched but unable to find the words. It was a sweet tension that Terry has never felt before and from the way you’re looking at him–Terry wanted to know what you were thinking. Surrounded by the sounds of merriment of the others and the Christmas music playing, it made him feel bold.

“Not sure what you have planned after this,” Terry said, “But I…was considering Ms.Sheila’s suggestion on seeing the Christmas lights on 3rd avenue."

“There’s a pretty spot there that’s 24/7 that does breakfast-for-dinner like no other.”

“Hm. Sounds just fine to me.”

The smile on your space begged to be kissed but Terry settled for reaching out and tweaking an antler, it's bright ringing matching the twinkle in your eyes.

You startled at remembering the rest of the world when the playlist went from a slow and jazzy to a startling pop rendition of O, Holy Nights. Terry smiled to himself as he watched you hurry over to the group that has loosely started twisting yarn without the two of you, the knowing glances and cheeky grins following after your flustered motions. 

Terry looked down at the gift in his hands and with the thought of what was to come–he entered the circle after you.

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

⭐ending notes:⭐ it was a bit hard to feel festive this year, so sorry for being MIA for a bit! 🥹Here is my first Terry Richmond fic as a gift that I hope you all enjoy! I couldnt get the image of this big beautiful menace with yarn and a hook in his hands 🤣 please comment and reblog! Would y'all like more about him from me?

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings

@thickeeparker @mcondance @blowmymbackout

(I'm sorry, Im not exactly sure who to list 🫣)

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Three

Lines are beginning to blur between you and Anakin.

◂ chapter two ▸ chapter four

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.2k | read on ao3

warnings: alcohol, age-gaps, body image insecurities (anakin), sexual fantasies/content, swearing, a little bit of mean anakin

“Tell me everything! Is he everything you thought he’d be? Totally dreamy? All stoic and boss-like? Oh, what does he smell like? Expensive?” 

Your best friend has barely taken off her shoes before bombarding you with questions about your first day working for Anakin Skywalker. You give her a welcoming hug before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. “Come on, I’ve already opened a bottle of wine.” 

Two empty glasses stand next to a middle-shelf Pinot Gris on your coffee table. Sabine takes it upon herself to pour the wine and pulls the granny square blanket from the back of your couch over her lap. She looks like she’s settling in for a bedtime story. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me.” 

You situate yourself on the opposite end of the couch and slip your legs under the blanket. You take a small sip of wine before attempting to answer any of Sabine’s questions. Your first day at Skywalker Enterprises went by in a blur. Meeting your boss was not at all how you imagined it would go. It was all so clumsy. Anakin seemed more like an embarrassed school boy than the confident CEO you were expecting. He looked like he saw a ghost when he saw you sitting behind your desk. And then, in the car on the way to his house, he addressed your butt. 

“Let me know if your butt gets too toasty,” he said. It was so incredibly adorable because you could tell he let a little bit of his guard down when he said it. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. Because no sensible boss should talk about his assistant’s butt. Especially not when you’ve only just met each other. You found it endearing. 

But then, after the initial awkwardness faded and you continued talking to each other throughout the day, there was a sense of familiarity about him. The structure of his sentences when he spoke reminded you of someone. You’re just not sure who. 

“He’s not really what I thought he’d be like.”

“How so?” Sabine asks. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, unable to explain the stirring of feelings and emotions in your chest. “He’s… he was sort of awkward when we first met. Like, stuttering and fumbling over his words. Almost as if I made him nervous.” 

Sabine nods slowly with her eyes narrowed. “Go on…” 

“Well, that’s crazy, right? The fact that I could’ve made him nervous?” 

“Not necessarily. Look at you. You didn’t have a successful OnlyFans page for nothing.” 

“Yeah, but he’s in his forties,” you emphasize. You remind yourself of his age nearly every minute to remember how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your boss. Applying for the job was such a bad idea. What made you think you wouldn’t be attracted to him when you saw him in person? Your cheeks get hot as you think about him rounding the car to open your door once you got back to the office after dropping off his son’s pants at school. It was just a common courtesy, not a sign of interest. But damn, was it nice to be on the reciprocating end of something gentlemanly.

“And he’s a dad! I shouldn’t be making dads nervous,” you add. “I mean, I saw a picture of his wife at his house. She was stunning. Stunning, Sabine. High cheekbones, a nice straight nose, a gorgeous smile…” 

“Wait, he’s married?!” Sabine sets down her glass. 

“Widowed.” 

“Oh,” Sabine says sadly. Then her eyebrows perk up. “Oh.” 

“Don’t,” you hold up your finger. “Don’t give me that look. He’s my boss.” 

“But you like him,” Sabine sings. “And from what it sounds like, he likes you too.” 

You cannot let Sabine put the idea of Anakin Skywalker, engineering millionaire, having a measly little crush on you. Because it’s absolutely absurd. He’s him and you’re… you’re just a girl who was uploading videos of herself masturbating for money just last week. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work. It’s empowered you in so many ways, but it was time to find something a bit more steady and reliable. And less physically taxing, to be perfectly honest. 

“Sabine, be serious. I-” your phone pings with a distinct tone that makes you pause. 

New Message from Skyguy81 

“Oh, my God,” you say. 

“What?” Sabine asks. 

“It’s Sky,” you answer her while opening the message.

Sabine eagerly crawls on top of you to peer at your screen. “Sky as in Rich Guy Sky? Did you upload a new video or something? What did he say?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I haven’t uploaded anything since last Thursday. Get off of me so I can read his message.” 

Sabine retreats to her side of the couch as you begin reading to her. 

“I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.” Your tongue feels like sandpaper and your heart is in the bottom of your throat. 

“Oh, shit!” Sabine exclaims. “You’ve got this boy whipped! Honestly, you should just keep making videos for him. He was your best tipper, anyway.” 

“He’s never… he’s never messaged me out of the blue before.” You chug down the last of your wine, thinking you may need some liquid courage for whatever conversation is about to unfold between you and Sky. 

“He wants you,” Sabine says simply. “Make it happen.” 

“I can’t just meet up with someone from OnlyFans. It’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen.” 

Sabine rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so cynical.” 

“I’m not being cynical, I’m being logical,” you counter. You’d be foolish to risk your life by meeting up with Skyguy81. No matter how nice and genuine he seems over private messages. No matter how much money he has tipped you. There is no guarantee he’s not absolutely creepy and going to kidnap you.

Okay, so maybe you watch too much true crime. That’s why you have to balance it out with The Great British Bake Off. 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” Sabine finishes her wine, “you never know. He could be the love of your life.” 

You’re quiet as you contemplate the love of your life. Sabine is the romantic. You’re the realist. You have a hard time believing there’s one person in the world who you’re destined to be with. How do you explain Anakin losing his wife? Was she the love of his life? Is he not supposed to move on and potentially find happiness with someone else? None of it makes sense to you and it’s quite possibly because you’ve never been in love. 

And the image of the person who you might like the opportunity to love is entirely unavailable. 

.

.

.

It’s times like tonight when Anakin wishes he didn’t raise such inquisitive, curious children. Leia is simply chock-full of questions about her dad’s new assistant. When do they get to meet her? Soon. Is she old like Auntie Dorothy? No. Does she like vintage Disney movies? (Anything before 2010 is “vintage” to Leia). I don’t know. 

Luke, on the other hand, was very disappointed to learn that you were in the car while his dad dropped off a new pair of pants. “You made her wait in the car like a dog?” 

Anakin snorts. “I wouldn’t quite say like a dog, Luke. I was gone for less than five minutes.” 

“Did you at least roll down the window? So she could have fresh air?” Leia joins in on the comical idea of their dad leaving his assistant in his car like a pet. 

“That’s enough out of you two,” Anakin says through a grin. These 9 year olds, man. What is he going to do with them? 

Luke and Leia nod, going back to stabbing their dumplings with their chopsticks. 

“I have one last question.” Leia watches her dumpling precariously dangle on the edge of her chopstick. 

“What is that, princess?” Anakin asks.   

“Is she pretty?” 

Anakin’s pulse is going to burst. It’s a simple question- one that always seems to be on the tip of Leia’s tongue. She wants a woman figure in her life. Soon, she’ll be at the age that is easier to navigate with a maternal presence. Anakin is really not equipped to talk her through menstrual cycles. 

But it’s the nature of who his new assistant is that makes him feel so exposed. He can’t very well tell his children you’re the most beautiful woman he’s seen since his wife. And he definitely can’t tell them that you’ve been in his life not since this morning, but since three years ago when he downloaded OnlyFans. 

Anakin cleans the corners of his mouth with his napkin while he formulates an appropriate response. He’s kept his answers short and simple because if he thinks about you for too long, your figure seeps into his vision, your voice burns in his ears, and he’s unable to focus. 

He feels like such a sleaze for getting hard just by thinking about you. You are so much more than a sexual object. And trust him, he can’t wait to learn about all that makes you you. But morals be damned. He wants you desperately. 

“Yes, Leia. She’s quite pretty,” Anakin finally answers. 

Leia can’t help but dance excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

“I could’ve met her today,” Luke mumbles. “If Dad hadn’t locked her up in the car.” 

Anakin is laughing now. “I have a feeling you are going to be bringing this up for a while.” 

After dinner, the kids clear the dishes and load what they can into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Anakin does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. 

.

.

.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.

Now being 10 pm, it’s been 3 hours since Anakin— or rather, Skyguy81— sent you that message. 

And you still haven’t replied. But you read it. 

And the fact that you’ve read the message but decided not to reply makes Anakin feel so incredibly foolish. What was he thinking? What was he expecting from you? More meaningless flirting? 

Except now it’s not meaningless for him. He’s not sure if it was ever meaningless. But now that he knows who the woman behind HoneySuckle is, it’s completely different. You have a name— which he had to look up in employment records because he’s convinced he actually blacked out when you introduced yourself. You have passions and interests, favorite snacks, and a go-to karaoke song. He wants to know it all. 

And even though he’s going to see you tomorrow, he couldn’t resist the urge to message you on OnlyFans. But since you’ve opted not to reply to him, he’s now wallowing like a teenage boy. 

Ridiculous. He’s better than this, goddamnit! 

Finally deciding to stop staring at his phone, Anakin strips down to take a shower. It’s hard for him not to feel disappointed when he looks at himself in the mirror. Arguably, he’s still in great shape. He lifts weights at the gym at least twice a week, sometimes three if he has the time. He doesn’t have a beer belly, which he considers an accomplishment at his age. But he does have some extra fat around his love handles. He has sun spots on his shoulders from the countless pool days when the twins were younger. And then there are the undeniable lines around his eyes, which are incredibly prominent when he smiles. 

Anakin has never felt particularly insecure about his image before. He’s accepted that his body is not the same 20 year old body it once was. But there’s a new nagging insecurity in the back of his mind.

Is it good enough for you? 

Anakin turns on the water in the shower, needing to wash away all delusions of you and him ever getting together. As soon as he steps one foot on the tile, his phone buzzes. He grabs his phone off of the counter and his heart rate immediately ticks up. 

Hi Sky, I’m sorry for the delay. I had a friend over. Here’s a special little something for you ;) 

Attached is a picture of you on your bed, sitting on your heels with the thin straps of your panties pulled over your hips. You’re lifting an oversized t-shirt above your breasts, which also expertly hides your face. Right. Because you don’t know that he knows who you are. 

Still, the picture was worth the wait. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cock is already standing upright, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. He focuses on your hard nipples, picturing himself enclosing his mouth around one of your mounds. He’s rolling his tongue over your bud while massaging your other breast. Your hands are in his hair and you’re anything but silent. You’re moaning his name, begging for more, whining for him to put his cock inside of you. 

Anakin is too preoccupied to even reply to you. He gets himself under the steady stream of hot water and grabs the base of his length. Now he’s picturing you on top of him, tits bouncing in his face while you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Mmm, yes! Anakin, please. Feels so good.” 

Your hands are pressed against his strong chest for support. He loves you like this— in control but still pathetically needy for his dick. “How much do you love it?” he asks. “Tell me how much you love this cock inside of you.” 

You throw your head back when he slaps both of your ass cheeks. He grabs onto your flesh firmly and your cunt clamps around him while you proclaim it to be the best feeling in the world. “I love it so much, Ani. Nobody's cock feels as good as yours.” 

“Damn right,” Anakin grits. He holds your chin with a strong hand, forcing you to look at him. “This pussy is mine. You understand that?” 

“Yes, sir,” you moan as Anakin bucks his hips up, hitting deep inside of you. “Only yours.” 

“Yes, sir,” huh? That’s a new kink unlocked. Anakin presses a palm on the shower wall to steady himself as he cums. It’s anything from pretty. It happens suddenly and quickly, thanks to the vivid images he was creating in his mind. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. But your name is rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. As if it’s always been in the recesses of his mind, just waiting to be said intimately and passionately. 

He tries to list off the hundreds of reasons why he should never utter your name in a less than professional manner while shampooing his hair. 

You’re his assistant.

You’re significantly younger than him. 

The power imbalance (see 1 and 2). 

That’s all he can come up with for now and it’s enough. Nothing good will come out of pining for you and fantasizing about you. It still doesn’t stop him from messaging you back after he gets out of the shower and settles in bed. 

Now I feel guilty for not responding sooner. Thank you for the spectacular photo. It is unfortunate that I had to take matters into my own, ahem, hands. I would have much preferred to have your help. 

You flatter me, Sky. Do I really get you that worked up? 

Impossibly so. 

When you said you thought about me at work… What exactly did you mean? 

To be perfectly blunt, you were bent over a desk with your skirt pushed over your ass. I was fucking you well and hard, with my name being the only thing falling from your pretty lips. 

Anakin lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why does he keep putting himself in situations that result in an erection? He just needs to have a good fuck. Get it out of his system. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But under no circumstances will it be with you. 

I think I’d like that very much. 

Goddamnit. Anakin needs to stop while he’s ahead. While he’s not succumbing to jerking off for a second time tonight. This was a disastrous idea. Because now when he sees you at work tomorrow, he’s going to think about how you would like for him to fuck you over your desk. Except you don’t actually know that it’s him who wants to fuck you over your desk. 

Maybe in another life. 

Anakin leaves it at that. He puts his phone on do not disturb and attempts to get some reading in before going to sleep. He also prays for G-rated dreams. 

.

.

.

The morning fog of late November in Northern California is still hanging in the air when you get to work at 8 am. Anakin won’t be in until he drops off Luke and Leia which means he should arrive around the same time he did yesterday. It gives you an hour to go through voicemails, reply to emails, and brew a pot of coffee in the breakroom. 

Ben Kenobi arrives shortly after you, sharply dressed in dark blue slacks, caramel leather Oxfords, and a white collared shirt with small polka dots that match the color of his pants. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kenobi,” you greet.  

“Please, call me Ben. No need for formalities around here,” Ben replies. “You’ll soon see we operate very much like a family. There will be shouting and likely some name calling, but it’s all in the name of love for engineering and innovation.” 

“Got it,” you nod. “It’s just that Dorothy always called Mr. Skywalker by, well, Mr. Skywalker. And yesterday he didn’t tell me to call him otherwise.” 

Ben strokes his nicely groomed beard. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you can continue to address him as such until he tells you to call him Anakin. Which I’m sure he’ll do this morning when he gets in. Have you brewed the coffee yet?” 

“Not yet.” you stand. “I wanted to check messages first, but coffee is next on the list.” 

“Excellent.” Ben follows you into the breakroom. “How are you enjoying your time here?” 

“Well, it’s only been a day,” you remind him with a light lilt to your voice. “But it’s been good! Everyone I’ve met is super friendly.” 

Ben leans back against the counter, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. “And you and Anakin? You two getting along? He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” 

You nearly spill the coffee grounds as you bring the spoon up from the container to the machine. “No!” you say a little too loudly. “I mean, no. He’s been very nice. Quiet, but nice.” 

“Anakin? Quiet?” Ben almost laughs. “I’ve never heard that word used to describe Anakin before.” 

“Oh.” you continue scooping grounds into the machine. How many spoonfuls are you supposed to put in? You’ve lost count. Maybe two more for good measure. You’d rather make the coffee too strong than too weak. Nothing is worse than weak coffee. “Maybe I caught him on an off day. He did seem a little weird when he brought me to his house. And then I sort of told him off in the car…” 

This gets Ben away from the counter and walking over to you. “You did what?” 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him off per se. I just asked him to give me a chance. It seemed like he’d already made a decision about me and we’d only known each other for a couple of hours.” 

“Good for you,” Ben replies. “Anakin is headstrong but he can be reasoned with. If the reason is worth being reasoned over.” 

“Am I?” you ask. “Worth being reasoned over?” 

Ben appears to give you a once over and then nods once. “Yes, I’d say so.” 

“Thanks…” you say with uncertainty. Ben takes himself and his briefcase to his office, which is the next door over from Anakin’s. He leaves you alone in the breakroom with a dozen questions. Was Ben assessing your appearance? Surely not for himself. He’s insanely in love with his wife— the mayor. Then who for? Anakin? No. No way. 

The coffee has begun to brew— the nutty notes of Philz Philtered Soul bringing you back to your college days. There’s one in walking distance from campus and you and Sabine spent every finals week there chugging back Mint Mojitos and Mocha Tesoras. 

Those days were not that long ago for you. For Anakin, on the other hand… 

You shake your head, effectively shaking thoughts of Anakin taking any interest in you away. And why would he have an interest in you? He’s bound to have a list of more age-appropriate women he can bring home to his children. 

Stop thinking about it. 

But it’s so damn hard not to. A forbidden office romance with your boss who’s 20 years your senior? Yeah, it’s cliché and sort of sounds like the plot to a porno but it’s sort of fun, too. As long as you keep yourself in check, what’s the harm in pretending like he’s secretly in love with you and wants to take you home? 

.

.

.

When Anakin gets into the office, he doesn’t even greet you before saying, “Call Rose. Tell her to come as soon as possible.” 

So much for him being nice yesterday. Now he won’t even look at you. “Who’s Rose? What- what is the appointment for?” 

“You don’t need to know what it’s for,” Anakin snaps. “Just find Rose in your little phone book, call her, and tell her I need to see her immediately.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you say while thumbing through the contacts Dorothy left behind for you. Without another word, Anakin goes into his office and slams the door. 

What the hell was that about? That was once again another awkward morning of Anakin slamming his office door after talking to you. You thought you left work on good terms yesterday. What changed? 

.

.

.

Rose Montgomery arrives 47 minutes after you call her. You hear her Louboutins clicking on the floor before you see her. Your eyes trail up from her long legs to her slim waist and perky boobs until you reach her face. Good Lord. She is strikingly beautiful. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. As she walks closer to your desk, you are drawn to her perfectly round green eyes. She’s like the real-deal Jolene from Dolly Parton’s hit song. Seriously, did she grow up being called Jolene solely based on her looks? 

“Aw, look at you,” Rose smiles down at you. “You must be the new Dorothy.” 

“I suppose I am.” 

“Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.” 

Uh… What the hell are you supposed to say to that? “I’ll let Mr. Skywalker know you’re here.” 

“No need,” Rose informs. “I’ll let myself in.” She begins to walk away with an extra sway to her hips. You want to hate her but she’s got such an air of confidence that you actually want to be a little more like her. 

“Oh, um, actually I’m not sure about that,” you come out from behind your desk. “He seems to be in a mood so I don’t want you barging in his office to make it worse.” 

Rose turns on her heels and purses her lips. “Actually, sweetheart, I’ve known him longer than you and this isn’t my first ‘appointment’ with him. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go make his mood a little better.” 

Okay. Now you hate her. With that, Rose leaves you standing outside of Anakin’s office with a dumbfounded look on your face. Is that… is she… a booty call? 

All of the insinuations are there; from the air quotes around “appointment” to the way she said she’ll make Anakin’s mood better. Coupled with her outstanding looks, you’ve decided that Rose Montgomery is a friend with benefits of Anakin Skywalker. You trudge back to your desk and do your absolute best not to think about what’s happening behind your boss’s door. 

.

.

.

At the sound of his door opening, Anakin quickly closes his computer tab and turns off the monitor. He pulls his headphones off of his head and puts them in the drawer. 

Rose is none the wiser as she drops her Birkin bag on the table beside the chaise. “Ugh, who is that child you have sitting behind Dorothy’s desk?” 

“My new assistant,” Anakin answers through a dry throat. Rose sits herself on his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She begins playing with the ends of his curls, which normally, he would enjoy. But he really just wants to get this over with. He draws down the zipper of her black dress while she kisses along his jaw. 

“She seems incompetent,” Rose says between kisses. “What is she? Like, 15?” 

Anakin twirls Rose’s hair around his fist and yanks her face away from his. This makes her gasp with pleasure, and despite his annoyance, he loves the reaction he gets from her. “I didn’t fucking ask you here for your opinion on her. Do not talk about her again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Rose breathes. “Where do you want me?” 

“On your knees.”

.

.

.

When Rose leaves Anakin’s office, you can absolutely tell she and Anakin had sex. Did she even bother looking in the mirror or her phone camera before coming out? She avoids looking in your direction at all costs and knowing how awkward those walks of shame can be after a one night stand, you decide not to watch her walk to the elevator. 

You busy yourself in a filing cabinet until you hear Anakin’s door open again. You tell yourself not to look up because if you look up at him you might actually burst into tears. Which makes absolutely no sense to you but you feel that stinging in your nose and you’re trying to think of the time you got Panini because at least those were happy tears. 

Anakin says your name. 

Damnit. Get it together. You take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. At least he doesn’t look like he just had sex. His hair is combed back the same way it was when he walked in and his clothes are wrinkle free. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?” 

“Would you like to go get lunch?” 

It’s only 10:45 but of course, he’d be hungry after having sex. “Oh, sure. What can I get you?” 

“I meant me.” 

You furrow your brows together. “Sorry?” 

“I mean us. You and me, together. Fuck,”  Anakin mumbles that last part. It’s like he loses the part of his brain that forms proper sentences when he looks at you. Think back to the car, Anakin. Things weren’t so bad in the car. Wait, yes they were. He told you to tell him if your butt got too toasty. 

You can’t help but smile as you start to see the Anakin who let his guard down in the car. He’s nothing like the Anakin who walked into the office this morning. “You want me to get lunch with you?” 

“Yes. If you would like.” 

You grab your thrifted black leather bag and your coat off of the back of your chair. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

I think I’d like that very much. 

That is the second time you’ve said that to Anakin. 

On the drive to the farm to table restaurant he suggested, he thinks about telling you the truth. That he’s Skyguy81 and you’ve been messaging each other for three years. Oh, and that he’s seen you naked. 

He weighs all of the pros and cons and all of the ways the situation could play out if he tells you. He decides the only way it’s going to end is with you quitting and never wanting to see him again. Telling you who he is is out of the question. 

Your face is buried in the menu, effectively blocking you from looking at Anakin. Your nerves are irritably on fire as you sit knee to knee with your boss. You go out to lunch with someone to talk. To get to know them. But you have no idea what to talk about with him. Either he’s super blunt or incredibly awkward and you don’t know what to make of it. 

Could Sabine be right? Does he have a crush on you? Do men in their forties even get crushes? 

“You are awfully quiet behind there,” Anakin finally says. “Are you hiding from me?” 

You slam your menu down nervously. “What? Oh, no. Just… looking at all of the options.” 

“I’m kidding,” Anakin chuckles. “If it helps, Leia likes the poke rice bowl. Luke likes the flatbread with artichokes. And I normally just get a burger.” 

“Wow, a 9 year old who likes poke? You’ve got some interesting kids.” 

“You have no idea,” Anakin replies bashfully. He really calms down when he talks about his kids. Maybe that’s your key to him. Keep him talking about his kids. 

“Well, I think I’ll try Leia’s favorite. Do your kids enjoy trying different types of food?” 

Anakin gives you a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose so. I didn’t raise them to be picky eaters. They eat what I eat. We had dumplings last night. They’re shit at using chopsticks but it makes for an entertaining meal.” 

You laugh along with him, feeling yourself relax the more you see Anakin relax. “I love dumplings!” 

“Yeah? We’ll have to have you over some time for dumplings, then.” Anakin doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until it’s hanging between you, awaiting your response. 

“That would be nice,” you admit. “I can’t wait to meet them. Of course, you know… if they even want to meet me.” 

“Are you kidding? Luke almost threw a fit over me leaving you in the car yesterday. And Leia… well, Leia gets excited about any new woman in my life. I mean, not that you’re my new woman, just you know, in terms of you being Dorothy’s replacement and-” 

You place your hand over Anakin’s without a second thought. And it’s more than just skin on skin. It’s electric. You resist the urge to pull away because the overwhelming feeling almost keeps you from saying: “It’s fine, Mr. Skywalker. I get what you mean.” 

Anakin is looking down at your hands and you wonder if he feels it too. Or if it’s entirely inappropriate to put your hand on his and he’s going to go back to being standoffish. You remove your hand from his and sit on it. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Anakin murmurs. “Mr. Skywalker. I would much prefer you to call me Anakin.” 

You look up at him timidly. He’s being sincere. One corner of his lips are quirked up to form a sideways smile and your heart— your stupid, stupid heart adores it.  Perhaps there is harm in pretending like your boss is in love with you. Perhaps keeping yourself in check is going to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Because now that you’re on a first name basis with Anakin Skywalker, you fear simply being his assistant is not going to be enough.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter four (coming soon)

[aurumjank]

I'm going a little bit crazy... 😂 I decided that I'll try a bunch of stuff and then decide if I'm going to do anything with this knowledge. So... Ta-da!

I want to try and make a flower next 🌸

I tried crochet for the first time. How am I doing?..

I read a fanfic last year that inspired me to try knitting. I decided to reread it, and this time it inspired me for this. What's next? I'll start writing?

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 2 -Feet on the ground

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

No specific warnings in this one (apart from Biker!Bucky of course). Some brief references to grief. Sorry it's on the shorter side, just need to set up our story. Thanks to all who have reblogged/commented, it means a lot!

You sipped your drink as you told Bucky all about granny and moving into her house. He nodded solemnly as he leaned on the bar and listened intently, the depth of his attention surprising you. You didn’t expect him to be so easy to talk to. Behind you, Wanda and Vis were very obviously pretending to be chatting, while clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Oh yeah, she was a nice lady. I’m sorry for your loss,” Bucky told you with sincerity after you’d finish the whole tale. “She was a tough old gal”.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied quietly, not realising until now what an emotional gut punch it still was to talk about her. “And yeah…she was”.

You cleared your throat and changed the subject. You cocked an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

“So…what’s your deal?”

He grinned, “What’d you mean?”

“You know,” you pointed to his kutte, “all this. You’re one of the top guys, I guess? I’m sorry, I don’t really know the lingo…”

“I’m the President” he smirked and pointed to one of his patches, clearly a little amused by your ignorance.

You peered over at the fabric square. “Mm. So, what, you drive around town on your bikes causing mayhem and throwing darts at women’s butts?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he laughed. “But mostly we’re here, or at the auto shop across town”.

“Busy, busy” you teased. “I’m sure its all legitimate and above board…”

He winked. God, what a dangerous wink. You instinctively knew that wink had ruined lives.

You both exchanged a small smile.

“You’re not afraid of me, huh?” Bucky teased.

“Should I be?” you boldly shot back.

He grinned. “No. But a lot of people are”.

“Well…your aesthetics aren’t super warm and fuzzy”.

“No…guess not”.

You continued to sip your drink as you tried to fight off the nagging voice telling you to back off. God only knows what he gets up to when he’s not at the bar or fixing cars or at whatever other business fronts they had. You didn’t need another dangerous, no-good man in your life…You were only supposed to sort the house out, live quietly for a little while and then leave. Not get embroiled with the locals, and certainly not with the President of a probably criminal motorcycle club…

…and yet…

“So…you working while you’re staying here?” he asked curiously.

“Mm. Maybe. I have some savings. And thankfully the mortgage at my grandmother’s place is paid off, so at least that’s one less thing. But I might get something part time to keep the lights on”.

Bucky smirked and held his arm up to the bar behind you. “Work here”.

You laughed. “What? Yeah, good one…”

“I’m serious. You need extra cash. We apparently need some help here after you tore my poor bartender apart. So why not? Sounds like you have some experience…”

“I do yeah…but…”

“But what?” he asked, a hint of interrogation in his voice.

“Well, I was thinking more like a coffee shop or delivering pamphlets or something. Not working nights with drunks…”

“Oh, but we’re friendly drunks. Plus, the regulars tip well,” he pushed. “You can spend the days working on the house and then do a few evenings here until you move on. It’s perfect”.

You frowned. It was pretty perfect, actually. You thought about protesting, but as you looked back at Bucky’s expression you immediately understood that this was someone who was very used to getting his own way.

“You’re not gonna drop this, are you?” you asked.

“Nope” he responded, popping the ‘p’ and shaking his head.

You sighed, chewing your lip with hesitation.

“Will your club mind? I mean…they don’t know me. All they know is I yelled at one of them”.

“Eh. Everyone yells at Parker”, he shrugged. “You’ll fit right in”.

You frowned, then looked back at him suspiciously.

“But…Why are you doing this? You barely know me. I might be a serial killer for all you know…”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve met a lot of bad guys in my time, Sugar, and trust me, you get pretty good at figuring people out. Plus, I get it, grief is tough, and your grandmother lived here all her life and was a big part of the community. And you’re her family. We do look out for one another here; this is our home after all”.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that answer. Your sceptical side half believed he just wanted to get in your pants, but he sounded sincere regardless.

You looked over at his group who were laughing and drinking jovially, then across the room at the wide range of clientele. You’d certainly had worked at worse places.

Sighing, you turned back to Bucky. “Well…fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not wearing booty shorts or anything ridiculous for a uniform”.

This coaxed a belly laugh from him. “No…only the male bartenders wear those,” he quipped. “Jeans and tees are fine. Maybe a flannel if you really wanna mix it up”.

You nodded. “Okay, I can do that”.

He smiled back at you sweetly, but a hint of something edgier lay beneath. The way he eyed you made you feel…exposed. Like you were a doe caught in the crosshairs. It wasn’t unpleasant, no, in fact it made your lower belly surge, sending a wave of butterflies through you.

“Welcome aboard, Sugar” he grinned.

You smiled back, once again knowing full well you were treading into dangerous territory...but unable to stop yourself.

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

Humming a tune (writing)

Evelyn notices the farmers both seem to sometimes hum to themselves SO she decides to approach the male farmer and ask what tune he's humming in order to get to know him better.

Word count: 1,378 words (so medium I guess)

Characters: Evelyn and Mask Farmer.

Vibe: nice and wholesome moments :) I'm not really experienced in writing but I'll do my best to make it coherent, enjoy! :D and with pictures!

A lovely spring and sunny day welcomed the valley. Evelyn tends to the town square flowers, putting care and attention to each one.

It's the town's flowers after all. The people in the valley need to be represented properly!

It was nice to be out in the center of the town square on days like this. It allowed her to greet anyone who went through, give them a big warm smile, and catch up about what was happening that day. It was also nice to be able to bathe in the sun's warmth and reminisce on the past and how the valley had changed over the years. In came the male farmer with focused eyes, dedicated to a goal in his mind, ignoring everything around him. She could tell he was passing even with her bad vision by the sound of his fast and heavy footsteps, always in a rush. Both the farmers often cross here in the mornings, although Evelyn really only saw the sister out. Both would look at the bulletin board outside of Pierre's shop, check the calendars, and go on with their daily routine but only she would talk to Evelyn and the other townspeople. "Perhaps he's shy," Evelyn thought seeing him walk to the Help Wanted board. He greeted her once when they both first arrived in Pelican Town and he hasn't talked to her since then...or anyone besides for transactional reasons it seemed. Evelyn's face grew sad at the thought. The poor boy was ignored by everyone or treated as an anomaly to be feared and avoided. It didn't seem to bother the farmer but her heart could not let it be. "The flowers can be tended later, it was about time someone bothered to try and have a nice conversation with him" Evelyn thought. She began to walk towards the farmer who was still reading the Help Wanted note and noticed he was humming something. Thinking about it now, the farmers both tend to hum a tune to themselves. It's almost never the same song and seems to change throughout the seasons. "Excuse me, dear" she asked beside the farmer "May I ask what tune you are humming?"

The Farmer jolts in shock and turns towards her. "Oh I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to startle you." Evelyn says apologetically "I was just curious about the songs you hum to yourself, they sound very nice, was it a band back in the city?" He was really expecting anyone to talk to him today so Evelyn's Interruption took him back a bit. He also had a lot to do but her soft genuine smile guilt tripped him to take the time to answer her. "The song doesn't exist." The farmer stated bluntly "Oh"

Not the answer Evelyn was expecting. She had sworn she heard both the farmers hum the same tune.

Very curious she continued "So did you come up with the tune?" "No" the Farmer responds "I hear them In my head." Evelyn's confused expression let him know it made no sense to her but he couldn't really find another way to explain it besides being direct and honest. Maybe he should have lied, he thought. His sister did all the time to explain weird things like this but her genuine curiosity stopped him from lying to her face. Could he really lie to sweet little granny Evelyn? Evelyn saw the farmer's face slightly turn from her in shame. She didn't really understand the answer but she didn't want him to feel ashamed of his response so she softly said "It's ok. I don't need to understand it, do you like the songs? The farmer nods.

"Oh, that's nice to hear, I assume the song changes through the season? do you hear it all the time?" "Yeah..." he responds. She could tell the Farmer was starting to get uncomfortable with her questions so she tried to ease his nerves. "You know...your grandpa used to do the same thing too" The farmer looks at her in surprise "It's true!" she exclaims Evelyn begins to walk to the town flowers gesturing for the farmer to follow. The farmer does so.

"When he used to run the farm, he would whistle songs to himself while he worked" Evelyn reminisced. "Your grandpa used to say he would hear the valley singing to him, he would call it a superpower! Not many of us understood what he meant but by the sounds of it, I guess it was passed down to you"

The farmer smiles and chuckles at the idea. Their Grandpa did used to whistle a lot on the farm. It was only a faint memory since both he and his sister were so young when they used to visit. In a sense, the valley was singing to them.

"If it's not too much, could you hum a bit of the song you hear?" she asked The farmer paused for a second. He looked slightly at the sky and listened. He did his best to match the tune but it was difficult when there was more than one instrument to hum in his head.

Evelyn listened internally and cheered for the farmer once he had stopped. She could tell he was embarrassed by it but genuinely flattered. "You have a very lovely voice dear, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, oh!-" she interrupted herself. "I heard there was a band in town, maybe you should join, I think you would make a lovely addition!" He knew she was talking about Sam's band but he hadn't really talked to the guy... or anyone in that band. Sometimes he saw Abigail up in the mountains or Sebastian taking a smoke break but never really paid them any attention. He never needed to. Evelyn begins to tend to the flowers as she speaks. "You don't need to if you don't want to. I can tell you don't like to talk much, I don't want to pressure you."

She pauses.

"but I can tell you like to listen" The farmer had never really thought about it that way before... but when you don't say much, the only other choice is to listen to the world around you. "I know not many of us can understand you and I've noticed others treat you differently because of that" Evelyn gently places her hands on top of the farmer's hand. "-but I don't want you to feel like you're not part of the town. You will always be welcomed here...no matter how odd you are"

The farmer softly smiled to Evelyn. "Well," Evelyn exclaimed. "I don't want to hold your day up much longer but If you ever want to talk more about your grandpa or just to hear an old lady ramble about the past, I'm always here for you" The farmer is quiet for a second, taking in her words. "Thank you." He says. "Ohhh, no need to thank me, I haven't done anything, sweetie" She replied but the farmer quickly responded. "You did." Evelyn curiously looked at him confused. "You talked to me."

Evelin's heart was touched beyond words as the farmer leaned down to hug her. She squeezed as hard as her weak arms would allow and stayed there for as long as he needed. But the farmer quickly got up, smiled, and began to walk to the mines. They waved each other goodbye and moved on with their days. The warm moment being over just like that. As the farmer walked up the mountain he began to think. It was only a small moment. It had never really bothered him that the town viewed him as a cryptid. He often reveled in being odd, weird, and feared. He didn't have much of an interest in getting to know anyone. But Granny Evelyn had warmed his heart. Maybe he didn't need to be so cold to everyone. Maybe he should stop by and chat before heading to the mines. It's not like the caves are going anywhere. Maybe... ...he'll stop by and get some cookies :)

[my-whimsical-creation]

Finally finished joining the granny squares on this round and I’m really loving the look of this blanket. I‘ll probably throw the blanket on the wip pile for a bit though because I‘ve got tons of yarn left over from the big 6 day star blanket I made as a Christmas gift and want to use some of that up before continuing here

[jewish-tutter]

this is ur sign to make a continuous granny square blanket

it's so easy and rewarding bc. you made something

[woso-dreamzzz]

Uni Love II

Deyna Castellanos x Reader

Summary: You'll follow Deyna anywhere

It was a no-brainer, really.

To follow Deyna from America to Spain. You didn't have roots firmly planted in America anyway, more than happy to disappear across the world with her.

You roll your eyes as girls tumble into your apartment, organised chaos as they strip off their shoes and jackets. You've got a patient file on your lap, jotting down the last of your notes before you slam it shut and place it in your filing cabinet.

"Hola, y/n!" Laia cries as she vaults over the back of the sofa.

You roll your eyes again as you slap her feet off the coffee table and then turn to slap at Elena as she takes a sip from your water. "You are too comfortable in this house!" You declare but they ignore you, fighting over the remote as you make your way to the kitchen.

You lean against the fridge, arms crossed over your chest. "Your teammates are children."

Deyna smiles at you, crossing the space and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "But you love them anyway?"

"I love you," You reply," I can tolerate them." You open the fridge. "And I'm not cooking for them. If they want food, they've got to order it."

Deyna nods, yelling out your orders to the rest of the girls in your lounge. "How was work?"

"Long, boring." You shrug. "The usual. I had a teenager come in today looking for antibiotics to treat an STI." You groan. "And then an old granny who definitely is hooking up with the twenty-year old carer that brought her in."

Deyna winces at you weary tone and pulls you into a hug, letting you rest your head against her shoulder. You slump against her and close your eyes, content to sway back and forth in her arms.

"Oi! Lovebirds!" The voice of Laia cuts through your relaxed bubble. "Can we order sushi?"

"You brought her home," You say into Deyna's shoulder," You talk to her."

"She's not a dog."

"No? One of those yappy terriers? Barks when you're eating dinner? Squares up to the bigger dogs?"

You can hear Laia stamp her foot from where she's waiting for your answer in the doorway. "I'm right here!"

You pull yourself out of Deyna's embrace and run a hand over your face. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"No!"

"No sushi for you." You kiss Deyna's cheek and brush past Laia back to the lounge.

"But! y/n! That's not fair!"

●～●～●～●～

Trading sunny Spain for rainy England had also been a no brainer.

England was always hunting for doctors so getting a job was easy enough and Deyna settling in at City was even easier.

"Don't touch that!" You snap, firmly placing the ice pack back onto Deyna's swollen ankle, having taken a nasty fall at training.

"It's fine!" Deyna whines, trying once again to remove it. "It's cold!"

"It's meant to be cold!" You whirl around to tuck Laia back into the blankets. "You! Stay still!"

"y/n," She whines too but you silence her with a look. She'd come bursting into your home with the chill and you'd immediately tucked her into a seat with a blanket.

"No!"

You glance around the room, happy that your two patients are doing as you say before falling back on the sofa and grabbing the remote, flicking away from the football game playing.

Laia whines at that too but Deyna doesn't. Instead, she leans her head on your shoulder and places a placating kiss on your neck. You lean into her body too, arm moving to wrap around her shoulders as Laia continues complaining.

"Do we have to keep letting her in?" You ask softly as Laia gets tangled in the blankets as she tries to free herself.

Deyna grins at you. "She'll just bang on the door until we let her in again."

You groan, loudly before returning Deyna's smile. "How's your ankle? Feeling better?"

"Freezing."

You roll your eyes. "But better?"

Deyna rolls her eyes too. "Yeah," She admits finally," It does."

You cup your ear and give her a teasing grin. "What was that? Sorry, I can't quite hear you?"

She sighs, loud and drawn out. "Thank you for your unsolicited medical advice."

You flick her ear. "I'm a doctor. You have the pleasure of getting unsolicited medical advice every day."

She rubs her ear but still presses kisses to your lips. You grin at her, surging forward to slip your tongue into her mouth. She kisses back, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Your front door slams open though and you break away, catching Laia's eye (who looks suitably horrified at having seen you and Deyna kissing like that) before turning to look down the hall.

Leila's there - another one of the strays that Deyna's picked up along the way - and you have to suppress a scream of annoyance when you catch the bruise forming along her cheekbone.

"It was an accident!"

[totally-italy]

Y'all, in light of the fact that I have way too many things that I want to do and not enough time, could y'all please help me organise my time?

I have a Latin course from Tuesday to next Thursday, so I do need to revise a bit of Latin, but I also would like to continue making some bookmarks, learn how to crochet and start making granny squares (meaning that I'll probably need more wool my parents are going to be so happy) and read the Iliad.

@ink-through-her-veins, @lucy-loves-history, @officially-dorset, @chronically-online-italian, @france-the-third and all my other mutuals (sorry, I have AuDHD a horrible memory), please help me decide.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Shocking no one, I have a fave join for this. It's a continuous granny join. Here's a blog post with an explanation: https://cypresstextiles.net/2020/07/28/continuous-granny-stitch-join-as-you-go-for-squares/

I really like the join because it's just more granny square stitches, so it's a great join for first granny projects. It's also nice to have a continuous join to work with so you have less ends to weave in.

Starting a new crocheting thread because the old one was getting too long for convenience, I think...anyway, I tried the double crochet stitch for the first time and I think this looks okay(ish) although a bit messy? (But that stitch definitely felt a lot easier than the half double stitch, idk why 🤔) But again, any opinions on it would be appreciated though.