#it really must've been extra terrible for her

[diver5ion]

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Two: "Déjà Brew" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Back in Hawkins, Reader is still reeling from the news she's just received. Turns out, sometimes the love of a mother might just be the very help you need when times are tough. — (Now) At Brew and Me, Reader struggles with the stress of motherhood and working. Turns out, a visit from her least favorite patron might be the thing she needs to cheer her up.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,120

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, mentions of food, mentions of medical-related things, small mention of childhood cancer (not related to any of the main characters in this series), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: ngl, the writing in this chapter sucks but i promise it gets better!!

Originally Written: 10/08/2023 through 10/12/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, June of 1987 ]

You'd been holding onto the knowledge of your pregnancy for roughly two days, and since then, everything had felt upside down.

You'd looked for every reason possible to not see your boyfriend. You only spoke to your mom and siblings when spoken to. And worst of all, despite the human being growing inside of you, you felt absolutely empty.

You truly wanted to be happy about this. After all, a new human life was forming in your stomach. But the pain of anyone in your small town finding out you were a sinner, and the gossip about how you'd thrown your life away for some guy, it was just too much to bear.

So instead of facing your problems, you'd holed up in your room, lights out and window closed. You only left your room to grab snacks—which lay uneaten on your nightstand—and to use the bathroom. To your family, you were a passing ship in the night, a ghost barely seen. And just when you thought you'd run out of tears, more slipped out of your eyes and onto your pillow, which you were holding like your life depended on it.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Joyce knocked on the bedroom door. You'd cried for so long that you lost track of time, only realizing it was afternoon due to the setting sun peeking through the curtains. "Honey?" she called, barely getting the word out before gently opening the door. She must've registered quickly what was happening, closing the door behind herself in record speed. "Honey, what's the matter?" she cooed, a loving hand meeting your shoulder.

It's now or never, you thought to yourself. Pulling yourself up, you wiped the excess tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "Mom," you sniffled, the word sounding weaker than ever, "I've done a terrible thing."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, my sweet," she said, taking your hands in hers. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

You nodded, though you were questioning if that statement really was true, considering the bomb you were about to drop on her. More tears involuntarily slipped down your cheeks, your eyes darting anywhere in the room besides her face.

Joyce ran a soft hand through your hair, clicking her tongue lightly. "Honey, I want you to know that you don't have to feel pressured to tell me what's wrong. But I am always here if you do want to tell me."

You forced the words to come out, and you were nearly hyperventilating before you'd even said them. "I don't really know how to tell you, because I'm not quite sure how you'll take it."

Her lips left a soft peck on your forehead, a silent reassurance that she was there for you. An unsteady breath exited your mouth, before you finally said the dreaded words you'd been thinking about for the last forty-eight hours. "The terrible thing is… I'm pregnant. And I have no clue what to do."

You braced yourself for impact, waiting for her to throw you out into the street or scream at you or slap you or anything really. You'd gone over every possible reaction in the book, hoping to find a rebuttal to each one.

Still, the screams never came and her hand never even touched your skin, other than the moment she pulled you into her side. "Oh, honey," she whispered, a tone of sympathy clear in the words.

Tears started to fall once again as she held you close, a gentle hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. You'd surely covered the both of you in tears and snot, but truth be told, that was the least of your concerns, given the situation.

"Y/N, you're gonna be okay," she reassured. "I promise, there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. And from here on out, there's nothing that is going to stop me from loving this child. I'm going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay?"

Through your crying, you managed to ask, "You aren't mad at me?" Genuine confusion took over you at her response to the news. You'd been convinced she'd be angry, never considering that she was the one becoming a grandmother.

She clicked her tongue again. "No, I'm still very frustrated with you for doing something this irresponsible. But that doesn't mean I don't love you or this baby."

It felt like all the blood had drained from your body as you lay practically limp in your mother's arms. The air was heavy as she waited for you to say something, anything, but the words never came. Words seemed a million miles away as the discovery of life inside you started to feel all too real.

Some time passed before she spoke again—whether it was two minutes or two hours, you didn't know. Her hand rubbed soft lines over your disposed arm, her touch as warm and welcomed as your favorite childhood blanket. "Honey, I've been where you were before. Maybe not exactly your situation, but I know what this feeling is like—the worry of what the dad is gonna think, the anxiety of caring for two people. It's terrifying. But I've got good news for you," she paused, kissing the top of your head. "You don't have to do it alone. Because I'm gonna be right here."

You weren't sure you gave her a response to that. Full-on sobs were now wracking your body, despite her kind words. Your tears flowed and your chest heaved, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to stop. Panic and fear coursed through you, and as much as you wanted to be happy about this baby, the only true feeling you had at the moment was resentment toward yourself.

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

"Max, honey, do you know what time it is?" you asked, quite frantically. "I left my watch at home this morning."

A knock sounded on the counter behind you. "It's time for me to be your boyfriend," Steve said smugly, giving you a smirk as you turned to face him.

Max glared down at her watch, rolling her eyes at the cheesiness occurring in front of her. "Actually, it's almost 7:30," the redhead answered, pulling down the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

A grateful sigh slipped past your lips. "Ah, sweet freedom," you said before turning your attention back to Steve, who was sporting a curiously teasing look across his face. "What? I've got a hot date with a bubble bath and my feet and backbone couldn't be happier."

"Sounds sexy," he snickered.

Max huffed in fake annoyance as she passed the latte in her hand over to the brunette girl on the opposite side of the counter. "Have a nice evening," she smiled, then turned to you and Steve, to which she quipped, "If I had a dollar for every time one of you told the other something that was inappropriate to say in a coffee shop, I'd make enough money to pay off my student loans."

"Hey, it's not my fault your boyfriend is off playing basketball at Princeton and training for the NBA," you shrugged, joking of course.

Max gave you a fake pout. "That is below the barista belt, Y/N. That's just cruel."

You shot her a playful smile, giving her a sisterly pat on the arm. "Why don't you get started on the tables, hon'?"

And with that, Max was grabbing her cleaning supplies and heading to clean off the abandoned tables. You gave Steve your attention once more, curious as to if he was interested in holding up to his end of the bargain.

He surprised you with the response that came out of his mouth. "I will have a salted caramel latte with almond milk," he said proudly, sure that his answer was right. "Are you ready for that date yet?"

Your lips formed into a thin line, a look of regret coming to your face. "I hate to tell you, Doc, but nut allergies are a very common thing in my family."

"You work with almond milk all the time," he rebutted, a hand on his hip.

Your eyes narrowed in on him, not ready to back down from his challenge. "I don't like caramel."

He scoffed. "Who doesn't like caramel?"

You shrugged. "Me."

"Why don't you just admit that I was right and tell me where you wanna go next weekend?"

"Because you're wrong and I'm busy next weekend," you answered, both responses true.

He finally broke eye contact with you to look over at Max. "Hey, Max, is a salted caramel latte with almond mix Y/N's favorite item on the menu?"

"Everyone knows she hates almond milk," she answered. "I'm disappointed in you for not knowing."

His attention turned to you again, his eyes narrowing in on yours. "How do I know she isn't being paid to say that?"

An exasperated sigh left your mouth. "We make five bucks an hour and you expect me to have extra money to throw at Max? No offense, Max."

"None taken," she laughed, still scrubbing away at one of the tables. "I don't have money to throw at you either."

Steve shook his head in some mixture of disbelief and playfulness. "Would you just get me my coffee? To-go, please."

Your brows furrowed as you got to work on the drink. "What's with the to-go order? You hardly ever get your coffee to-go."

"If you must know, I happen to have a hot date of my own," he said vaguely, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sounds sexy," you jested. "Who's the girl?"

"A cancer patient in the PEDS ward."

Your expression went from curious to downright confused at his statement. "Do I wanna know how that constitutes as a hot date?"

"She's got a crush on me so I get asked to sit with her on nights that her mom works," he explained, slipping some cash into the tip jar. "It's a hot date because every time I go in her room, she asks me to crank the heater all the way up. I think that's just because she likes the way I look when I'm sweaty."

A gentle smile appeared on your face as you passed him his latte. You thought about your own little girl, who'd be here any minute, and how much you regretted nights like those where she was left to her own devices, left to stay with your mom or one of your brothers instead of the person she needed most.

You shook off the thoughts, taking the money from his opposite hand and placing it in the cash register. "Have a brew-tiful night and enjoy your date, Doc."

And with that, Steve gave you one last playful smirk and headed out the door, but not before a certain little girl ran past him and over to you. Joyce followed suit behind her as Steve held the door open, then began his journey out to his car and, presumably, the hospital.

"Mommy!" Mandy squealed, running around the counter to greet you.

You picked her up, happier than ever to see her, placing a kiss on her soft hair. "Hey, sweetpea," you smiled, love overflowing from you as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck. "What did you get up to today?"

"Grandma took me to the park!" she answered excitedly, her hazel eyes lit up with delight.

You gasped, playing along with her enthusiasm. "No way! You'll have to tell Mommy all about it."

"Now, don't get mad," Joyce started to say as she walked over to you.

Your brows furrowed. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

A regretful look came across the woman's face, explaining, "We passed an ice cream truck on the way here and-"

"Mom, you know I always give her one of the leftover cake pops at the end of the day. She can't eat too much sugar."

"I know," Joyce said, "but Jon's in town for Thanksgiving so he's offered to give you us both a night off."

It was selfish, but you'd never been so grateful for your brother to be home. You sighed, setting your daughter back on the ground. "Well then, let's put all that energy to use, shall we?"

And with that, Mandy was hot on your trail, following you around as you worked to close up the shop. You just smiled down at the girl, prouder than anyone had ever been to be a mom. Sure, it was biased, but you were quit certain you had the best girl in the whole world.

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[liviavanrouge]

Truth

Paimon: How do we figure the mystery out?

Luna: I have no idea, I feel lost..

Aether: *Smiles down at Luna, knowing how she felt*

???: Traveler, Luna, Paimon!

Kinich: *Walks over with a man beside him* I did some searching and I found one of the workers who witnessed the entire thing..

Junpei: My name is Junpei, I was the one who tried to save her, I don't mind telling you everything, I feel absolutely terrible about what occurred

Kinich: Start from when Oria appeared

Junpei: Of course! Me and a few others were working on getting some loose rocks off one of the cliffs so it didn't become too much of a hazard later on, she was so sweet greeting us and offering us the fruit in her basket

Junpei: Of course, we declined! We had our own food but the offer still touched our hearts

Paimon: She sounds like a sweetie, her brother must've raised her right

Luna: Yeah, yeah! Mr O must be like Big brother Aether, he's taken care of me and taught me ever since he found me

Junpei: *Chuckles* It looks like it, you must be a smart young lady, aren't you?

Luna: I am! Loads of people say so

Kinich: Junpei, can you continue

Junpei: Right! Sorry! Anyway, we asked what Oria was doing, to be polite you know, she said she was gathering flowers to make several handmade gifts for her big brother

Junpei: She came close to the cliff and that's when everything turned for the worst....th-the rocks came loose and immediately fell towards her! I-I used my anemo but it only shattered the rocks more

Junpei: One of the other workers leapt off and tried to grab her once she landed but....we were too late, the rocks crushed that poor girl, three of my friends went off to grab help

Paimon: What happened after that? Do you know how old Oria was at that time?

Junpei: The woman who leapt off was from the same tribe as Oria, she said that Oria was twelve years old..

Paimon: TWELVE!?

Junpei: After that this guy with strange clothing arrived, one look at Oria and he was stunned...he started trying to dig her out, yelling her name

Junpei: Me and another worker pulled him back and tried to calm him down but he went ballistic on us, demanding what happened and why his sister was dead

Junpei: W-We didn't know how to tell him..all we could do was keep him away from the body or he would've gotten more upset if he saw how she looked after she was finally dug out

Junpei: I-I hope this helps, if you have any questions don't be afraid to ask!

Aether: Did you get the brothers name?

Junpei: It was Oro..something, I..forgot it....to be honest, I really wanted to forget that day, I've never felt so guilty

Junpei: H-Had I just leapt down and grabbed her, this could've been avoided!

Luna: You didn't know what would happen, Mr Junpei! Don't be so upset, you tried at least, sir..

Junpei: Thanks for your kind words..but that doesn't help still..

Paimon: How long ago was this?

Junpei: Two months ago

Paimon: IT'S FRESH?!

Kinich: Now you can see why it's become such a surprising taboo topic

Luna: So if we find Mr Oro and get Oria's stuffed animal, we can bring her back, right Big brother Aether

Junpei: Y-You can bring her back?! Really?! Is there anyway at all that I can help!!

Aether: It's not that easy...from what Molimo told us in the dream..

Kinich: Molimo?

Paimon: He lives in the Night Kingdom, can you believe that?! He's been there for 200 years!

Kinich: What...but, that's impossible

Luna: That's what Ms Mavuika and Mr Kilonzo said too!

Paimon: He told us that he has Oria! She's "alive" in a way and he needs our help!

Paimon: He said if we bring an ancient name bearer and Oria's most precious item, he could do some tinkering and make a miracle!

Kinich: Why an ancient name bearer?

Aether: Extra power, Molimo says his abilities have all turned more abyss energy needed...he said it'd also be good to have some dragon power...

Kinich: I'll go.

Paimon: Doesn't Kucho have an ancient name? His dragon powers are also getting there, right, after the battle with the Elder Dragon?

Kinich: I said, I'll go

Paimon: Whoops! Uhm, okay! That's fine!

Junpei: Allow me to help whenever you need it!

Luna: Thank you, mister!

Kinich: *Turns and walks away with Junpei*

Aether: We keep forgetting not to underestimate Kinich when it comes to Kucho..

Paimon: Yeah..he gets scarier...

Luna: Just like Big Brother Aether when it comes to me! Hehe!

Aether: *Smiles and pats Luna's head*

@queen-of-twisted @im-a-bit-deranged-me-think

[lifewithoutmeds]

February 4, 2024

felt the craziness set in again, or rather, firm up, like jello overnight.

the day was ok overall. got in a quick walk before it got cold and rainy. did some dishes, some cleaning. ate healthily: bagel and cream cheese (not so healthy), coffee, shrimp/bellpepper stir fry with one cup of rice, a fuji apple, a handful of baby carrots with sour cream, and am waiting for some boiled eggs to cool for my extra protein. i also went to new abbey and only cried a tiny bit but didn't cry this time during the sharing. partly because one lady monopolized the entire sharing time so i really didn't have an opportunity to.

but mostly i was distressed, i was tortured. i'd keep tearing up, unable to stop this torrent of emotion welling out of me. i felt again the way i did as i drove toward porto's the day after lorena went out with reyna for the first time, scream-crying, ashamed at my smallness, at my weakness. i later learned the word "simp," and i saw myself as a simp in every way, the simpiest of all simps, the king of simps.

i remember seeing a youtube video commentary of this poor guy who was clearly infatuated with this streamer, and all she did was insult him and he took it because it was enough that she was putting up with him, enough that she was next to him, enough that they were sharing space, and when everyone reached out to him to sympathize and tell him he deserved better, he actually defended the girl and said they were friends. and everyone felt so bad for him but also, that he was just another lost cause. and sometimes i feel like that last cause.

i messaged her again today. it's been torrentially raining here in socal and i saw that there was rain projected in SF too, which is where she was performing tonight, so i sent a quick, "i hear it's raining in SF. safe travels!" i didn't want to. i thought i could stop myself. but i did, and i thought at the time, "fortune favors the bold," and i thought there'd be no particular harm. if i didn't, i would be tortured that i hadn't tried reaching out again, and if i did, the worst i'd get is a non response or a short one. they'd all be bad but at least i'd know.

there has been no response. it's been several hours and she's been active on ig and even posted a couple stories. she must've gotten a notification that i messaged her but she's refusing to look at my message. it has not been left on read. it has not been read at all. as expected, i am losing my damn mind. tears keep dribbling out in a terribly embarrassing way.

at church, there was a very interesting question that was posed. and it was about authority. how jesus didn't wait for someone well-versed in the law to give him permission or authority to speak. harriet tubman didn't get special permission to go and free a bunch of slaves. neither did rosa parks. but they all decided, within themselves, that they had the authority, and that they had dignity and they didn't need to bow down to another person's authority when it conflicted with their idea of what was right.

the parting question was something like, what area of your life do you feel like you don't have authority, or something like, what could you do in your life if you had the authority ... something like that. i didn't have a chance to speak, but i mulled over this as some other lady spoke in length.

and i thought. every part of my life. i haven't really ever thought i had authority in ... almost any aspect of my life. i didn't have it at home, where i was the only child, and a girl of religious, conservative, strict immigrant parents. i didn't have it at school where i was short, and asian, not white enough to be a part of the whites, but not brown enough to be considered other, to be a part of the conversation of the oppressed, to get financial aid. i wasn't tall, i wasn't white, i wasn't rich, i wasn't athletic. in elementary school i never got picked for any of the softball or kickball teams. we'd sheepishly look at and kick our feet as the team captains would disgustedly say, "you can have the rest," or "we don't want them" and then we'd sort of just split up amongst ourselves and go to the outfield and never get a ball, or when one did approach, mess everything up by kicking it directly into the arms of the opposing team. it usually seemed like we were some sort of liability, that being there was literally worse than not being there at all.

i wasn't the smart kid, the loud kid, the brave kid. i was considered by some to be funny, but typically i'd just be so nervous and anxious that i'd freeze in the company of the popular kids. i was average and mediocre by most societal norms, and in a way i think i was oppressed and repressed to keep it that way. we were the model minority. we lived in the margins. we deferred to authority, we stayed out of everyone's way, we followed the rules, and we "thrived" relatively, because we didn't ruffle any of the feathers of the ruling class, which actually put us at odds with the serving class and we were seen as traitors.

i feel this even now, as an adult. i'm still not tall, white, rich, or attractive. i still move out of the way when someone approaches on the sidewalk. i will divert to another aisle at the market if it means avoiding some sort of awkward interaction. i bow to authority. i am awestruck by beauty. i just sort of snivel and scamper and stay out of everyone's way, and i've rarely felt any volition or ... or right to do anything else. i see myself as somewhat worthless and meaningless, and that my life doesn't matter, my actions don't matter, and ultimately nothing i do is of any consequence at all. i think that's why i steer clear of politics, of taking some sort of strong stance on social issues. i don't think my opinions matter. i don't think anything will change. i don't think my vote, or my signature on a petition, or my presence in a rally, will do anything. i don't think anyone, even those in "power" can change anything. i don't think anything can really be changed. we're just on a pretty set course to annihilation and all of our actions are moot. we just try to ease the suffering, laugh when we can, huddle close, and wait for death, and hope it will not be too bad.

what authority do i have? i guess i can stand up for whatever i think is "right." harriet tubman was a short lady. and she was not white. i don't think she was particularly well-read. but she had her convictions. what are my convictions? can i be brave? can i thwart the powers that i have felt have oppressed me?

i do want to stand up for those who are suffering. particularly LGBTQIA youth and those who feel like they can't come out. that's the only thing i've ever done with any conviction. to come out. it was that or die, and i wanted to live slightly more than i wanted to die, which is why i'm alive now. i want to help younger versions of me so they don't suffer as much as i did.

i also don't like to see physical suffering. i bought a bunch of sandals and washed a bunch of fleece blankets/throws so that i could hand them out to the homeless downtown when i saw them and thought they had a need. i understand there are wars and famines and crises all over the world, but i do not know if i can help. but i'd like to think a blanket will help on a cold day. that sandals are better than being barefoot. i'm thinking of bringing a can of butane after seeing an old asian homeless lady cooking on her little portable stove in her open tent, and figured she could probably use a refill.

i only work in small ways, but maybe because i feel so small myself. i wonder if i could do bigger things if i felt like i was allowed to, if i had the authority to. hm. food for thought.

oh also, i'm having this issue with airbnb where i wrote a review for this kinda asshole host and then airbnb took it down for "violating the terms" by not writing a review that described the situation or some shit, and then i got really indignant, reached out to customer service, and very sternly explained the situation and emphasized that i didn't want any monetary compensation or otherwise, i just wanted my review to stay up because it was accurate and it was true, and taking it down would really negate the whole point of reviews. and weirdly, that indignation, that commitment to fairness and justice and to declaring what was true actually distracted me from the despair over my latest obsession. righteous indignation won out over my sad puppy love. food for thought.

[grimmsinn13]

Aphrodisiac—Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Series Pairings: Dark!Natasha x Fem!Reader, Dark!Wanda x Fem!Reader, Dark?Yelena x Fem!Reader, Dark?Kate x Fem!Reader

A/N: This...this is pure sin, and I'm not sorry. I hope you enjoy! I'm really sorry that it took so long to come out, I have been so busy and I feel terrible. It's extra smutty though, so I hope that makes up for it!

Summary: Natasha kidnaps her target, but what happens when Nat decides she has better ideas planned than killing her? Her girlfriend Wanda will have no problem with it, but will the target’s girlfriends, Kate and Yelena, take kindly to seeing her missing?

Warnings: 18+ content, basically entirely smut, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism (in the sense of Kate and Yelena being forced to watch reader), dub-con/non-con, use of Wanda's magic, slight mind control, no incest but Yelena and Natasha are present in the same room during sex (they do not interact), sex toy usage, oral, orgasm denial/edging, fingering, degradation, dark themes, roughness, spanking, overstimulation, daddy/mommy kink, dirty talk, lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: about 3.6K

“You are foolish if you think we will let this happen. Do not speak to Y/N like that! And don't you dare kiss her,” Yelena snarled, furious at the situation and even more so at her inability to do anything about it.

“Oh hush, blondie,” Wanda's casual, almost bored tone, pissed Yelena off more, and she isn't one to sit around and do nothing.

Yelena charged at the witch and Wanda once again caught the widow with her magic, pinning her to the wall. She held Yelena there as she did the same with Kate. While Wanda took care of your girlfriends, the older widow grabbed the back of your neck and walked—half-carrying you—to the bed. She threw you there and gave you a piercing look, clear that you couldn't move from where she placed you. As much as you should've been focusing on what was about to happen to you, your mind was still reeling from the kiss a few moments prior. A soft blush had risen to your cheeks and you hoped your girlfriends hadn't seen. When you looked up to check, however, you realized their eyes were trained on you. You gulped.

“I bet you'll enjoy this, won't you, детка?” Wanda purred softly. “Having them watch while we fuck you so well?”

You blushed slightly at her words, not sure how to respond. You didn’t want to give her any satisfaction, but you couldn’t help your racing thoughts. That was all she needed. She smirked as she became aware of your feelings about the entire situation. The guilt, the fear...the arousal. When you looked behind you, you realized Natasha was searching through a closet for something.

“What is she doing…?” You asked hesitantly.

Wanda smirked more.

“Just looking through the toys,” she cupped your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you,” she cooed. “But I can’t promise anything for her.”

Your stomach flipped and you let out a soft whine, unable to control yourself. Kate emitted a low growl at the noise you made, and, for a moment, you locked eyes. You quickly drew your gaze away when the intensity of her stare got to you, and your attention went back to Natasha. You wondered what things she had in store for you, which things she wanted to do to you—or make you do. The more you thought about it, the more you began to get impatient. You didn’t quite understand why you were getting so wet over the thoughts or why the thoughts became so detailed in your mind until you glanced back over at Wanda to see her eyes glowing red. She must’ve been transferring thoughts into your mind, toying with you. You squirmed slightly under her new intense gaze.

Natasha walked over with a vibrator, a strap, and a riding crop. She set them on the bed and your eyes widened slightly when you noticed how large the strap was. It had to have been larger than any you'd ever seen, and you knew Natasha must've brought her biggest one she had to put on the show of stretching you out in front of Yelena and Kate.

“I am going to rip your throat out,” Yelena growled out, her eyes following the toys angrily. Her accent was thicker than you had ever heard it while she was still speaking English, but her message was clear in intent.

Still, however, neither Natasha nor Wanda paid any mind. Natasha slowly started to undress in front of you and you couldn't force yourself to look away—she was breathtaking. Every part of you wanted to admire her and worship her, but the sting of your current situation reminded you not to get lost in her body. You silently cursed yourself as the last article of clothing was thrown on the floor. You realized then that it was your turn, but you found it hard to expose yourself in front of your captors. The idea of that added vulnerability, on top of what you already had, was terrifying. Realizing you weren't going to undress yourself anytime soon, Wanda tore your clothes off with her magic, red strands whisking them away.

You gasped in surprise and wished that you could become smaller and sink into the ground, away from their predatory gazes. Natasha patted the bed as she laid down, a silent order. You crawled between her legs, knowing instantly what she was asking of you. As she spread her legs, you dipped your head and grazed your tongue between her folds, reaching your hand up to play with her clit. Natasha smirked at your obedience, proud that she didn't need to tell you anything for you to know your job.

“What a good little slut you are, you know just what it is I want,” the assassin purred dangerously. “Now stop being a tease and give it to me.” With that, Natasha grabbed your hair and pulled you into her. You sent your tongue to work, exploring her fully and reaching the best spots you could find. As you worked your best to earn Natasha's pleasure, she arched her back slightly and you watched her head tilt back. Wanda came up behind you and positioned your ass in the air, gently sliding the vibrator into your dripping cunt.

“You can't cum until Nat does,” Wanda instructed, fake kindness lacing her voice and a smirk playing her lips. When she turned the vibrator on a low setting, you moaned softly, seemingly transferring your own vibration through Natasha's core. Her breathing got shallower and you could've sworn you heard her whisper your name between her grunts of pleasure, but you wouldn't ever know for sure due to Wanda's excitement of messing with the vibrator's settings that left your mind spinning too much to focus.

“God, I love the way you involuntarily move your hips as if you can't get enough of my little toy,” Wanda nearly moaned at the sight of you and your unintentional reactions to the varying intensities. You worked your tongue faster, increasing the speed of your fingers on the widow's clit before switching their roles. You plunged two fingers into her and sucked on her clit, flicking your tongue and curling your fingers skillfully to stroke her g-spot repeatedly.

Natasha gasped and you heard her moan loudly before speaking breathily, “Your mouth is fucking good, I should put it to use more often.”

You added a third finger, increasing your speed and bottoming out with every thrust. You whimpered as the vibrator was turned to the highest setting without warning, moaning once again. You could tell it had an effect on Natasha watching you like this while you both ate her out and fingered her, desperate for your own release. Soon after, Nat came with a low, breathy moan and a slight buck of her hips. You helped her ride her high and lapped up the mess dutifully, panting from how close you were to reaching your own orgasm. When you pulled back from Natasha, you turned to Yelena and Kate, your eyes glazed over with lust, desperate for your own high. Yelena had her eyes cast down, growling to herself lowly, while Kate was watching you lustfully yet indignantly. Suddenly, the vibrations stopped and you mewled in protest. A harsh slap met your ass when Wanda gave you a disapproving glare.

“Appreciate what we give you, do not complain,” Natasha scolded harshly. You flinched at her tone and cast your eyes down obediently.

“Yes, Daddy...th-thank you,” you muttered.

“Good little slut,” Wanda breathed out, entranced by your perfect obedience. Natasha's lips twitched into a slight smirk at the title, and you could've sworn you heard an angry grunt of disapproval from one of the two girls against the wall. Nat and Wanda's pleasure was short-lived after your reaction to Natasha's next command, however.

“Take the vibrator out of yourself and finish the job yourself, now. I want to watch you,” the assassin's voice dripped with desire and command.

“I-I don't want to,” you whimpered. “That's not fair.” You were embarrassed at the idea of getting yourself off in front of them, yes, but you also longed for the pleasure you couldn't give yourself--you wanted them. You didn't want to do it yourself.

“We call the shots. Don't you dare protest,” Natasha leaned over to grab your jaw, her strikingly beautiful features instantly darkening. You did your best to nod pitifully despite her vice grip. “Oh, now you want to start obeying again? You think we'll tolerate any disobedience whatsoever?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, getting an idea, and smiled sweetly, sitting next to you on the bed. Nat let you go and you found yourself instantly pressing yourself into Wanda, who still held the remote to the vibrator, for comfort. She started stroking your hair, and you leaned your head against her chest. She set the remote down and removed the vibrator from you, setting it beside the remote, ignoring your quiet whine from the emptiness and lack of attention to your core. You were still close to the edge from your near-orgasm.

“You know, Nat...you're usually the one to deal out the punishments,” her voice was icy yet thickly sweet, like frozen honey. Your blood ran cold as she continued talking, not pausing the attention she was giving your hair. “Perhaps it's my turn,” she said calmly. You stiffened, notably so, and she tutted. “Now, don't shy away from what you earned yourself. I told you only to listen, didn't I? But you didn't do that.”

Natasha seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded in approval.

“That's fine with me,” she spoke to Wanda, ignoring your presence once again. You felt the same as you did a while ago, like when she would talk as if you weren't in the room. As if you weren't a part of any of this. As if your say in what happened to you didn't matter.

Because it didn't.

Before you were entirely aware of what was happening, Wanda flipped you over her knee and spanked you with a surprisingly harsh sting. You yelped in shock. Not only was it the pain that surprised you, but it was also the fact that her hands and touch had been nothing but gentle and kind to you. The sheer and utter contrast this brought was enough to throw you off completely. Not only that, but you felt the added sting of the rings you knew she purposefully left on.

A second smack came down on your ass and you let out a soft hiss in pain, feeling the result of the cold metal again, desperately reaching for her hand. What worried you was that your body had begun to instinctively seek comfort in her so much that it happened naturally, even when she was the one causing you the pain. You needed her to be there for you throughout the punishment you had to endure. She seemed to consider this, scanning your mind, and a proud smirk played her lips as she held your hand with her free hand.

“Our dumb little toy, you still need Mommy to help you through? Even when I'm the one serving you your punishment?” She cooed condescendingly.

You refused to respond but felt yourself grip her hand tighter and bite your lip, bracing yourself for the next blow. Sure enough, it came, and the sting seemed to last even longer this time. You grunted softly from the impact and glanced up at Natasha, who was watching you intently. She only sneered at you, and you knew she was thinking that you deserved it. You did this to yourself, you earned it by talking back and disobeying. All you could do was thank Wanda for serving you your punishment over Natasha, seeing as the assassin likely would've opted for a more lethal option. You felt Wanda's hand gently rub your ass soothingly, likely prepping you for the next strike. To your surprise, nothing came. When you looked up at Wanda, you saw her reaching for the riding crop.

“I suppose there's no better time to use this than now. What do you think, Natty? Three strikes to her clit, ten strikes to her ass?” The witch glanced at Natasha.

Natasha hummed in agreement, and Wanda instantly whipped you with surprising force. You admitted it hurt a lot more than you were expecting, and you jolted up slightly from the shock and suddenness of it. A soft whimper escaped you, and your free hand dug into the sheets, gripping them as the second blow hit without warning also. You thanked her silently for not making you count, seeing as your mind was already an incoherent mess of pain and arousal. She proceeded the blows, and you soon felt yourself soaking her thigh, face contorting in a mix of pleasure and pain. You knew she felt it, but she didn't mention anything until your eighth hit. She pulled her hand away from yours and plunged her fingers into your soaking wet entrance without any forewarning. You gasped and gripped the sheets tighter, balling them into your fist.

“You're making quite the mess on Mommy's thigh, aren't you, детка? You need this to be taken care of. But do you deserve it?” Wanda teased, curling her fingers inside of you while whipping your ass a ninth time.

This time, a moan escaped your lips. You were already rapidly approaching your high due to being left right before your orgasm minutes earlier.

“You're enjoying this a bit too much,” Wanda purred softly as she pulled out her fingers. You groaned in disapproval, knowing she planned on edging you until you felt like you were going to lose it.

She spanked you with the crop one last time again before plunging her fingers back into you and moving them at a brutally fast pace. You bit your lip to stifle a loud moan, and the shame burned your cheeks as you blushed red, realizing you were about to fall apart in front of your girlfriends--and they weren't even the ones doing this to you. You couldn't help that you were clenching your walls around Wanda's fingers, the feelings of her rings brushing against you and adding to the pleasure despite the embarrassing and pride-stripping moment. You felt that you should be used to it by now due to Wanda and Natasha seeming to live for taking what's left of your dignity. Their hungry eyes roamed you excitedly, loving how you looked, helpess over Wanda's knee. The witch stretched her fingers and added another, filling you. You couldn't stop the moan this time, and your breath quickened, knowing you were nearing your high.

“You must always ask for permission,” Wanda warned you, knowing how close you were.

“Please, Mommy! Please, can I cum?” You whimpered out desperately. The look in your eyes fueled the witch's hunger, and she smirked.

“Go ahead, дорогая, cum for me,” she husked into your ear, granting you the permission you needed. You came undone with a moan of her title, and she gently road you through your high, stroking your cheek softly with her free hand that once held the very crop that had dealt you your punishment. “Good girl, what a good girl. You're doing so well, but your punishment isn't over yet,” Wanda reminded you.

You were flipped over and she pulled out her fingers slowly, rings glistening with your slick. Too busy watching her lick her fingers clean in amazement--the moan she let out at your taste had to be the hottest thing you had ever heard--you didn't notice as she came down to hold your legs apart, firmly in place, that Natasha had the riding crop in hand now. She sharply brought the crop down on your painfully sensitive clit and you let out a desperate yelp.

“Count,” Natasha chided.

“O-one!” You tried to speak as quickly as possible to not anger her, still not recovered from the shock of what happened.

She brought the crop down on your cunt with more force the next time, causing you to arch your back and whimper, trying to close your legs. Nat raised an eyebrow, not liking your disobedience.

“Are you trying to escape your punishment? Do you not remember that disobedience got you here in the first place? We established only three, but I could add more if you'd like to stop counting and struggle instead. You only have one left, would you like me to add more to that sensitive little pussy of yours?”

“No, two!” You squeaked, quickly shaking your head to show that disobedience wasn't your intent. You already found yourself craving the sweet praise Wanda was giving you moments ago in contrast to the sharp, sadistic commands of Natasha.

She hummed in approval of your quick recovery but took no pity on you for your third strike, finishing strong. You couldn't stop another sharp yelp, but still obediently cried out the third number, panting softly from the overstimulation and sensitivity. The assassin seemed pleased with her work, and she stood up. Tired from your recent orgasm and lack of ability to catch your breath in between your punishments, you gratefully sank into Wanda's warm embrace, happy that it was over. She laid you on the bed, stomach up, and Natasha slid the strap on.

“That's enough!” You heard Kate call out. “She's done what you've said so far, don't you dare!”

Natasha glared darkly at the bold, younger woman, and fear coursed through you, begging her in your mind not to hurt her. The only problem was, Natasha wasn't the mind reader. To your surprise, however, the assassin chose to ignore Kate. She crawled on top of you on the bed and lifted your jaw so you were looking into her dark green orbs.

“Do you think you can take it, baby? Are you a good enough cockwhore to take my strap?” Natasha's voice was laced with mockery as she slowly pushed the strap into you. “Good thing Wanda got you prepped for Daddy, didn't she?”

You weren't sure if you could handle it, as much as you didn't want to admit it, but you nodded anyway. You were so sensitive from the overstimulation that it felt like too much, added with the size that was far more than you had ever taken before. Your hips jolted slightly as she took her thumb to brush lightly against your clit, causing you to unintentionally force the rest of the strap in. She smirked proudly at you, and if you had any shred of pride left, you would've wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. But you didn't. Not anymore. The widow didn't give you much time to adjust to the strap that was far too big for you. She started pounding into you with a surprising force, holding your hips firmly in place. Your back arched off the bed and you couldn't help the nearly pornographic moans that escaped you.

She seemed to know how to hit every spot that had you screaming, never losing her pace. You were panting already, a whimpering mess underneath her. She nipped and sucked at your neck, leaving clear marks to claim you, and relentlessly forced her hips to meet yours. You attempted to buck your hips to meet her thrusts, but her grip held true and you could barely move. All you could do was lay back and take it, though the pleasure was nearly unbearable. It was too much, you didn't have the ability to rest or take a break to catch your breath.

“I c-can't do it, I can't take a-anymore,” you pleaded, admitting something you wished you hadn't.

“Yes you can, pretty girl, you take it so well. Don't stop now,” Natasha encouraged you.

Not wanting to disappoint her, you did your best to take it, rapidly nearing your next orgasm. Your body went limp, bouncing with each thrust, knowing you had succumbed to the overbearing pleasure. Noticing this, Natasha paused and pulled out. You whined, needing your nearing orgasm. She laid on the bed and placed your legs so you were straddling her, pulling you onto her. She watched you as you saw your own juices coating the strap. You let out a low, guttural moan from need, and she guided your hips to sink down onto her, greedily taking in her strap. She then bounced your hips, moving them to meet hers. After a while, you weren't sure the incoherent noises and pleas that came out of your mouth were even yours.

“I need to cum, I'm so close,” you mewled, tears streaming down your face from how sensitive you were.

“Beg for it. I want to hear you beg and plead. Then, just maybe I'll think about it,” Natasha hissed lowly.

“Please! Please, Daddy, I'm begging you, I-I need to cum! I'm s-so close, please, I need it!” You desperately pleaded.

“Mmmm...fine,” she graciously obliged as you came apart completely, weak from the overstimulation. You weakly tried to remove yourself from her lap but failed. Natasha picked you up gently and laid you next to her on the bed before sitting up and removing the strap. Wanda walked to the bathroom to get a washcloth. She came back and began gently cleaning you up. You involuntarily twitched whenever she got too near your sensitive areas, but she managed to clean you to the best of her ability. Natasha watched you closely, and, when Wanda had finished, the magic was dropped on Kate and Yelena.

“You've proved your point!” Kate growled at her while quickly making her way to you and scooping you up in her arms.

“Have I? Let’s find out,” Natasha growled dangerously. “Tell them, детка. Who's are you?”

Shamefully, you whispered quietly while huddling into Kate, “Yours.”

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I’m so sorry it took so long to come out. I’ll try to be better about the updates. Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list. Some people's blogs aren't popping up, so I'm sorry if you aren't getting notified. I’m not sure where I want the ending of this to go, and I’m kind of tempted to just leave it an open AU that I maybe add chapters onto when requested but still do other fanfics and things on the side. We’ll see. But it might not have a solid ending and might just be an open fic if that makes sense? As always, let me know what you think. Your thoughts and opinions mean the world to me (and give me motivation to write more lol). Comments, reblogs, and notes are always appreciated. Also, happy Easter💜😈🖤

Tag list: @simpforflorencepugh1 @widowbitessting @illicittete @hoeforwandanat @ripofflizzie @simpingforfemales @watashiwaglr38 @odessashaw @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ashadash0904 @vivianjctgr @grey-reads @gaylorvader

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 21

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Wanda fluff, Loki fluff, we're getting a whole ass friendship! Dad sucks. The outfits are neat tho! Check the end for a mood board 😍

a/n: dress inspo and aesthetic visuals can be found here, here and here. (Paolo Sebastian, Firefly Path gowns and Viona Ielegems photography).

"Gi-i-irl..." Wanda drawled, seeing me arrive with Tony, both of us freshly showered and still hazy from the amazing orgasms. God only knew what she'd seen in both of our heads - if judging only by the vivid, crimson blush she spouted, it was definitely something very NSFW. Bruce already sat at the dinner table, quietly slurping his soup, his back and shoulders the most relaxed I'd ever seen. He gave me a knowing smile once he noticed my presence in my usual spot by his side.

The rest of the team appeared completely oblivious, preoccupied by their food.

"So, about the party. Got any costume ideas?" I cut straight to the chase, unwilling to wait for Wanda to start asking for details right in front of everyone.

Steve, Bucky, Pietro, Thor and Natasha all answered affirmative, the latter whacking Clint upside the head and firmly stating "no funny business". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of crazy shit the Bird had in mind and was kind of disappointed at Nat's intervention. A good chaotic moment was always worthwhile in my opinion!

The other bird, Sam, approached Bruce with caution as he wondered if the scientist was interested in doing a paired costume with him, only to be interrupted by Tony declaring, with childish glee, he had a "wicked project" that he and Bruce would be doing together. The scientist gave a resigned sigh and apologized.

Sam wasn't deterred by the slight setback; he approached Clint instead and after being given an okay from Natasha, the Birds decided to pair up. As they should, if you'd ask me.

"I have a costume but I need some accessories. Wanda, Lokes, join me on my lil' shopping trip?" I prompted, wanting everybody to be included. I was fully prepared for Loki to scoff and dismiss my invitation but the Asgardian nodded after a second of brief speechlessness. Didn't anyone invite him to birthday parties as a kid? Either way, Thor gave me a grateful smile, like a proper big brother. Both Asgardians had grown visibly closer during the past couple of months which made me hide a secretive smile behind a spoonful of soup.

It turned out, Loki hadn't exactly been introduced to the buzzing beehive that is NYC. He didn't get out much and when he needed to be somewhere, the man simply teleported to the desired destination. As convenient as it must've been, I still expressed my outrage at his lack of experience doing the usual "touristy" things that, in my opinion, every non-newyorker was obligated to do when visiting. Yes, even if said visitor had literally traveled across different galaxies.

Wanda wasn't much better in terms of city knowledge. According to her, she'd lived here for several years already but never bothered to go beyond the borders of the block surrounding the Avengers tower. The witch didn't have friends outside of her teammates (therapy. they all needed so much therapy. y'all...) so she simply saw no point in going anywhere beyond the local mall.

Which was trash. I mean, I loved Hot Topic and Forever 21 as much as any other young adult with depression and anxiety but it was literally impossible to wear clothes made out of cheap cotton and polyester all the time. I'm pretty sure I would have hives and ulcers if I attempted that.

"We're going on Sixth Avenue and that's final. No friend of mine will be wearing shit from Wal-Mart at a Stark party," I interrupted Wanda's defensive stuttering, using my other hand to summon an Uber.

"That is good advice," Loki, previously silent, added in a sweet tone. I counted on the fashionable Asgardian to be on my side and with his schmoozing skills, I didn't even have to drag Wanda inside the car by, like, her hair or whatever. The three of us barely fit into the small Toyota anyway.

A thought struck me when I had to consciously avoid stepping on Loki's leather shoes and keep away my elbow from Wanda's stomach. "Mister? I'll give you a hundred bucks cash if you turn around and drive to this address," I hurriedly rattled off my home address, delighting in the way the driver nearly did a U-turn at the mention of crispy dollar bills.

We arrived home quickly. Wanda gaped in mild disbelief at the size of my house while Loki looked about as interested as he'd ever be. His face was akin to an expression one made while smelling fresh manure. Opening the garage, I was greeted with an unpleasant surprise of my dad's outrageously painted Corvette standing neatly by my white Range Rover.

Loki looked and felt considerably less tense in the back of my car. The subtle signs of discomfort all but left his face replaced by slight wonder as I explained how to adjust the temperature and turn on the heated seats.

Dad met us at the gates. "You didn't come in to say hello," He pouted. His breath reeked like a five-day drinking binge hangover and he looked a dead man.

"We're in a hurry, dad. There's a lot to be done," I replied curtly, hoping to get rid of him fast. I hated being sober around my drunk father. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

"You're like your mother, always busy," Dad's laugh was coarse and bitter. "But at least you find time for Stark and his friends. That'll do your future real good," He clapped once on the hood of my car, heading back to the house with a wave of his hand, just in time to miss the disgusted shudder that ran through me.

I knew my dad well enough to understand the implications of what he meant by his words. In his world, fucking way up to the top was considered the norm. I'd rather cut off my own foot than use Tony that way.

"Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was still in Cali," I gritted my teeth, pulling out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that. I have no kind words regarding your father," Loki's look was sympathetic in the rearview mirror.

"Or your mother," Wanda added, messing with her seatbelt. Loki nodded tersely.

"Aight, aight," I sighed, set on improving the mood. "Let's not poop this party. We're getting some absolutely delicious beverages and wasting my money on outrageous pretty things. My treat."

Wanda's protests were drowned out by Motorhead and Loki's grumbling was overshadowed by Guns'n'Roses. Their resistance didn't stand a chance. Few blocks out, the witch was singing along to November Rain, heavily accented and terribly off-key, and the Asgardian watched New York city intently behind the protection of the tinted rear windows of my ride. He seemed mesmerized by the crowds and the variety of colorful shop fronts. This was the the one and only reason I eased off the gas pedal and drove the speed limit for once.

The atmosphere was, well, magical. Looking at my two companions, I discovered the familiar city anew with every question they asked, every remark they made. The desire to ask in turn about their homelands melted like the tension I was harbouring after the run-in with my father. Content and warm, I had my attention divided between Loki and Wanda juggling their wonder back-and-forth between themselves and the absolutely crazy NYC traffic.

So what if I parked in a no-parking zone just to get us the most delicious coffee in the city? Loki, the resident tea person, ordered himself something unpronounceable, something that made the barista twitch. Wanda got a sugary-sounding vanilla-white chocolate perversion. I just got a mocha, having had outgrown my adolescent desires to experiment with "how sweet can I make this coffee before I literally puke?" beverages.

With a laugh, I instructed them to pose in front of the nearest reflective surface to brag about our coffees on Instagram - this café deserved more recognition. My companions reluctantly obliged.

I wonder if the barista realized just who had bought the coffee - Loki was quite a media darling when it came to fangirls. Tony's PR team did a wonderful job on the Asgardian's redemption arc. The trickster only fueled the utter devotion his fangirls had for him by being extra nice and charming in every video I've seen. I guess you can't out-mindcontrol manners outta somebody, he was raised a prince after all.

It wasn't raining but the autumn chill seeped into the tiny spaces between my layers of clothing. I already managed to regret my fashionable dark academia inspired outfit at least twice, however the matching vibe all three of us had was positively dashing. Loki, wearing his usual onyx black and dark green. Wanda with a burgundy sweater dress and thigh high platformed boots - sweater dresses, out of all things, had no business looking this good on anybody. But she pulled it off.

"You said you've got a costume. Mind sharing what it is?" The witch said, curiously peeking into the windows of a nearby vintage boutique as we took our leisurely stroll with steaming paper cups keeping our fingers warm.

"A fairy dress. It was custom made for me last year and I actually didn't get to wear it. I need some jewelry to go with it," I explained, stopping to show a photo of the dress on my smartphone. "And some shoes, too. Let's hope the party will be held completely indoors, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off."

"Custom made?" Wanda squeaked, looking at the garment in wonder. Loki gave a vaguely approving nod.

"Yeah, there's a company that makes these fantasy dresses. You want one? What did you have in mind for your costume anyway?" I switched the topic quickly, seeing how Wanda withdrew into herself slightly. I heard from Peter she grew up poor, in the middle of a war and I didn't want to make her feel bad or anything. I wasn't good at these things...

"I thought maybe I could match with you," She replied, slowly taking a sip of her coffee.

"Sure. There are a couple of shops with really cute dresses that fit the aesthetic." Marchesa. We need a Marchesa store. And a Zuhair Murad - if there was one on this stretch of road. "What about you, Lokes? Anything in particular strike your fancy?" I asked our silent companion, frantically googling the information I needed.

"Black," He answered moodily.

"Boo, you whore," I rolled my eyes at his scoff. We had watched the Mean Girls recently and he got the reference, immediately raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "You know, you could do so much with this pale aristocratic look you've got going on. How about a medieval vampire?"

"Like Lestat? He's fucking hot," Wanda and I understood each other promptly. She jumped on the bandwagon immediately.

Combining my blunt honesty and her adorable fawning over a fictional bloodsucker, we managed to convince Loki into going on a hunt for brocaded, velvet suits and blouses with ruffles for his look. The trickster revolted at the mere suggestion of procuring some fake fangs, instead magically making them appear and showing them off in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, much to my and Wanda's delighted shrieking. He looked, I daresay, very attractive, like a porcelain figurine. Delicate but dangerous.

We arrived at the store that showcased beautiful, airy dresses of silk, chiffon and tulle. The lace was delicate and the seams invisible. I ushered Wanda into a dressing room with a shop attendant that was quietly but strictly instructed to not discuss the cost of the dresses and hide the price tags.

"I want it to be a gift. My friend here deserves no less than a magical experience," I explained quietly, winking at a bewildered Loki.

"Why did you do that?" He asked once Wanda was given a selection of several dresses in flattering colours and led into a separate dressing room.

"These dresses, they're special so they're a bit pricey. And knowing Wanda, she'll make a scene and refuse to let me buy them for her," I idly twirled my phone in my hands. "But every girl wants to be a princess and it's kinda sad she never got to be one. It's more than just a dress, it's more than feeling pretty, although it's a big part of it. She'll feel on top of the world."

Loki nodded. I'm certain he didn't understand it - being a man and all - and I wasn't sure I understood it completely, too. I never lacked pretty or expensive things, always got whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But for a moment, I thought how it must've been for Wanda - seeing all these girls on TV, looking like pictures - and never having the chance to experience that. A concept that made me so sad, I was tempted to ask the customer service person for a glass of scotch. Being poor sounded depressing as hell.

Suddenly, Loki's cool, large hand landed on mine. "Thank you. I am certain Wanda will be the most beautiful lady at the ball."

I stared at him. Loki understood.

"Well, I... I don't know how finicky you are on gender labels for clothes, but there were a couple of blouses you might want to check out. They've got the neck ruffles and shit." My throat suddenly seized up and I had to clear it before speaking, steering away from the uncomfortably emotional moment. Thankfully, Loki wandered off without as much as a word.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

& the promised aesthetic

[beseira]

bechaerin

after having worked with seira the last round, chaerin was pretty upset herself to find that she's placed last. while she had seen the improvements the other had made during the short time they were given, it must've not been enough for the judges. however, she noticed that the biggest problem seira seemed to have was her confidence. chaerin really didn't want to play the role of a mean coach, but she thinks some stern words were what seira needed at the moment. she spent the last round walking through everything with her, but she knew better than anybody else that if seira wanted to continue down this path, she was going to have to learn to do things on her own. "seira, you really need to start having more faith in yourself. look, you're not a bad dancer or singer, but your talent gets hidden on stage because you look unsure of yourself most of the time," she states with a purse of her lips. there was nothing more she could do for her at this point because confidence was something she had to learn to build up on her own. "when it comes to the actual performance, you have to empty your mind of the numerous thoughts and

seira wasn’t a terrible performer, she rapped well and she wasn’t the worst singer nor dancer, she had experience under her belt, yet she’d dropped to the very bottom of the ranks. she’d gotten a taste of top five, just to be thrown down the ranks. seira was a bit scared, feared elimination, so this time around she worked extra hard. she refused to get eliminated. she’d come in early, stay late, practice whenever she had time, all that was on her mind this time around, was her performance.

“i’ve started to feel more confident in my skills, but, i’ve never done a concept like this before” she fiddles with the end of her sleeve. “i know i can rap, sing and dance the part, but can i learn the whole vibe too?”. “but you’re right, i need confidence for this performance”. “when you’re nervous before a performance, what do you do?”.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Hurts So Bad... (Part 1)

-

Introduction

Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: For the first time, Peter Parker meets someone he has no idea how to save...

Warning: angst(obviously), mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm...

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

Depression wasn't this crazy thing everyone made it out to be.

It didn't feel like you were endlessly falling. Or that there was this big secret inside of you that you just couldn't seem to find out.

It didn't feel like this desperate need to rid yourself from the world. You didn't feel like you were some terrible thing that no one should look at.

It didn't feel like wanting to cry every second of every day. Or being so filled up with sadness that you were about to overflow.

Instead, it felt like nothing.

Just that. Nothing. Empty. Listless.

Like a gigantic void that needed filling.

Sure, you smiled from time to time. Sometimes you even laughed. Like a functioning person.

But the second whatever caused you to smile was over, the void began bigger, and all of the things that once filled it quickly went from the top to falling in and disappearing and you were empty once again.

You couldn't pin it down to one exact reason. Sure you could blame your parents, but no matter how problematic they were you knew deep inside that they couldn't have been the soul reason. You could say school was causing your depression, but then again, how many times has that been said before?

The truth was, you didn't know. Maybe you were just... like this.

Your dad always told you there was no reason to be sad, as if you didn't know that.

That was the point, wasn't it? You were empty and you didn't know why and that was the problem but the second you told someone the problem they just told you that there was no reason to be empty and you already knew that and you just wanted to scream out "that's the fucking point."

But you couldn't.

So you didn't.

So eventually you stopped saying anything at all.

Because no one would really listen.

Suicide to you wasn't a need. It was a want.

It was not wanting to live with having to try every day to fill an unfillable void so the only thing you could possibly think of to end it would be ending it...

..And not being able to come up with a legitimate reason to try and stay.

And the self harm was for when the emptiness was just too much to take.

Peter was Spiderman when he met you.

Swinging on his webs, desperate to get home after an empty night of hardly any crime. He dashed over buildings, yawning after every other swing. "I need some sleep," he muttered as he finally reached his street.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe God or the universe wanted to stall you out. Or maybe Peter was just too tired to focus. But for whatever reason, Peter missed his house with one extra swing and hopped onto the apartment building beside his.

That was the one you lived in.

Quickly realizing his mistake, Peter chuckled. "I really need some sleep."

He stood on the edge of the building, preparing to jump to the next, when he heard a window open. Instinctively, he turned his head around to where the noise was coming from.

He watched as a girl climbed out of the open window, onto the fire escape staircase in front of her.

That girl was you.

You sat there, staring into the distance, your face expressionless.

Peter didn't know what kept him there, looking at him, but he did. You looked a little familiar but that was it. For some reason, he felt that he needed to be there. He needed to see you.

The universe needed him to see you lift up your sleeve and stare emotionlessly at the fresh cuts.

What you needed to make sure it was real. That the media said you needed to make sure you weren't faking it. Your shameful, painful grip to reality. Only you saw them though. They were the evidence that you hid.

But that night, Peter saw them. He saw them very clearly. "O-oh my God...," he gasped, unable to look away.

You blew them lightly, trying to ease the pain you felt. Your eyes trailed through each one, touching some and then wincing at the pain.

Peter stood helplessly, until he realized.. He was a superhero. He was supposed to help. He had to do something.

As silently as he could, he climbed down the stairs, closer to you. Where had he seen you before this?

When he was only one floor above you, he froze, as he saw a few tears trailing down your cheeks. He looked at his hands to see himself shaking. No, Spiderman couldn't do that. He was the hero. He couldn't be nervous about helping someone in need. 'Get it together, Pete...'

"A little too late to be out, don’t you think?," he said, deciding to not face the problem head-on.

Your eyes flicked to the side, but your body stayed still. You looked at the stranger with a dull expression. "Hello, Spiderman," you said softly, immediately pulling your sleeve up to cover your cuts. "There are no crimes here, as you can see..."

Quickly deciding against his previous decision, he cleared his throat. "Y'know.. that's a pretty nasty habit." That was all he could scrunch up. It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but he was already at a loss for words.

"Really? I hadn't noticed...," you said, though there wasn't a sarcastic drawl in your voice. It was as if you were in a listless trance.

Tears began to prick at his eyes. "I think-"

"I think you need to go look for crimes," you said, still staring straight ahead.

Peter sighed. "Look, I don't know you very much, but I'm sure someone loves-"

"What are you going to say next, Spiderman?," you asked, your eyes watering. "That suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem? That I'm going to hurt a lot of others while hurting myself?" You turned to look him dead in the eyes. "... that there are others out there that are going through worse?"

Oh how you hated that one.

Peter stared back. There was nothing he could actually say to come back at that. You continued, simply saying, "Thanks sir. But I've heard it all before..." He looked ahead, hopelessly thinking for some way to get ahead of this game. But as if he wasn't when there, you continued to speak.

"And they'd mourn, Spiderman. I'm sure they would.. but mourning ends after awhile." You breathed in. "-And I'm certain.. give it a year tops.. they'll remember me.. but no one still care about me... because I'd be gone."

He went to sit next to you. He didn't know what to say. "Um, do you wanna get some bandages for that?" He never fully looked at your face up close, respecting your privacy.

"I'm fine, thank you," you rushed out, just waiting for this to be over. "Thanks for your concern Spiderman but I- um, I'm fi-," you tried to say before your face scrunched up and tears began to fall. You couldn't stop it. You covered your face with your hands.

At least this was a new thing. At least now you felt something.

Peter jumped into action. He brought his arm over your shoulders. "It's okay," he said. "It's gonna be okay.."

At that, slowly through your tears, you started to smile. But it wasn't a real smile. It was a dark, bitter smile.

'It's gonna be okay' was something that you heard on a daily basis.

This Spiderman guy didn't know what you felt everyday. He hadn't known that you were on that staircase begging for the courage to jump off.

He didn't know that you were beyond help. That no amount of web-slinging, motivational quotes, or super strength would help you, or at least not for very long.

You didn't even hear the rest of the words that he said to you, or maybe he didn't say any. But it didn't matter.

You only knew that after a while, he somehow got you back through your window, into your room.

And that's when Peter realized, you went to his school. That's where he knew you from. When the light finally hit your face, he knew. Someone that he passed by in the halls every day was struggling. Someone needed saving.

And he had no idea.

-

You woke up that day feeling more tired than usual.

After sitting in your bed for a while, you stood and walked to your bathroom. The first thing you did was look into the mirror.

There were bags under your eyes. Massive bags under your eyes.

'Great.. that's what I get for crying so much last night.'

You washed your face and got dressed for the day. Then you realized.

'The razors..'

You couldn't remember whether or not you'd put them up, or thrown the dirty ones away for that matter.

'God, I'm an idiot.'

So right before school, you practically turned your entire room upside down in search for the box and the dirty razors beside them. You knew they were somewhere.

In the midst of your search, something caught your eye.

One of your sticky notes were on the window. You didn't remember putting a sticky note on the window..

You walked close. On it read:

You're right, miss. There's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said before. But I will say this. I'm involved now. It's my duty to save people in need of saving and that's exactly what I plan to do. I wasn't kidding when I said that it's going to be okay.

Your friend, Spiderman.

You must've read the note over a trillion times before you realized you were late for school.

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

Taglist: @eridanuswave, @pastelbunny1501

[coinofstone]

2x11 The Witch's Quickening

Hey Arthur, remember last time you were on a manhunt in Camelot and it led you to Morgana's chambers, and she talked you out of searching them and later admitted that she'd been hiding a fugitive in there? Have you learned NOTHING

And Merlin too, he doesn't like, double back and confront Morgana or suggest Arthur do that?

Why is Arthur yelling at Merlin so much in this? Who wrote this episode.

::Coin watch the show instead of playing on her phone challenge::

Morgana being manipulated by a nine year old

Why is Arthur insulting the food as if Merlin cooked it himself? Every other meal he brings up is from the palace kitchens but on this occasion Merlin cooked himself? Ok.

Even the fkin dragon is OOC in this ep

Morgana is so much more intelligent than this.

Gaius needs to bring this to Uther in the throne room like a member of the public? He couldn't get a private audience with the king? Ok.

I really don't remember this episode being so terrible, maybe I'm in a bad mood.

You know, not for nothing, but from Mordred's perspective Merlin is being an absolute dick, not only siding with the oppressor but actively working to sabotage their plans and hurt their people. As we, the audience, are privy to the reasons behind this, WE don't necessarily questions Merlin's actions, WE know he's after the crystal because he's trying to prevent Mordred and Morgana from teaming up and bringing harm to Arthur - that's all good and well but like... Merlin could never bring himself to kill Mordred because he's just a boy, but yet he's allowed the boy to go off and become somewhat radicalized (I say 'somewhat' because honestly, it's not all that radical to plot to overthrow the king that has been waging a genocidal war against your people for twenty fucking years) without ever trying to bring him into the fold. If Merlin had explained his and Arthur's destinies to the boy, made an argument for waiting out Uther's reign in the hope that Arthur's reign will bring peace and magic back to Camelot, but which may not happen if he sees his father killed by sorcerers, and explained his reasons for hiding who he is from Morgana, regardless of Mordred's ultimate destiny to be Arthur's doom, Merlin would've at least had a shot at cultivating an alliance or at very least an understanding between them. Instead, all Mordred sees is this supremely powerful sorcerer who isn't even a druid, serving the very people that would bring an end to their entire race if they could. Although, it seems as tho Mordred has forgotten who exactly snuck him out of the castle and back to the druid camp in three first place. Makes you wonder if Morgana never explained to him that she was believed to have been kidnapped when they found her with the druids last time, and that she went along with that lie for her own safety.

Tl;dr: communication is important kids!

Do I even need to point out how much sense Morgana's little tiff with Uther did not make? Or her sudden distrust of Gwen? If anything she should think Gwen would be an ally considering a) her father was killed by Uther, as an innocent victim of Uther's war on magic, b) Gwen was party to Morgana's previous involvement in aiding and abetting a druid fugitive, c) Gwen L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y sacrificed herself to save Morgana from Hengist's men, the is zero reason to question Guinevere's loyalty to Morgana, and d) Gwen has never said a WORD against sorcery or hinted at any kind of prejudice against druids or anyone with magic.

I looked up the writing credit for this, it's Jake Michie who is also credited with some fantastic episodes like Lancelot, Beauty and the beast, and the Lamia to name a few. It was directed by Alice Troughton who has also done some good eps, including other eps written by Jake Michie, so like I really don't understand what went wrong here.

Oh God there's a commentary track on this episode. I don't wannnnnaaaaaa but maybe I'll learn something, like why it turned out the way it did.

Commentary by Julian Murphy, Alice Troughton, and Katie. I do not have high hopes.

Katie right off the bat explaining shit that's important to note, God I love her on these tracks. Apparently, this was one of the last things to be shot (Merlin films everything out of order and films several episodes concurrently, depending on filming location.) and it was being shot while three other episodes were being wrapped up - so they had FOUR episodes filming concurrently and a lot of THIS episode was directed by Julian Murphy, and Jeremy shot some of it as well. This COULD explain a lot of the inconsistency, but I question how much since Julian seems to be involved in filming lots of scenes in lots of episodes. But I guess it's possible that just that on top of the rush to finish and the pressure of so many spinning plates in the air right at the end. They've just said that for this episode they had the least amount of days to shoot it out of all the episodes they've done, which is partly why they had so much going at once. It's as good a reason as any to explain it being so off, but I don't really see that explaining the wildly off characterization.

Katie going on the whole thing about Alvarr-as-revolutionary and Alice picks up on Morgana's sort of desire to be in that position and they're having a quite meaningful discussion then Julian:I think she just thinks he's hot 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Katie says the script changed a lot even as it was filming, and that things were being changed as it was filmed so I'm kind of thinking for whatever reason this entire thing was a mess and that's why it came across looking so disjointed to me.

At least Julian realize the soup scene was terrible.

Idk why they're ganging up on Katie over the chemistry between her and Alvarr. She says she wasn't playing it that way and that she wasn't feeling it and they're just like "yea uh huh sure."

They're talking about having two units filming like a few feet away from each other in the forest, while there is another two units going in France.

Julian says they had added Alvarr's girlfriend in because they wanted to dramatize his charisma and calculation... but it's not manipulation - ?????????? Someone get the man a dictionary. 'We added a random blonde in four him to kiss so that the audience knows he's got a girl already, who sees him working his charm on Morgana and comments on it 'you played her well', but Alvarr isn't actually manipulative' ??????????

They've just pointed out two entire significant beats within a sequence that was constructed on set and off script. Arthur's confrontation with Alvarr in the forest and Merlin's slow motion tracking the crystal to show its got a powerful draw. The more they describe the specifics of filming the more it sounds like an utter disaster which kind of makes me feel bad for being so harsh on the episode.

I keep having to rewind to focus on what they're saying and I feel like I've been watching this episode for about 4 hours.

Awkward bit of prop-exposure there. Trying to work out what LK could even stand for.

Idk everyone's really happy with this scene between Morgana and Uther and I'm still sitting here thinking the dialogue was utterly ridiculous.

They talked about changing that final scene, where Uther clearly knows/suspects it was Morgana who helped Alvarr escape, so that it doesn't prematurely push the story too far ahead. They cut a look Morgana gives Merlin which, rightfully so, because it would've been too much too soon. The ending to this episode still feels wholly unsatisfying to me. I understand the little tag with the dragon yelling for Merlin to release him, I don't mean that, but the ending to the main story where Alvarr just escapes and Uther not only accepts that but also accepts that Morgana must've helped him. Overall Uther's been entirely sort of neutered throughout this episode, which I understand that partially has to do with it being Morgana, but like, in previous episodes when she's been so defiant against him, he's had her by the throat and locked her in a dungeon overnight. So I just doubt understand him being so subdued here, especially since he directly threatened her when he found pr Mordred escaped, and now another druid's escaped and he essentially knows she was involved given how she spoke to him, yet he doesn't do anything? Just wildly inconsistent behavior.

Anyway apologies for overanalyzing this episode, I realize I tore it apart pretty thoroughly during the commentary and the post became quite long. I wish there was a way to add a cut on mobile but there isn't. I'll have the S2 finale post up in a few hours - I might hold off on posting until I've watched the extras, I didn't do that for S1 but then I felt the extras didn't quite warrant a whole post on their own, so I might just tack on any thoughts I have to the 2x12 post. We'll see.

[emma-what-son]

Wow she can still brazenly walk back on a Kerring red carpet after that terrible attendance record and working on a project she hyped way more in comparison with a rival brand like Prada! I wouldn't be able to do it XD Though Kerring probably doesn't mind whatever extra hype her coming generates with the press for whatever time is left until her contract expires🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, not to be mean but her whole bearing has a certain smugness/arrogance going by her expression, considering the stunt she's pulling here with her work ethic at Kerring (not great at least from what's known in the public domain) and how she's just returning from being a product ambassador for their rival. Though maybe I could be wrong and she's secretly nervous and trying to look tough. I'm just trying to give the benefit of doubt..

She must've been invited, so I don't think that there's any bad blood. Kering wanted to use her hiring as a way to make them look good, so I don't think they were really banking on her expertise. It's unprofessional that she decided not to attend meetings, but I bet they mind all that much. I do see that smirk which we haven't seen in quite a while haha

[brunchbitch]

What was chrysalis like? Also what did the staff at 3 east say about your treatment at IV? That must've been so traumatic and probably made recovery so much harder. I can't even imagine already struggling with shame/guilt, being bullied, being let down by people who you should've been able to trust and then being put in that environment where all those things were reinforced x1000. That sounds like literally the worst place you could've been. Did your parents try and sue?

Chrysalis was a little better than IV but not by much. It was a therapeutic boarding school in Eureka, MT with around 32 adolescent girls. There were two main houses (”Lake House” and “Horse House”) and two step-down cabins (I never got to that point though). I remember cleaning A LOT (similar to IV) - we had weekly chores that took hours on top of general cleaning every day, and “punishment” cleaning like using a toothpick to clean out the grooves of the wood floor, which was so pointless and stupid. They operated on a level system as well - there were three levels and each one was a pretty big deal. I remember being OVERJOYED when I got level two but I never got to level three. Girls would stay 1-2 years, depending, although I think one girl who I was friends with was there for 3 years but she had a really bad home situation and I think they wanted to get her through high school there. There was a therapeutic school on campus, but after spending at least one semester there and being on level 2, you had the option of going to the local public high school. So I started there in August, did the first semester on campus, then did the second semester at the public school. My therapist said I was “a piece of cake” compared to most other girls there bc of how much IV had beat me into shape lol. 

We had this group called “Circle” I think three times a week where everyone  sat in a huge circle and confronted each other. To show you how much I flew under the radar, in a year I was only confronted once and it was like the kindest confrontation ever - I had been running a lot and had a ton of pain in my back so one of my friends Catherine said I needed to take care of myself and be willing to go to my doctor when I went home on pass. But I remember my blood turning to ice when she said my name in front of everyone. I cannot even tell you how terrifying and traumatic some aspects of those programs are. What I did really like about Chrysalis was that we got to do a lot more than at IV - we would bike or run every morning (if the weather was nice) and would go on camping trips a couple times a month. I went on a 70-mile bike trip through southern Canada and northern Montana that was absolutely incredible (although I only did probably about 40% of the trip bc my back was so bad so I rode in the van the rest of the way). I had a therapist that I really liked at the time but there were some weird things looking back - Mary and Kenny were the married couple who owned/operated Chrysalis and they majorly played favorites - I was relieved that I was one of them. I don’t really know how a girl got to be one of their favorites, but they would be defended by M and K, would have extra sessions with M, M and K were always hugging them, some girls even sat in their laps and they played with the girl’s hair which I found super weird. We had to journal at least a page every day and leave them open on our beds in the morning for staff to check. Our therapists would collect our journals once a week and read through all the entries, then write a long response in it (which I liked) and my therapist would sign it with a heart and “I love you” but only after I had been there a while. He also self-disclosed something pretty big (he had tried to kill himself over a break-up and slit his wrists, which he showed me the scars from) in our last session. When my parents found out about those things, they were really unhappy and felt really uncomfortable. It’s kind of hard to explain but it was kind of lovey-dovey in a way that was a relief from IV so I soaked it up. But looking back a lot of it was unethical and weird.

Gillian was upset by the things IV told me and convinced me of and it took a lot of work for me to consider other options. I think relating to my treatment now, it really fed into my avoidance of looking at issues - I would talk about something I’m ashamed of and would immediately say “and I’m a terrible person and manipulative and an attention-seeker” to “own up” to the blame, but then that prevented me from looking at what it says about me, what I learned from it, etc. I think for a very sensitive, self-blaming, suicidal adolescent, it was incredibly damaging. I never thought about how it fit into not being able to trust people I should’ve… wow that’s really interesting. But yes, it totally fit into that schema. And my therapist at IV was particularly terrible bc she was young and motherly and sweet sometimes, but then she would turn around and be really awful. I shared something with her that I hadn’t told anyone and she handled it terribly and made me feel like I was the most horrible person in the history of the world. I think she was the first sort of authority figure that I became really attached to and so dependent upon and sensitive to her every action. No, my parents didn’t sue. Surprisingly, compared to other people who were there, my experience wasn’t super traumatic. I was never physically restrained or neglected like some others, so I don’t know if our case would’ve held up in court.

I’m not sure if you sent the other question about whether other people at 3East had been to similarly traumatic programs but I’m just going to answer that here too - as far as I remember, I think I was the only one that had been to such a terrible program, but there were a loootttt of girls in the program throughout the year and a half that I was there and I’m sure at least a portion of them had been through the “troubled teen” industry. I know one other girl at the GR was at Provo in Utah when she was young and it was just as terrible as IV if not worse. It was so validating to talk to her about it.