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lvmoure · 3 months ago

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Baby Fever CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: In which they are both ready to step into the next label.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

You always wanted to be a mother. Sure, that feeling had been quietly humming in the background of your life, an almost imperceptible ache that grew steadily, but with each passing day, it had become stronger. And then came Carlos, so full of life, his laughter, his spirit—it was easy to imagine what a child of his would be like. It was easy to picture a little version of him running around, their laughter echoing like his, their eyes bright and curious, filled with the same intensity. But that conversation hadn’t come up yet, at least not seriously. So when you two were asked to babysit the nieces and nephews for a day, it felt like fate had a way of pushing things along.

The house was a flurry of tiny, rapid footsteps and loud giggles, toys scattered around like the remnants of a colorful hurricane. You and Carlos sat in the living room, surrounded by your nieces and nephews—three kids, all under the age of six, with boundless energy that made your head spin just watching. You’d spent most of the morning playing referee, distributing snacks, and occasionally rescuing someone from a tiny, toddler-sized disaster.

Carlos leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, watching you as you coaxed little Ana out of her hiding spot behind the couch with promises of her favorite juice. He shot you that lopsided grin, the one that told you he was just as entertained watching you in action as he was by the kids themselves.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the din of the children. His eyes had softened, a flicker of something warm and tender lingering there as he watched you.

You gave him a little smirk, tilting your head as you shrugged. “I think they’re just easily bribed with juice.”

Carlos chuckled, but his gaze lingered, like he was seeing something deeper. The kids were a whirlwind, tugging at his hands, demanding his attention just as much as yours. Ana climbed into his lap at one point, babbling about a story she half-invented, and he listened with exaggerated nods and expressions that had her giggling and clapping her hands in delight. You watched, heart swelling a bit as he played along, his big hands carefully adjusting her tiny, mismatched socks as she tried to describe an adventure involving a princess and a dragon.

Carlos had always been good with kids. He had a playful, patient streak that you couldn’t help but admire. He could make them laugh with the silliest faces, and he listened to their stories like they were the most important tales he’d ever heard. He was gentle with them in a way that made your heart ache a little bit more, that made you picture what it would be like if he were playing like this with a child that was truly yours.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that the kids were getting antsy. When Mateo, your five-year-old nephew, started whining about going to the park, you exchanged a look with Carlos.

“How about it?” Carlos asked, nudging you. “Think you can handle a few hours outdoors?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, nodding. “Let’s go, little ones. Grab your shoes!”

The sun was warm but gentle as you made your way to the park, your nephew Mateo holding onto your hand, chattering about his bike with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was getting better at riding, but he still needed someone nearby, just in case. Carlos was by your side, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked together, the two of you flanking Mateo like a protective shield.

Once at the park, you helped Mateo onto his little bike, adjusting his helmet and giving him an encouraging smile. “You ready to show us some cool tricks, little man?”

He beamed, a shy little nod as he gripped the handlebars and pedaled with a mix of concentration and excitement. You watched him with a tender expression, your hands hovering near him as he rode in small, careful loops.

Carlos leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching the two of you with an amused grin. “You’re babying him,” he teased softly, laughter in his voice.

You glanced back at him, giving him a mock glare. “He’s five, Carlos. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face.”

He shrugged, but he kept watching, that warm, thoughtful look never leaving his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself; you crouched down, offering Mateo a quick high-five when he completed another successful lap around you. “You’re getting really good at this, you know? Soon, you’ll be riding like a pro.”

Carlos chuckled softly behind you, and you shot him a sidelong glance, hoping maybe he’d pick up on the way you looked at Mateo, the way you held his little hands and clapped for every small victory. But Carlos, ever the racer, seemed more focused on encouraging Mateo’s speed than anything else.

---

The park outing had gone well, and as the sun started to dip, the three of you made your way back. You were a little tired, but a sense of peace had settled over you, a kind of warmth that lingered even after you’d waved goodbye to Mateo and returned him to his parents.

But then Carlos had to go and be his usual self—playfully dense, occasionally oblivious in the most endearing way. Back at the house, he’d start poking fun, saying, “You’re really good at this, you know. Maybe I should be the one that needs babying around here.”

You just rolled your eyes, a little annoyed but amused. “Very funny, Carlos. Maybe I’m just practicing for the real thing, ever thought of that?”

“Oh, you mean more babysitting gigs?” He feigned innocence, that sly grin telling you he knew exactly what you meant. But he’d drawn it out, pretending not to catch your hints. It was almost maddening, the way he could pretend to be oblivious.

At one point, he’d even leaned close, murmuring into your ear, “I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, but he’d just grinned, kissing the top of your head as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance with those words.

---

The next day, you both found yourselves wandering the mall. It was supposed to be a quick trip for groceries, but as you passed a baby shop—full of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and adorable little shoes—you couldn’t help but stop, your gaze lingering on a display of baby onesies.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, following your line of sight. “Something catch your eye?” he asked, his voice tinged with that playful edge, and you turned to him with a pointed look, letting your gaze drop deliberately to the baby clothes.

“Oh, I don’t know… Just thinking how cute it would be to have a little one of our own wearing something like this.” You said it casually, trying to keep the edge of hopefulness out of your voice.

But Carlos, ever the tease, just shrugged, giving you an exaggerated, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Our nieces and nephews would look adorable in that.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his arm, biting back an exasperated laugh as he gave you a wink, thoroughly enjoying his role as the clueless one.

Later that evening, after you’d both finally had enough of dancing around the topic, you found yourselves back at home, sitting together on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally lay it all out, not a hint, not a joke—just honesty.

“Carlos,” you began softly, looking down at your hands, “I… I really do want a child. With you. And I’ve been dropping hints, but I think maybe it’s time I just… say it.”

Carlos looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening, a hint of surprise mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

“You should’ve just said so,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he gave you a gentle smile. “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, a mix of relief and joy flooding your chest as you squeezed his hands. “I am ready. I’ve been ready for so long.”

Carlos pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “Then let’s make it happen. Our little family.”

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #f1

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 4 months ago

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Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

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The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

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come-see-our-show · 1 year ago

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I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!

Changed that I liked:

The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.

The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)

Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.

All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.

This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).

The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).

Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.

Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT

megan thee stallion just… being there

Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!

As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷

Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)

Changes that I didn’t like:

Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.

While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!

Other stuff:

The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!

The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me

The EDITING

Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.

Jon Hamm cameo!

Ashley Park cameo!

I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.

I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈

I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩

Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.

The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!

THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)

I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)

DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀

“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*

“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺

Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!

NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭

Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰

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teamcavota · 7 months ago

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50 milo murphy's law facts

5 not so fun and 45 fun!

Not so fun to start!

The only Milo Murphy's Law official merchandise is a notebook released in Japan for the MML X PNF crossover.

Disney actually apologized to Dan (and I assume Swampy) for the treatment of Milo Murphy's Law. Dan has expressed frustration at the MMLs treatment before, citing the Hiatus between s1 and s2 and the fact it did not air on the main Disney Channel.

Doof appears in more episodes than Cavendish and Dakota in s2 (this is the real reason we needed a s3). Also, while PNF/Doof stuff was planned from the start, Disney did push for more PNF.

When season 2 was airing, new episodes would randomly be released in other countries.

Milo was cut from CATU due to a feeling from Disney that audiences would not recognize his cameo.

ok LAME ones out of the way

On the first drawing of Milo there are three names beside it: Milo, Mikey, and...Monty. As you probably know the Mikey one got pretty far and is the name used in the pitch bible (and was referenced with "I am Mikey!".) The reason Mikey was changed to Milo was not a creative choice, but because there was a popular YouTuber named "Mikey Murphy."

Speaking of, Milo was also just going to be another character apart of a different pitch, but Dan kept thinking he should go into his own show. He went to Swampy and asked him what he thought of Milo (at the time Mikey) and the idea of a show about Murphys Law. it took them about an hour to come up with the concept pitch.

You can find several of MML song dubbings on YouTube and other platforms. Most notably the Japanese version (マイロ・マーフィーの法則) highly worth checking out. Fun fact in a fun fact, Doof and Dakota also share the same voice actor in this dubbing.

In re-airings of some of the first MML episodes, second versions were made that included Cavendish and Dakota in the background.

Yes, Melissa was originally going to feel the lasting effects of the pistachion uprising by remaining looking like one instead of Bradley having his arm turned into a vine. This would have been a source of conflict for her in season 2, but in the end they felt it was too much of a change. As far as Bradley's plant arm it was originally only going to come out sometimes before it was changed to being a constant thing. He does have feeling in this arm.

The Island of Lost Dakota's was going to include a scene with merman Dakota's ("merkotas"). There was also going to be "mutation" Dakotas, such as ones with multiple heads.

There exists a live action version of the Milo Murphy's Law theme song. well, sorta, watch it

Before Milo came out Dwampy made the song "we're gonna do it again."

MML was originally set to debut in early 2017.

Weird Al did not originally come to mind for Milo. One of the idea voices they had was Noah Z Jones (Fish Hooks). They auditioned hundreds of people for Milo, but many had issues such as sounding too nervous in their lines. It wasn't until Alex Hirsch (Gravity Falls) posted a photo with Weird Al that Dwampy realized he'd be perfect for the role.

Sara is based on a friend of Dwampy.

In tune with the popular headcanon/fan theory, it's possible they did actually consider making Cavendish a descendant of Milo. When Cavendish was going to agree he also liked Milo, he was going to say he was his descendant. *this may have also just been a joke line

Milo and Cavendish are meant to mirror eachother in the fact Milo deals with Murphy's Law and Cavendish is the "author of his own misery" in regards to things going wrong.

Another thing they considered was the possibility of Dakota and Cavendish being in a romantic relationship, but they ultimately decided they wanted them to have them represent a strong male friendship.

The Milo Murphys Law crew did keep up a fanart and concept art wall. Here, here, and here are some photos.

There was a baby Cavenpus cut from final productions.

There are no official ages for Dakota and Cavendish. Dan has said he believes Cavendish to be older, while Joshua Pruett has said he believes Dakota to be the older one and by a bit of a margin.

Pistachios came to be a thing in the show because a son of some of Dan's neighbors had been allergic to specifically pistachios. They needed an idea for the larger plot and somehow those two came together. (Swampy also notes it's a funny word).

Several of the scripts for MML storyboarders included just the words, "and Murphy's Law happened."

Dan has made at least one Vinnie Dakota dedicated Tiktok similar to his Doof ones.

The Doof and Dakota lines were recorded together, back and forth.

Melissa was going to have a hamster nemesis named Ham. In the Pitch Bible the name wasn't included, but it's explained it was a pet class hamster that would always escape and end up on her things.

The secret handshake Milo and Zack do in scream-a-tourium was intended to be longer.

The studio executive for MML originally thought The Island of Lost Dakota's was a joke idea until he read the script.

There was a MML kids menu at Disneyland circa 2016.

Dakota and Cavendish were originally not in the shows ideas, nor was any B-plot, but being used to it in PNF the writers room felt they "needed something to cut away to"

Joshua Pruett pitched for the MML x PNF crossover for where when Milo opened his backpack to pull out the thing he needed to save the world it'd be...Phineas and Ferb.

Dakota is the reason parking tickets exist, as he can be a bit careless about leaving time vehicles all over the place. Dakota is proud of this.

Melissa's likeness and name is based on Dan's daughter Meli, as to sorta "balance out" Isabella also being based on his other daughter.

They considered a twist where Bob Block would be an alien wearing a face mask.

"Cavendish Farms" is an episode that never came to be pitched by Pruett where in order to track Cavendish Dakota would try to duplicate Cavendish, though none of them would quite be Cavendish. One of the Cavendishs would have a heart to heart with Dakota, while Doof would ultimately call out Dakota for what he's doing and tell Dakota "you already know what he would do." dwampy rejected this idea because this was a bad idea, to which pruett felt that is exactly why Dakota would have tried it. if renewed, pruett would have tried to convince them more on it.

Chop Away at My Heart was originally called "Jump Jump Jump" and was made for another project by one of Dan's friends. After Dan have asked to transform it into something else for Milo, Joshua Pruett suggested a "Lumberjack themed boyband" in the script.

unfortunate split for character block limit

Dakotas voice was inspired by Elvis Costello. It's also the harder voice for Dan in comparison to Doof.

Mark Hamill originally auditioned to play a teacher on the show, but Dwampy liked his audition so much they decided he'd better fit Mr. Block.

In the MML pitch bible it is stated, "Mikey has a destiny to fulfill, something vital to the future of the planet." The goal of Cavendish and Dakota would be to make sure he stays on the right path.

There IS a full version of We're Going to the Zoo, which was played by Dan in this interview at 3:00:30. Several MML songs have had full versions leaked, implying this is probably the case for some other songs too.

Like several other characters, Sara in the MML pitch bible was different from her show counterpart, being "a hipster like Thora Butch in Ghost World."

The song "A World Without Milo" is based on the song "Happy Together" by "The Turtles"

Almost every character, including creatures or minor one-offs had a name in the script. An example is "Pia," the name of the poodle Diogee falls in love with.

In regards to when Dakota talks about cutting through the Mesozoic in First Impressions and the fact it is illogical, Dan says this is likely just Dakota being Dakota (aka, it was a mistake), and not every such line should be taken serious.

In a deleted "Snow Way Out" line it was confirmed that the raccoon in Going the Extra Milo and Fungus Among Us is recurring raccoon.

Brick and Savannah were going to have a role in the crossover.

Story ideas from the MML pitch bible that never came to include a beach episode, a Friday the 13 episode, and an episode where Cavendish and Dakota try convincing Milo to take a self defense class leading to conflict with a hidden ninja gang.

For unspecified characters (probably multiple different sets) Pruett wrote in hugs that were cut by (mostly) Dan. In response, he says he "put 4 in so at least 1 stays."

S3 would have likely included: A third Block (yes, still voiced by Mark Hamill and a Block "family meeting"), Milo creating the universe, Dakota and Cavendish getting the promotion they wanted but being unsatisfied, Elliot cleverly being connected to the overarching plot, AU exploration (akin to pnf) including an episode where Dr Zone is real, and a conclusion to the Prof Time arc. The overarching plot would have been the "biggest yet."

credits to: danvillecheese for suggestions + encouragement, cheetochild989 for facts the fact about going to the zoo and a world without milo, the 2nd dimension on YouTube, my hamsterward friends, and of course all the talented people who worked on MML :3

#mml #milo murphy's law #behind the scenes #on fact 3 I worded it that way because there used to be an entire playlist for the JPN songs but I cant find it now...#on fact 16 I'm really wanting to know how that clicked #bonus fun fact: Dan referred to the mml fan base as “small but rabid” once circa 2021. oh we were #dwampyverse #this was fun

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spasmsofthought · 9 months ago

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the risk (is drowning) [jake seresin x f!reader]

This little 1k piece is 100% inspired by the song Risk by Gracie Abrams. What a masterpiece this song is.

Also a special dedication to all my anxious wallflower girlies (especially those in their mid-to-late twenties). You are seen and loved. You will be wanted. xoxo

Warnings: Some indirect allusions to anxiety/social anxiety.

Please like, comment, reblog. Let me know what you think! xo

on A03 here

+++

"It feels like the universe is pranking me."

The bar is loud and bright and crowded, even in the shadows of the back corner where you and your roommate Alexis are sitting on stools. A remixed pop song is playing from the speakers in the room - it sounds like something you heard in CVS three days ago while picking up your prescription strength Benadryl. Damn hives. You knew better than to let Jessica be the one to choose the takeaway order for lunch. She never remembered anybody's food allergies.

"I wonder," You continue speaking as you swirl the straw in your club soda, "if I'm on some alien reality version of punk'd. I feel like there's a camera trying to catch me over my shoulder. I keep waiting to hear a laugh track in the background."

Alexis just sighs from across you. Then she gives you the look that she's been giving you all evening - full of love but also half-reproach and half-amusement.

"I think you might've coordinated my outfit for nothing," You look down at the number you're wearing. It's something that's much different than you're usual look - not as casual and more flashy. It screams look at me with several exclamation points. You don't remember the last time you wore something to make someone else notice you - not intentionally. You don't really know for sure if it's helping you feel more confident or more like a poser.

"I wore mascara for no reason." You slump against the wall at your back. "He hasn't shown up. I don't even think he's going to be here tonight."

There's a minute of semi-silence where you take in the ambiance of the place. You notice that the music over the speakers has changed genres to a popular country song that has some people by the pool table swaying or singing along at the counter with beer bottles in their hands pretending that they're microphones.

"Speak of the devil," Alexis smirks at you and then points her chin towards the direction of the front door. She's not wrong.

There he is in all of his golden glory. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant, Naval aviator, Top Gun graduate.

He's never actually introduced himself to you; you've never met him. It's not that hard to get a beat on who he is though - he's all anyone ever talks about in this place. You notice you're staring and swivel your attention back to Alexis.

The amount of times you've daydreamed about his eyes or, God, his hands feels almost wrong due to the fact that you've never even spoken a word to the man.

He really is just your type: a blue-eyed all-American boy with a killer smile and all the confidence in the world. You can practically feel the rush of heat to your face and you bring your soda to your lips for a quick swallow.

It had been really challenging at first, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and intentionally choosing to spend time with crowds of people, even if it's really only Alexis you ever talk to. It's taken months to feel much more comfortable even hanging in the back corner of a bar like this.

Jake had been a regular before this became your weekend hangout spot with Alexis and ever since the first day you saw him you'd known that he wasn't the type of person to escape anybody's notice. Whether it's his natural charisma or a learned charm, you looked at him once and haven't stopped looking.

Your life has always felt more monotone - shades of black and white with spots of blue or green or yellow or pink here and there. Even from far away, you can tell that Jake Seresin's life is in full, vibrant technicolor. You keep wondering what that must be like.

"If there's any time to shoot your shot it'd be now, before the groupies surround him." Alexis advises you.

He's just making his way to the bar counter after calling out greetings or doing that weird bro handshake guys do with each other when they're acquaintances but don't know each other that well.

You don't know why you came tonight, why you confessed this to her in the first place. You don't know why your mind has been stuck on a Jake Seresin loop. Why this has been the one thing it hasn't let go of.

You're almost ready to bolt out of there, indecision weighing heavy on your shoulders. The indecision isn't even the worst part because you're friends with indecision. It's been there for you all your life.

It's the fact that you want to go up there and introduce yourself to him that's actually terrifying. You can't remember the last time you wanted something like this. Have you?

"If you don't get up and go over there yourself, I will make you."

Your mom used to tell you that the only way you started learning how to swim as a young girl was when she tossed you into the deep end of the pool with a swimming instructor and you had to learn first-hand, in the moment, how to paddle in water to keep from drowning.

"But he's so hot," You whisper, leaning across the table as your hands start to shake, "I'm no supermodel on a runway. I've never even had a boyfriend."

"How have I never known that you're in your late twenties and never had a boyfriend?" Alexis gapes, one of her hands coming to cover your shaking ones.

"Never even been on a real date, actually." You grimace and lean away, pulling your hands out from under hers.

"I'm not going to force you," Alexis softens, "If you're really not ready, we can go and come back some other time."

You take a deep breath in, then a slow breath out. "What if he shoots me down?" What if I drown in rejection?

"Remember what you said when we took that philosophy course on morality in grad school and we were arguing about what it means for a person to have 'character'?" You frown at Alexis' words. Grad school, where you met her and became life-long friends, feels like a lifetime ago. "You said, 'It's your motivations and actions that make you who you are.' If you go over there and he's the one that rejects you, that is communicating something to you about who he is. His rejection is not about you."

You take a second breath and shrug, "That makes sense, I guess."

"There's a reason I'm your best friend y'know." Alexis flips her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm worth this," You nod your head adamantly, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. But your eyes don't meet nothing. It's only a quick glance, but there's a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Something that tells you that you won't be making a complete fool of yourself.

"Damn right you are," Alexis says.

You slowly stand up from your seat against the wall, shaking your hands out. You're going to let what you want override your indecision and anxiety, even if it's just for sixty seconds.

"Okay, okay, okay," You whisper to yourself. Taking a step and then turning back towards Alexis.

"You've got this," She reassures you. "Go, be brave."

Your turn around and walk forward, Jake Seresin in your sights. Maybe you in his, based on the second glance your garner. You turn your head one last time to give Alexis and anxious, unsure smile and then you walk the rest of the way to the bar counter by yourself. You don't look back.

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what-eats-owls · 3 months ago

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It matters how you do it

I finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard and had some big feelings about it. Spoilers for basically everything under the cut, and frankly, it won't make sense unless you've finished the game anyway.

First of all: I had a blast with this game. I didn't find Act 1 slow, I did find Act 2 a bit of a whack-a-mole, and then Act 3 kicks you in the kidney (complementary) while insisting it's for your own good.

I've seen some recurring complaints: that it lacks depth/edge/darkness, that it abandons previous lore, that the previous choices don't matter. I don't entirely disagree. To me, it felt like a massive Dragon Age 4 game that pivoted to a different, tighter game after complaints about bloat in Inquisition. The key is that when editing down, there's such a thing as trying to trim the fat and taking a chunk of the roast with it.

I enjoy the concept of Lucanis's character, and the voice actor sold the hell out of him, but the storyline felt like being taken to a museum and allowed to see one (1) beautiful unfinished sculpture. Why did Spite, specifically, work? We know the spirit of Justice became Vengeance by abomination, we knew Solas was Wisdom before he became Pride, so what was Spite before, and why wasn't that tied to Lucanis's own personal arc? (Doubly so if you romance him!)

Similarly, Harding was a delight, and her greenhouse was such a lovely little haven. I would have loved to see more explanation of the connection between plants and the titans, and how Harding's own personal struggles with rage connected to that of the titans. She has every reason to be angry and scared, and the game tells us she pushed that away—but we don't actually see her toxic positivity manifest to that degree, until she abruptly has an angry clone.

On the flip side, I loved the other five character quests, and I felt they had solid, poignant arcs that delivered. I also adored their interactions with the codex—if anything, I wanted to see more of that type of interaction on the screen. You have to fill in a lot of the character work for Rook yourself; Rook has all these interesting potential backgrounds, but I think starting the game playing through those, a la Origins, would have gone miles towards establishing more personal stakes up front and made for a stronger start.

So that's all my nitpicking. But let's talk about the bigger theme: It matters how you do it.

In the first Fade conversation with Solas, he gets so mad when Rook refuses to let him DARVO them about the consequences of his botched ritual. This makes way more sense when you understand he's literally imprisoned by his own regrets, and he needs Rook to have that same kind of regret in order to take his place. His entire arc is about rationalizing binary choices and shitty actions that hurt others in the name of a hypothetical greater good that he wants.

Solas can't engineer every binary choice Rook's forced into, but he uses Varric to maximize Rook's regret. He is trying to quite literally mold Rook into him, and the game is great at presenting this both as a coldblooded manipulation and a broken plea for validation—if you let it. You don't have to give Solas a moment of consideration; you don't have to take time to view his memories, or kill his demons, or listen to those scraps of Mythal still holding onto the good in him. You don't have to do any of it.

But you can. And in the end, it matters.

It matters because for every companion, you can encourage them to either be more nurturing/compassionate or destructive/closed off versions of themselves, and that is frequently tied to continuing or breaking from a cycle. (The exception is either Neve or, presumably, Lucanis, who are forced into the Hardened version depending on which city you save.) These aren't presented as morally opposing choices, just who you want them to be. You can see how the Grey Wardens fucked up bad with griffons and decide they have a better place. You can help Emmrich face his fear by finding deeper meaning in life instead of indefinitely postponing death. You can help them do things differently.

So when you get to the final choice in the game, you may have two options: physically force Solas into saving the Veil, or trick him into it. The kind of binary choice Solas has molded you into making by pelting you with cruelty and manipulation.

Or, if you've taken the time, you can get him to understand he's wrong. You bring out the people who saw the best in him and speak to what he's had to endure, even as you're showing him there's another way. You reach him not as Pride, but as Wisdom. And he goes willingly.

Ultimately, I think DA2 and Inquisition grappled with big questions of oppression and violence, faith and authority. It makes sense for those games to delve into harder, uglier subject matter, and ask you to make binary calls.

But my read of Veilguard is that, at its core, it's about how those decisions are meant to trap you in regret at best, and numb you to rationalizing cruelty at worst. It's why the companion who loses their home city becomes colder, more isolated, in response—more like Solas.

That's why it offers you a third way at the very end, but only if you've worked for it. A better way is possible, yet it has to be more than words. You have to understand where the pain comes from, what maintains and is being maintained by the current cycle. Then, and only then, can you break it.

I can't wait to play it again.

P.S. Utterly obsessed with the Trevisan fish merchant.

#dragon age #datv #veilguard #text posts #spoilers #fish

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madthetruemad · 12 days ago

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Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 27 | Your Happy Ending Too

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

It happened again. Yet another slew of dreams of past lives would enter her thoughts and fester there. She would see Satoru’s face, his smile, his eyes… and she would see her own death. Like a movie playing in slow-mo. And lately, these deaths have become clearer in her mind.

Some deaths were caused by people she couldn’t even remember the names of, but most of the time… almost every single time… her death would come at the hands of Satoru. Sukuna sometimes follows the same pattern.

She ached to talk to Satoru about this, but she always got this weird feeling in her gut anytime she wanted to mention it. Like something or someone was going to snap at her. Should she ask-?

“Your face is all scrunchy again,” Gojo chuckled as he squished her cheeks. Tonight was movie night at his place. her back was to his chest as she sat in his lap on his couch. A warm blanket covering them both as a movie played in the background.

“Sorry… just thinking.”

“About what?”

That was another thing she noticed. Much like the other lives, this Gojo was just as pushy and inquisitive. It was as if he needed to know everything about her at all times. Or, at least, that was the feeling that he gave off.

“It’s about my, well, our past lives…”

She felt his hands fall from her face and fall to her waist. She could already feel how his arms slowly started to tighten like a vice to keep her where she sat in his lap.

“What about them?”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, she could feel how her heart hammered in her chest, but she steadied herself as much as possible.

“My deaths.”

“Your deaths?”

She nodded, “more specifically… how you were the one who would kill me most of the time.”

She waited for him to say something, anything really, but what surprised her the most was when he started to laugh. His chest rumbled against her back before he leant forward. His chin resting on her shoulder as his eyes would peek up at her.

“So you remembered after all.”

“And you remembered all this time.”

He hummed in response as he nuzzled his face into her neck, “you know, I don’t know why it was only ever me who remembered our lives together. I always thought it was a curse because it meant that I was the only one looking for you in each life.”

He kissed her cheek before easily lifting her and maneuvering her so that she was facing him in his lap, her legs straddling his waist.

“And imagine my surprise when you finally started to remember. I was ecstatic at first. Until I realized the potential of you remembering your deaths…”

“Why did you do it…”

“Do what?”

“Kill me like that… kill me so often?”

“Cause it was never the right life. It wasn’t our happy ending.”

She frowned at his words as she placed her hands against his chest to push herself away a little. She needed space. Space away from him.

“Our happy ending?”

“We were always meant to be. You and me. But things kept getting in the way. Not like it mattered though. I was determined to get my happy ending with you. No matter how many lives we lived, I would always find you.”

“And how about now?”

“What about it?”

He gripped her wrists and pulled her close, her lips barely brushing against his.

“Now that I remember, you won’t get that happy ending.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?”

“Because I know and remember all that you did.”

He hummed again before smiling that same grin that she always seemed to love. A part of herself couldn’t believe what was happening. The sister school exchange event was right around the corner, Itadori was almost finished with his training, and she … she just had to open her mouth about the memories that have been filtering into her dreams.

She almost wanted to kiss him and make this night end.

“That… is not going to stop me from having a happy ending with you. Starting over would be a waste, especially since we’re in a perfect part of our lives right now, and the fact that I have you right where I want you. And honestly, if you truly hated me, you would be trying to get away right about now, wouldn’t you?”

He let his hand trail to the back of her neck, “and even if somehow, someway either of us die in this new life… I’ll just look for you in the next. My happy ending begins with you, and these lives will continue until you see that I’m your happy ending too.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x you #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n

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sisternightroad · 8 months ago

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Lady Oscar's flaws and weaknesses

In case someone is interested, I've written in an italian blog a small analysis of Oscar from Rose of Versailles, so I've translated it to post it here too.

Thank you for the dive into the past. To give some context, I primarily base myself on the manga because it is the original medium and, as almost always, the most complete. The original Oscar is very different from that of the anime, because the latter makes different narrative choices from the beginning. Among other things, since Oscar is not born as a protagonist but as a sidekick to Marie Antoinette, her character is initially less deep and set up differently.

Moreover, the anime has a predominantly dark and dramatic tone, but the contents have been overall very softened, especially in the edition with Italian dubbing, while the manga alternates comic moments with moments of great tragedy and violence, even very brutal for a shojo of the time. But let’s cut to the chase:

From the beginning, Oscar is characterized as a tomboy, which serves as a recurring comic element in the story. Even at the time of her birth, her father mistakes her for a boy because she screams and thrashes about like a little boy.

[Oscar’s birth in volume 1 and a comic callback in volume 6]

Despite her refined and elegant appearance, she often behaves in a decidedly rude manner, spits and swears. In her character profile, the author emphasizes that she always behaves like a man and loves weapons, alcohol, occasionally going to drink in the commoners bars and that her flaw is that she is ready to start a fight.

[A snippet of Oscar’s profile and a brawl from volume 3]

Another thing went a bit lost among the transpositions is that Oscar is a huge troll. She often behaves in a brazen and insolent way to mock scandals, pettiness and gossip of court life. The funniest example is when her father wants her to organize a ball to find a husband, in the anime criminally reduced to an innocent scene. General Jarjayes asks her to commission a dress from the best tailor in Paris and Oscar shows up at the ball with a flashy dress uniform complete with bell-bottom pants in '70s style. To complete the work, she spends the evening dancing and flirting with her throng of admirers, even kissing two and threatening to duel a guy she stole the girlfriend from. Priceless.

[Lady Oscar happily trolling her father and her suitor Girodelle who, along with the other contenders, despair in the background in volume 6]

Moving on to more serious matters, in both versions Oscar is notoriously cool and detached, but in the manga she is less fickle, impulsive and reckless. She tends to be a risk-taker, but most of the time the risks she takes are calculated or at least justified. One of the first big examples is when she threatens Madame du Barry with her sword for trying to frame Oscar’s mother for the poisoning of a maid. In this case, she draws her sword in defense of her mother to scare du Barry, because she knows even the countess may not want it to be known what happened.

[Oscar threatens Countess du Barry with her sword in volume 2]

In addition, beneath her cold exterior, she often shows herself to be emotional and quick-tempered, characteristics that come out especially during the most dramatic moments, such as the killing of the child by the Duke of Guémené, when the black knight injures André’s eye or the soldiers of the French guard want to push her to punish them.

[Oscar getting furious about the extravagances orchestrated by the Duchess de Polignac in volume 4]

In the manga, Oscar does not live her military career as an imposition, but rather as a source of pride. Also for this reason, she shows from a very young age to be competitive, ambitious and even a bit arrogant. In fact, she is the one who personally requests the assignments of the capture of Jeanne de Valois or the arrest of the black knight, thanks to which she reaches the rank of brigadier general and, if she had not let the latter escape, she would have advanced at least one more rank. Moreover, in the comic she decides to join the French guard not to get away from Fersen, but to prove that she can make it even outside the privileged environment of the royal guard.

[An adorable little Oscar who already thinks big in volume 1]

Since Oscar, like all nobles, has always lived a privileged and protected existence, especially at the beginning she is naive and ignorant about the conditions of the world and the people around her. It is also for this reason that she is sometimes excessively indulgent towards Marie Antoinette and tends not to take into account André’s feelings for her, even though she knows he loves her.

[A moment of tragic realization on Oscar’s part in volume 5]

Finally, Oscar has an ambivalent relationship towards her femininity. While this does not represent a flaw in itself, it remains one of her major weaknesses that makes her suffer and rends her very vulnerable. While she is in every way a woman, she occupies a place that in a very rigid and hierarchical society is traditionally reserved for men and she wants to be treated like a man. For this reason, she often shows to consider feelings as something exclusively feminine to reject. This side of her identity cracks when Oscar’s expectations and desires as a woman and those as a soldier clash with each other, such as when she falls in love with Fersen and for the first time in her life she dresses as a woman for him or when her father wants to push her to retire from the army and marry Girodelle. This would force her in each case to give up an important part of her life and identity. Only at the end does she understand, after André dies and she stays by his side instead of returning immediately to the battlefield, in the scene that I find the most touching in the manga, that her feelings do not make her a “woman”, but human.

[Oscar crying over André’s death in volume 8, much better than that crap of episode 39]

I want to close by saying that this is a manga and a character that I love very much also and especially for its shortcomings and very human imperfections. It is these gaps that push her to mature beyond the boundaries of her golden cage and to break down the social and personal barriers that prevent her from living her life not simply as a man or a woman but as herself.

It is by navigating her complex and difficult feelings, touching firsthand the despair of ordinary people and gaining the respect of her rebellious subordinates that she understands that she is only a small cog in the great wheel of History and thus comes to choose which side of it she really wants to be on.

#rose of versailles #versailles no bara #lady oscar #riyoko ikeda #manga #oscar françois de jarjayes #analysis #character analysis

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missmonsters2 · 1 year ago

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Mirror, Mirror | Five

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART FOUR

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Deleting the video evidence of Wanda's embarrassing confession only goes slightly awry, and in the end, she can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed with herself. Perhaps she can get advice from someone who was once in her position.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: There's still an epilogue after this!! But after that, it's done </3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4,6k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda jiggles her key through the door with a renewed rush. Her hands are shaky, and she should really just take her time. This wasn't making it go any faster.

Darcy had just dropped her off after they ate their McDonald's meal in the parking lot and was on her way back to get access to her laptop to help Wanda.

Finally unlocking the door, Wanda took her shoes off haphazardly and took off towards your room. Your laptop sits innocently at your desk, unaware of all the havoc Wanda will reap upon it if it doesn't give her access to your email.

She pulls out the chair and sits down before she opens it up. The first thing that greets her is the password page. Wanda pulls out the USB that Darcy gave her and plugs it in. All she can do now is wait since Darcy said she'd text Wanda once she made it home.

The next 15 minutes feel like a bottomless pit of hell. Wanda checks her watch every couple of minutes, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Come on, come on, come on," Wanda huffs quietly. She's extremely paranoid about what you might be doing. It's unlikely you'd be returning home tonight, and even if you were, it'd be a couple of hours from now.

Yet, the unhinged part of Wanda wants to pull out her phone and text you, "Hey, what's up? You're still busy sexing up Raye, right? Definitely not ideal, but you're not checking your emails or on your way home, right?

Wanda wishes she made Natasha go stakeout Raye's house to alert her when you were leaving the place. Before she can think more insane thoughts, her phone vibrates in her hand, and Wanda checks it with speed. It was from Darcy confirming she'd made it home and it'd be any minute now.

Wanda looks up at your laptop screen, pushing her finger against the mousepad to ensure the screen doesn't time out. The USB must give Darcy some kind of access because, true to her word, something does start happening.

Wanda watches the screen with mild interest as a separate window pops up. The background is black, but it's clearly some kind of coding as random words begin running. It takes a few minutes, but then asterisks fill your password box. It only takes 3 times before the right password is entered and Wanda's gained access.

"Yes!" She celebrates before she sends Darcy a quick text.

Wanda pulls up your email and finds the latest one sent to you is a link to a Google Drive. There are many videos and some photos, but Wanda recognizes herself in one of the thumbnails and clicks on it.

"I don't see what's so great about Raye—"

Wanda immediately stops playing it, unable to bear the embarrassment of hearing herself. She quickly deletes the clip, also going to the trash bin to make sure it's permanently deleted. Wanda checks everything several times to ensure there are no other clips and any trace of her confession is gone.

Mission completed.

Relief floods her system, knowing that the clip has been deleted.

Wanda closed everything she opened, making sure she changed the status of the email to unread. Once everything is as it was, Wanda closes your laptop and unplugs the USB.

Stuffing the USB into her pocket, she's about to send another text to Darcy when Wanda hears the front door open, and you call out her name. You must've seen her shoes at the door, but Wanda still doesn't answer. She hears you walking back down the hallway toward your room and panics.

Oh, god, she couldn't walk back out that door without bumping into you, and she couldn't jump out the window either with them living on the 10th floor.

Oh, fuck, what does she do? Wanda's panicking as she shakes her hands in hysteria and looks around frantically.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Wanda carefully makes her way to your closet, but it's filled wall to wall with your clothes, and the floor is filled with your shoes and other boxes. There was no room to hide in there.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Wanda's walking around your room and has no idea where to hide. She looks at your bed and internally groans. Dropping to her knees, she scoots herself until she's fully underneath, flat on her stomach, but her head is kept off the floor. She quickly opens her phone and turns it from vibration mode to silence—Wanda refuses to be caught. She would rather die than even try and explain all of this.

The door opens, and Wanda only gets a few of your slippers as you make your way back to your desk. She hears a soft clank on the desk, and Wanda can only assume it's the mug of tea you have every night.

Wanda hears you sigh quietly as you seem to settle in for the night. This is not good. This is fucking terrible.

Wanda can't tell how long she's been stuck under your bed. She's too worried about moving and accidentally making a noise. All she hears is the soft music playing and your mouse and keyboard clicking.

Suddenly, her phone lights up with a notification. It's a text from you.

Wanda bites her lip, trying to decide if she should answer. Ultimately, she decides she should because it's possible you might try to call her if she doesn't, and she definitely can't answer it if you do. Wanda would also feel bad about not answering you if you're worried.

But, god fucking dammit, she's going to have to lie. Again.

Wanda hears a breathy chuckle from you and tries not to smile.

Fuck.

Wanda doesn't know if she should say yes or no. If she says yes, will you wait until she gets home? Wanda can only dread how long she might be stuck under your bed.

The chair you're sitting scrapes against the floor a little. A reply doesn't come for a few minutes, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were doing.

Wanda stares at the text, trying to see if she can decipher your tone from just the words alone. It's something you've told her countless times when she told you she'd be staying at Vision's place. Yet, somehow, this feels different.

You stop replying to her after that. It's both a relief that Wanda could stop digging herself into another hole and a torture she's left without much to do again.

Wanda checks some of her other texts and replies to them, but her battery life is getting exceedingly low, and she doesn't want it to die on her accidentally if you do decide to text her again.

The last time she opened the phone to check the time, an hour and a half had passed. There's almost a desperation to give herself up and come clean to relinquish herself from the sheer boredom, but Wanda holds strong since she reasons she'd already made it this far.

"Hmm," Wanda hears you let out a deep hum. The mouse clicks a few times, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were staring at.

Definitely not her confession video; that much comforts Wanda.

God, she's bored. She's so bored that the fear has long left her body.

It's a miracle when Wanda hears you get up and stretch, a few cricks released from your back. You leave the room, and Wanda hears the bathroom door shut.

Wanda scrambles to get out from under the bed, nearly hitting her head 5 times. She quickly tiptoes out of your room, heading for the front door and opening it. Just as you're coming out of the bathroom, Wanda shuts the door as if she's just gotten in.

"Wanda, is that you?" You call from the hallway.

"Yep! You're still up?" Wanda calls back, laughing nervously to herself about how stupid this all was, but relief she was clearly getting away with it.

"Yeah, just thought I'd get a start on the editing stuff for Tony," you say as Wanda walks towards you.

"Oh, cool," Wanda doesn't inquire further but says, "I thought you were staying at Raye's tonight?"

"Oh, uh," you seem surprised that Wanda asks. "I was having a hard time falling asleep on her bed. The mattress is too soft and gives me the worst cricks."

"Oh," Wanda nods, knowing that your mattress is memory foam but on the firmer side.

"What about you?" You ask back. "Didn't go home with Darcy?"

"Uh, no," Wanda fumbles slightly. "Uh, it was good, but I, uh, was getting a slight stomachache from the McDonald's so I decided to go home."

You frown. "Do you want some tea? Maybe some Tums?"

"Maybe some ginger and honey tea?"

You nod. "Alright, I'll get some ready for you. Why don't you go take your makeup off and whatnot? We could watch some TV before we sleep."

"Oo," Wanda grins. "I think I saw some things come out on Disney+, let's see what they have!"

The rollercoaster of the night comes to a satisfying end for Wanda.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next three weeks are odd for Wanda. During the first and second weeks, she was so busy with her clients and a whole PR mess that she barely had time to see you.

She spends more time collaborating with her team about how they will dig one of their clients out of the mess they'd made or if they should just drop the client. She's barely been able to think about her feelings for you and what to do about it.

By the time the third week arrives, everything at work finally slows down, and she has time to herself like a regular person again. Wanda reflects back on her position and the entire video-deleting debacle.

With the fear and adrenaline long gone, Wanda can't actually tell if she's disappointed that you haven't discovered her feelings. Would things have just been easier if you had watched the video?

At the very least, it might be better in the sense Wanda wouldn't be stuck in the same place.

Wanda's sitting on the couch, lazily trying to focus on her book but can't with her mind continuously drifting. You haven't been home as of late—Wanda only realized you've been out a lot for a week and a half now.

Sighing, Wanda closes her book. She was getting bored again. You wouldn't be home until later, and she already spent an hour on the phone with Natasha earlier.

Just as Wanda was about to text you to ask if there was any possibility you'd be home earlier, the front doorknob jiggled, signaling someone was putting in their key.

Wanda smiles, hoping she'll see you walk through the door, but smiles even wider when she sees who walks through it.

Getting up from the couch, Wanda runs and jumps, latching onto the person.

"Oof," the voice was gruff.

"Bucky!" Wanda yells excitedly as Bucky catches her, wrapping his arm around her to ensure she doesn't fall, even though her legs are around him.

"Hi, nutball," Bucky says, but his mouth is muffled by Wanda's shoulder and some of her hair.

Wanda slowly slides back down onto the floor, taking a good look at Bucky. Of all the people she adores besides you, Bucky is at the top of her list, along with Natasha, which is why they both have key fobs to the apartment.

Bucky kind of reminds her of Pietro in certain ways, if Pietro would ever grow up and get a little serious. Bucky seems to know that and has cared for Wanda in Pietro's stead now that the guy has left for Europe since they turned 18.

"When did you get back?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you call? I would've arranged to pick you up from the airport."

"It's fine. Steve picked me up from the airport and we relaxed a little bit before he had to leave to the station to do some kind of sketch for a case," Bucky says as he takes off his shoes.

They wander back into the living room space and take a seat. Bucky had brought her some coffee and pastries that Wanda delighted over.

"So," Wanda says after a sip of her coffee. "How was California?"

"Hot," Bucky smiles.

"You said you were going to train an upcoming actor in a movie, right?"

Bucky nods, sipping his own coffee. "Yeah, some new superhero movie. Pretty young; I think he just turned 18. Definitely now super ripped for an 18 year old," Bucky laughs.

"Does he need a PR agent?" Wanda grins.

Bucky rolls his eyes with mirth. "Probably not since he has his manager handling everything, but I did pass your card along."

"You're good people."

Bucky snorts, and they spend another half hour catching up before he finally comes to the topic he's been waiting to discuss. "You know, Steve brought up something interesting."

"Oh, yeah?" Wanda raises her brow.

"Steve was bringing up how Bug seems to be seeing someone," Bucky says slowly. "And she looks a lot like you...like everyone else Bug has dated."

Wanda lets out a huge groan. "Steve should eat rocks and jump into the ocean."

Bucky laughs, leaning back onto the couch, and smiles. "So? What do you think?"

"About what?"

Bucky gives her a side-eye, and she groans quietly this time.

"Fine," she grumbles. "It was strange to realize, but like, a good strange. I don't know. I want...I want her to look at me."

Wanda's blushing at the admittance to Bucky. It makes her feel shy, but also good that someone else close to her knows and will be on her side.

"Have you confessed?"

"Not exactly."

"Ah, so you haven't done shit except probably rope people into your weird schemes that turn out poorly."

Wanda's jaw drops. "I have not—okay, well, I mean, I wouldn't say they turned out poorly." She would never tell Bucky about the videotaping incident. She was taking that to her grave.

Bucky eyes Wanda, taking in the small expressions on her face and the muted longing in her eyes as she picks at her nails. "You're so much like me, sometimes I'm convinced that you're actually my little sister," Bucky grins, and Wanda mirrors him. "Don't tell Pietro that, though. He's gets so jealous."

Wanda just gives him an, 'obviously,' look.

"When I started realizing my feelings for Steve, I didn't say anything for a long, long time, and I've known I've liked Steve since we were boys making mudpies," Bucky leans his head back against the couch, the coffee resting between his hands on his stomach. "I kept thinking about what if Steve didn't feel the same? And then there was the whole Peggy situation, and I didn't want to break that up."

"You're better than me," Wanda sighs. "I would break them up in a heartbeat if I knew how she felt about me."

Bucky can't hold his laugh in for that but continues on. "I think a lot of those fears I had paralyzed me. I kept thinking I'd have more time and there was a right moment, or if I did certain things, Steve would feel the same. I just had to wait it out."

"So, what happened?"

Bucky gave her a wan smile. "Steve and Peggy, even though they'd be on and off, were getting more serious. One night, Steve told me he was thinking about proposing."

"What?" Wanda's jaw drops. She's never heard of this. "But obviously he didn't because you guys are together now."

"Yeah," Bucky laughs, "because I totally freaked out. I started saying he couldn't and then kissed him, and then started crying. It was a mess."

"Oh, god," Wanda rests her hand against her mouth. She could totally see herself doing that to you if you said the same thing. Now, she's starting to freak out if you're getting serious with Raye.

"I think you know what I'm getting at," Bucky says, turning his head to look over at Wanda, and she feels vaguely uncomfortable. "You need to say something—now. There's no perfect timing. There's nothing extra you can do to magically know, and you're not gonna always have more time."

Wanda lets her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. They start to sting with tears, and she feels that same fear creep into her belly. Yet, Bucky's words resonate with her, and she suppresses that fear until it settles into a muted nervousness.

"Fuck, I swear you and Steve planned this."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Despite Wanda's talk with Bucky, she says absolutely nothing to you when you arrive home late in the evening. Wanda's eyes are glued to the TV, watching How I Met Your Mother absently.

You seemed to have a long day yourself as you carefully sat next to her on the couch.

The air feels weird, and there's a tension in your shoulders. It starts to make Wanda tense until you suddenly relax with a deep breath. You shuffle in your seat before scooting until you're pressed against Wanda's side, resting your head against her shoulder.

The smell of clean laundry and leaves fills Wanda's nose, and she relaxes against you.

"Wanna order in?" You say.

"Yeah," Wanda replies, pulling out her phone to see what she was in the mood for. The two of you quickly place an order and continue to sit in silence, watching the TV.

You seem deep in thought, but you grab Wanda's hand at some point, holding it with keen interest.

Wanda doesn't say anything. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears are warm as you stroke the back of her hand with your thumb. Her heart doesn't speed up, but it begins to thud noticeably harder in her chest.

It continues like that until the food arrives, and it's also eaten in silence with the background noise of the TV. Yet, whenever Wanda looks up, she finds you staring at her, and you don't break eye contact.

It's strange, and it's making Wanda feel somewhat nauseous.

When the food is done and put away, the two of you settle back onto the couch, but Wanda doesn't think she can handle the silence anymore.

"How was your day?"

You turn your head, staring at Wanda, and reply softly. "Okay...how was yours? Bucky told me he stopped by to see you."

Wanda tenses. "Yeah," she mumbles. "It was good seeing him again."

"It's nice that he's home," you nod. "I'm sure Steve is happy."

Steve doesn't deserve to be happy, Wanda pettily thinks. It was his fault that Wanda felt so nervous that she felt like she would puke.

Wanda needs to say something.

She knows she needs to say something now like Bucky told her to.

All those same fears and anxiety creep up, but frustration has also lingered in her since the day she realized her feelings for you.

Wanda's tired, she realizes. She's also sick of saying nothing and watching you be with someone else. She's scared but would rather say something and be put out of her misery than continue saying nothing.

Just as Wanda is about to say something else, you say something first.

"I broke up with Raye."

Just like that, the wind is blown out of her sails, and Wanda's brain stalls. "What?"

"I," you clear your throat, "broke up with Raye."

"When?"

"A week and a half ago."

"And you're just telling me now?"

Your brow scrunches, and you turn in your seat to fully face Wanda as you cross your legs on the couch. You're fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "Yes...I needed to think."

"Think about what?"

You wet your lips. "If...if it was worth it potentially ruining our friendship for something more."

Wanda's heart drops like an amusement park ride. Her stomach feels the same way it does when an airplane is ascending.

She had all these things she was going to say to you just a minute ago, and now her head was empty, and all she could think about was what you were trying to say.

"I think it is...if you feel the same, which I know you do unless something's changed in the last three weeks."

"How do you know?" Wanda frowns. Then again, she wasn't trying to be sly about it the last few months. Maybe you've finally caught on.

Wait, Wanda pauses. Three weeks? That was when—

You pull out an SD card from your pocket. Wanda's around you enough to know what that is, and her stomach sinks.

"You know," you give her a small smile. "I was trying to edit the video together for Tony the night after the party, but as I was going through the footage, a third of the photos or videos were corrupted."

Wanda thinks back to the USB she returned to Darcy. Dammit, Darcy! That lying, sneaking, betraying—

"I didn't think much of it, but I had to meet up with the videographer to get the original files. You'd never guess what was on there," you smile wryly. "Or maybe you do since you've somehow deleted it from my Google Drive...and corrupted the other files, so I'd have to get the originals. Very conflicting motives I was getting."

"I didn't mean to corrupt the other files," Wanda mumbles. "But you should probably get your laptop professionally cleaned..."

You give her a weird look but chuckle with a shake of your head. "You're super kooky, you know."

"I do know," Wanda rolls her eyes. "I think you know as well."

"I thought I might've seen you on my first date with Raye. That rock that hit that car wouldn't happen to be something you know about, do you?"

"Not at all," Wanda replies quickly. "But if I did, I'm sure the person would want to say she wasn't aiming for the car or your head."

"So, just Raye's head?"

"Once again, not a clue what the intention was as it wasn't me."

You laugh, and Wanda joins in until it fades, and you bite your bottom lip. "I don't know how any of this works, Wanda. I've never dated anyone I consider my best friend."

"I would hope not," Wanda raises her brow at you. "That means someone else was your best friend and you've committed the ultimate betrayal."

You roll your eyes with a mirth and a smile.

"I haven't either," Wanda says softly, slowly turning fully toward you, grabbing your hand, and lacing your fingers together. "But I want to. And no matter what happens, we're gonna be okay. I don't think I'll ever love anyone the way I love you. I think I've loved you for a really, really long time."

"Me too," you mumble, squeezing Wanda's hand, feeling shy. "I don't think I ever really thought about it. I just love you. You're my best friend and I love you."

"Now I'm your girlfriend," Wanda grins, leaning closer and closing her eyes.

"Whoa, okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. What if we're not even sexually compatible?"

Wanda pulls back and looks at your face, shocked. It's stony and serious until your lip twitches and Wanda smacks you.

"Ugh, you're such a brat!"

"No, that's you. I'm stinky."

"Stinky."

"Brat."

"Bug."

"Witch."

"Oh, we're bringing back middle school nicknames, are we?" Wanda narrows her eyes at you. You're about to say something else, but Wanda's had enough.

Didn't she think something earlier about being sick of saying nothing? What was she thinking? Saying nothing sounds ideal.

Wanda launches herself across the seat into you, hearing you grunt as she topples you over onto the couch and presses her lips against yours.

It's not a dream this time, Wanda's very sure.

This was much, much better than any dream could give her. It feels better.

Your lips are soft, and you taste faintly like the cookie you split with her earlier.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Wanda's mind is racing. She's finally kissing you.

Oh my god, she was kissing you!

You were kissing her back!

Wanda kisses you, pressing her lips over yours over and over as your fingers trail over the outside of her thighs and stroke up to her back. You're bolder than her as your fingers dip under her shirt, pressing her against bare skin.

It's thrilling; Wanda almost can't lie still on top of you. Goosebumps are forming, and it's forming everywhere.

You break the kiss, lips caressing her jaw, and scatter light kisses as they trail down her throat.

Your hand moves higher up Wanda's back and pauses.

"No bra?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't leave the house today," Wanda mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You hum. "No complaints here," you resume your caresses of her bare skin but pause again. "Wanna move to the bedroom?"

No, Wanda thinks. She doesn't want to detach herself from this position. She doesn't want your touch or your kisses to stop.

You can tell that Wanda's debating the pros and cons, and you try to persuade her. "A bed will give us more room to do things...and I want to do a lot of things..." You nibble on her collarbone.

Wanda lets out a soft moan, and her toes curl.

"Okay, fine," Wanda acquiesces, getting up and pulling you along with her. "Move quickly, though. No dallying."

"Dallying? I would never," you smile as Wanda pulls you down the hall. "I'll mirror you perfectly."

"I think you always have," Wanda says softly, turning to look at you. "That's why it's taken us so long to get here. We're stupid."

You laugh. "Seems like one of us deviated from our mirror, mirror dance."

The two of you enter Wanda's bedroom, and she falls back onto it, pulling you on top of her.

Your body heat spreads across hers, and Wanda thinks she's dizzy again.

"Good," Wanda mumbles, cupping your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. "I'm tired of us being chickens."

You press a kiss to her, smiling against her lips. One arm wraps around Wanda while the other trails under the front of Wanda's shirt.

"Speak for yourself," your fingers trail higher and higher. "Maybe I'm just stupid." You press another kiss, lingering a moment longer, and then pull away. "Chicken."

"Stupid," Wanda smiles, her lips grazing yours when she does.

"Witch."

"Bug."

"Brat."

"Stinky."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Wanda feels something so peaceful settle over her. The butterflies in her stomach flutter around from your touch, but she's so happy. She thinks she might cry if she thinks about it too much because this was all she ever wanted.

Wanda focuses on the feel of your hands on her skin instead and how you're making her feel hot. She focuses on the feel of your lips against her skin, the sound of her breaths, and your soft moans.

There's no way the two of you aren't sexually compatible, but Wanda's eager to find out exactly how compatible they are...over and over.

As your lips trail lower and more clothes are removed, Wanda idly thinks that maybe Steve doesn't need to eat rocks and jump into the ocean.

EPILOGUE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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lowaltitude · 2 months ago

Text

Dial Tone 3 | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. 4.2k words

back by popular demand <3 ty for all the nice messages

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Wednesday, May 29, 2024 Today, 9:57 PM MANHATTAN: I don’t know how else to convince you. What do you want me to say?

I read the message over and over as I made my way back to the hotel, my friends chatting around me. Their voices blurred into background noise as my thoughts tangled into a confused mess. It didn’t add up—none of it did. The tension between my heart and my head was unbearable.

By the time we got to the hotel, my friend tried to rope me into ordering late-night room service, but I waved her off, mumbling something about needing a shower. She gave me a curious glance but didn’t push.

The shower didn’t help. If anything, it made my thoughts louder, like the steam had cleared space for more doubts to crowd in. Wrapping a towel around myself, I padded over to the bed, plopped down, and grabbed my phone. I stared at Manhattan’s messages for what felt like the fiftieth time, gnawing on my thumbnail until it ached.

I didn’t want to believe him. But at the same time, there was something about his words—his tone, even through text—that kept me hesitating. He didn’t sound like a liar. He sounded genuinely… confused. Frustrated. Desperate, even.

Before I could overthink it any further, I tapped his contact and hit the FaceTime button. My heart pounded as it rang, each chime echoing louder in my ears. What was I even doing?

The screen shifted, and suddenly, he was there. A real, live version of him, staring back at me. His familiar sharp jawline, messy dark hair, and warm brown eyes that I’d seen countless times in photos. He looked tired, his face serious but soft with concern.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice lower than I expected, tinged with a nervous edge.

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

“Say something,” he urged, his brow furrowing. “Please.”

“You’re…” I finally whispered, shaking my head. “You really look like him.”

“Because I am him,” he said, leaning closer to the camera. “I’m Matt. Everything I’ve told you, every message, it was me. I wasn’t pretending. I wasn’t using anyone else’s photos.”

I blinked, my mind racing. “But why—why wouldn’t you just say that? Why hide it?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “When we first started talking, it wasn’t about… me being Matt Rempe. It was just about us. I liked that you didn’t know who I was. It made everything feel… normal. Real. And then it got harder to tell you as we got closer.”

I sat there, stunned, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “You should have told me,” I said, my voice trembling. “Do you know how confused I’ve been? How much this feels like some giant joke?”

“I know,” he said, his expression pained. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I just… didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“What we had?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly. “Do you even know how ridiculous this all sounds? You’re saying I’ve been texting you—a professional hockey player—for months and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

“I was scared, okay?” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to mess things up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. My mind was a storm of disbelief, anger, and a flicker—just a flicker—of something else. Hope? No, that couldn’t be it.

“I don’t know what to believe,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his gaze steady, almost pleading. “Ask me anything. Anything you want to know. I’ll tell you the truth. No more hiding. I promise.”

I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Why should I trust you now?”

“Because,” he said softly, his eyes locking with mine through the screen, “I’ve never lied about how I feel about you.”

I stared at him through the screen, my emotions swirling. His words hung in the air, heavy but sincere. He wasn’t asking for my trust—he was begging for it, his honesty shining through despite everything.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I don’t know how to just… move past it all. It feels so messy now.”

Matt nodded slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. “I get it,” he said softly. “I screwed up by not being honest from the start. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you everything. I don’t want to lose what we have. Even if that means we have to take a step back or… or whatever you need.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. It wasn’t like I didn’t care about him—clearly, I did. That was part of why this felt so complicated. “I just… need to figure out how to trust you again,” I said quietly. “I want to, but it’s going to take time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said immediately, his tone earnest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A small, tentative smile tugged at my lips. It wasn’t everything, but it was something—a start.

He seemed to relax slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For giving me a chance.”

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” I said, a little more firmly this time. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

Matt smiled softly, the kind of smile that made it hard not to feel the warmth behind it. Then, as if realizing something mid-thought, he said, “You look really pretty, by the way.”

My cheeks flushed instantly. “What?” I stammered, caught completely off guard.

His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “I—uh—sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he said quickly, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks too. “It just slipped out.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us easing just a little. “You really need to work on your timing,” I teased, shaking my head.

“Yeah,” he said with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not my best move.”

We sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything still present but less overwhelming. Somehow, that small, awkward compliment had cracked through the heaviness, making things feel just a bit more normal.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said finally, my voice soft but steady.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, his tone hopeful. “And… thanks. For real.”

I ended the call, setting my phone down on the bed beside me. My mind was still a mess, but for the first time in hours, I didn’t feel completely lost. We weren’t fixed, not by a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, we were on the path to figuring it out.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up feeling like my mind had run a marathon overnight. The emotional weight of everything still lingered, but there was a small sense of clarity cutting through the fog. Matt and I had talked, and while it hadn’t solved everything, it had opened the door for us to start moving forward—if I wanted to.

I stared at my phone, the FaceTime app still in my recent calls list. His face was fresh in my mind, the sincerity in his eyes as he told me he hadn’t lied. He’d seemed so genuine, so earnest, that it was hard to hold onto the anger I’d felt the night before. But trust wasn’t built in a single conversation, and I knew that forgiving him wasn’t the same as forgetting what had happened.

I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for the day, meeting my classmates for breakfast in the hotel’s bustling dining area. The chatter of everyone’s plans for the expo helped distract me for a while. My friend nudged me as we filled our plates.

“You seem more like yourself today,” she said, offering me a warm smile.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I think I just needed to sleep on some things.”

She gave me a curious look, clearly wanting to ask more, but she let it go. Instead, she launched into a story about a panel she wanted to attend later, and I let myself get swept up in her excitement, grateful for the reprieve.

Later that afternoon, as I wandered through the bustling expo floor with my classmates, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Matt.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 1:22 PM MATT: Hope you’re having a good day. No pressure to reply, just wanted to check in.

I stared at the message for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt. He was trying so hard to make things right, to give me space while still showing he cared. After a moment’s hesitation, I typed a quick reply.

ME: Thanks. It’s been a good day so far.

His response came almost instantly.

MATT: Good. You deserve that.

A small smile tugged at my lips, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe we could figure this out.

Here’s the continuation of the story from the morning setup:

The rest of the expo flew by in a blur of panels, exhibits, and conversations, but no matter how much I tried to immerse myself in the experience, my thoughts kept drifting back to Matt. The weight of everything between us lingered, a mix of uncertainty and cautious optimism.

By the time evening rolled around, our group gathered in the hotel lobby, buzzing with excitement about our plans to head out one last time before our flight the next morning. My friend looped her arm through mine as we headed toward the subway.

“This trip has been so much fun,” she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“Me neither,” I said, offering her a small smile.

She tilted her head, studying me. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been a little… I don’t know, quieter than usual.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to get into it. “Just tired, I guess.”

She didn’t push, but I could feel her concern as we navigated the crowded subway.

When we returned to the hotel later that evening, everyone scattered to their rooms to pack and get ready for the morning. I unlocked my door, stepping inside and letting out a long breath. The past few days had been such a whirlwind that it felt strange to finally have a moment to myself.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, my phone in hand. My conversation with Matt from earlier lingered in my mind, his words replaying over and over.

MATT: Good. You deserve that.

There was something so simple yet so sincere about it that I couldn’t shake the feeling it gave me.

After a while, I decided to FaceTime him again. I needed to see his face, to talk to him without the filter of a screen full of text.

When the call connected, he answered almost immediately, his expression a mix of surprise and relief.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but cautious.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we hadn’t said yet. Finally, I broke it.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… everything,” I admitted.

“And?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“And I think I want to move past it,” I said. “I’m still not sure how to fully wrap my head around everything, but I know I trust you enough to try.”

His shoulders relaxed, and a soft smile crossed his face. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you.”

I nodded, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

We talked for a little while longer, and slowly, the tension between us began to fade. At one point, he paused mid-sentence, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head.

“You look really pretty,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

My cheeks flushed, and I ducked my head, a small laugh escaping me. “Matt…”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. It just kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay,” I said, smiling despite myself.

The silence stretched for a moment before I stood up, moving to the dresser to start packing my suitcase. I couldn’t afford to leave it until morning—not with the early flight looming.

“Hold on, I need to get some packing done,” I said, propping my phone on the nightstand so I could still see him.

“Packing?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

“For the flight tomorrow,” I said, folding a shirt and placing it neatly in my bag. “This trip really flew by.”

“Oh,” he said softly, the weight in his tone catching my attention.

I glanced at the screen, catching the flicker of emotion in his eyes before he quickly looked away. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt.

“So… tell me about the NHL,” I said, trying to shift the mood. “What’s it like playing at that level? I mean, you’re on one of the biggest stages out there, right?”

He hesitated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s… surreal, I guess. Every game feels like a dream, but there’s a lot of pressure too. People are always watching, analyzing, expecting you to be at your best.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I said, shaking my head as I zipped up one compartment of my suitcase. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a laugh. “But you learn how to focus on the game and tune everything else out. It’s the only way to stay sane.”

I nodded, reaching for another stack of clothes. “It must be tough, though. All that travel, the media, the fans…”

“It can be,” he said, his tone softening. “But it’s worth it. You know, for moments like that win last night—or even the little ones, like seeing a kid in the stands wearing your jersey.”

I smiled at that, imagining what it must be like to have such an impact on people.

As I worked through my packing, I noticed he was unusually quiet. When I glanced back at the screen, his expression was unreadable, his gaze distant.

“Matt?” I prompted gently.

He blinked, snapping back to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how this was my chance to really meet you,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “And I blew it. You were here, in New York, and I didn’t even know until it was too late.”

I paused, the weight of his words settling over me. “It’s not like I made it easy,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I did kind of spring the whole surprise thing on you.”

“Still,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been talking to you for months, and then you were here, and I—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just wish I’d done things differently.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The sincerity in his voice made my heart ache, but there was no undoing what had already happened.

“You’ll just have to make up for it next time,” I said softly, offering him a small smile.

His eyes met mine through the screen, and for a moment, the sadness faded, replaced by something warmer, something hopeful.

“Next time,” he echoed, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure of it.”

As I finished packing and we said our goodnights, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words lingering in the air. Maybe this trip hadn’t gone as planned, but there was still a chance—however small—to turn it into something meaningful.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up to the soft buzz of my phone alarm. My suitcase sat by the door, neatly packed and ready to go, but my heart felt heavy as I got dressed for the flight home. The trip had been a whirlwind, full of unexpected highs and lows, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about leaving it all behind.

At breakfast, my friend chatted animatedly about the highlights of the trip, her enthusiasm a welcome distraction. I nodded along, adding a comment here and there, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Matt—and the bittersweet regret that we hadn’t met in person.

As the bus pulled up to take us to the airport, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. A part of me thought about ignoring it, not ready to face whatever emotions his message might stir, but curiosity won out.

Thursday, May 30, 2024 Today, 8:30AM MATT: Hope your flight goes smoothly. Let me know when you get home safe, okay?

His words were simple, but they carried an unmistakable warmth that made my chest tighten.

ME: Thanks. I will.

I hit send and stared at the screen, debating whether to say more. Before I could decide, the bus lurched forward, and I slipped my phone back into my bag.

At the airport, the usual chaos of check-ins and security lines kept me distracted. My classmates joked about the trip, already planning to compare notes and photos when we got home.

It wasn’t until we were boarding the plane that I let myself pause. As I settled into my seat, I opened my messages again, scrolling through the thread with Matt. The FaceTime from last night lingered in my mind—the honesty in his voice, the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose me.

Taking a deep breath, I typed a quick message.

ME: I’m sorry we couldn’t meet this time.

I hesitated for a moment, then added:

ME: But I’m glad we talked.

I hit send and slipped my phone into airplane mode, unsure if I was ready to see his reply yet.

The flight home felt longer than usual, each mile bringing me closer to reality and further from the whirlwind that had been New York. By the time we landed, I felt a strange mix of relief and longing.

As soon as I turned my phone back on, his reply popped up:

MATT: Me too. This wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, but I’m glad you gave me a chance to explain.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe things hadn’t gone perfectly, but they weren’t broken beyond repair. And maybe, just maybe, the next time I found myself in New York—or wherever life might take us—we’d finally get the chance to meet face to face.

As the bus rumbled along toward the airport, I let out a sigh, leaning my head against the window. The cityscape zipped by outside, its bustling energy already feeling like a distant memory. I turned slightly, catching snippets of a hushed conversation coming from the row ahead.

“Seriously, he was so hot!” one of my classmates whispered excitedly.

Her seatmate, a guy who sounded more bored than anything, let out a massive yawn. “DM him on Instagram or something, I dunno.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at his nonchalant response, but my curiosity was piqued. Peering discreetly through the small gap between the seats, I caught sight of her phone. She was scrolling through photos from the hockey game, her finger pausing as she zoomed in on a close-up shot of Matt mid-game, his determined expression and jersey number 73 clearly visible.

“I don’t even know his name, idiot,” she muttered, sounding genuinely frustrated.

A chuckle slipped out before I could stop myself. Both of them turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

I met their gazes with a small smile and said “Matthew Rempe.”

The girl blinked in shock, her phone still clutched in her hand. “Wait, you know his name?”

“Yep,” I replied, leaning back in my seat and pretending to focus on the passing buildings again, my grin widening as I felt their stunned stares linger on me for a moment longer.

The city faded further behind us, but a small part of me couldn’t help feeling like it wasn’t quite done with me yet.

The bus continued its steady rumble toward the airport, the familiar hum of the wheels against the pavement a comforting background noise to the awkward silence that had settled around me. I could feel the weight of my classmates’ stares, their curiosity palpable. The girl who had been talking about Matt was still looking at me, trying to process what I’d just said.

“You know him?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more in awe than disbelief.

“Yeah,” I said casually, trying to hide the rush of emotions that were swirling inside me. “He's, uh, kind of a big deal in hockey. I mean, not just in New York, either.”

She looked down at her phone again, scanning the pictures. Her seatmate, who had barely seemed interested before, now leaned forward.

“Wait a minute,” he said, suddenly more engaged. “You’re saying you know the guy in the picture, like for real?”

I raise an eyebrow “What? No, I’m friends with a bunch of the hockey guys. I just know when players are famous. This guy’s like a huge fighter, gets kicked out of games all the time. I just happen to recognise him from the news.”

“What news?” the girl asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“He’s just one of those guys that pops up in highlights a lot, you know? The big hits, the fights—stuff like that gets shared everywhere.” I shrugged, keeping my tone casual.

“Wait,” the guy next to her said, leaning in slightly. “You follow hockey? Like, actually follow it?”

I hesitated, suddenly aware that I’d said too much. “Not really,” I lied, hoping to downplay it. “I’ve just… been around it enough to pick up some things.”

“Been around it how?” the girl asked, still skeptical but clearly intrigued.

“Uh, my cousin’s super into it,” I said quickly, grasping for an explanation that wouldn’t sound suspicious. “He drags me to games and talks about it nonstop, so I end up knowing more than I care to admit.”

The girl nodded slowly, seeming to buy the story. “Huh. That makes sense, I guess. Still, it’s kind of impressive that you recognized him so fast.”

“Yeah,” the guy added, giving me a curious look. “Most people wouldn’t even know who he is, let alone the fact that he’s a fighter.”

I shrugged again, trying to brush it off. “Like I said, highlights. Plus, the hockey world isn’t that big. You hear names and start connecting the dots.”

The two of them exchanged a glance but didn’t push the conversation any further. I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease as their curiosity shifted elsewhere.

Filled with the usual chatter about flights, plans for when we got home, and last-minute souvenirs people wished they’d bought. I stayed mostly quiet, I pulled out my phone, unable to resist texting Matt about the interaction.

ME: So, a girl on this bus thinks you're hot.

His reply came almost immediately.

MATT: Is it you? 😉

I rolled my eyes, biting back a laugh as I typed a response.

ME: No, not me.

A pause, then his next text popped up.

MATT: Oh 😑

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing, earning a few curious looks from my classmates. Covering my mouth, I quickly typed another message.

ME: Don’t look so disappointed. You’ve got plenty of admirers, apparently. MATT: Yeah, but only one that matters.

I stared at the screen, my smile softening. Despite everything, Matt had a way of making me feel like the center of his world, even from miles away.

ME: Smooth, Rempe. MATT: Just honest.

I shook my head, the thought of him sitting wherever he was, probably grinning at his phone too, was enough to make my heart feel lighter.

MATT: I don’t know what’s weirder, you not calling me Manhattan… or the fact that I’m still calling you San Diego.

I snorted, earning a glance from my friend across the aisle, which I quickly waved off.

ME: Well, you are Matt now. Guess I need to adjust. MATT: Adjust? You’re acting like this is a big change. ME: It kind of is! You went from a mystery nickname to being an actual recognisable person. That’s a lot. MATT: Fair. But for the record, you’ll always be San Diego to me. It suits you.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the familiar warmth creep into my chest that his texts always seemed to bring.

ME: What does that even mean? MATT: It means you’re sunny, laid-back, and somehow manage to leave me speechless half the time.

My cheeks burned, and I shook my head at his unabashed flirting.

ME: You’re impossible. MATT: And yet, you’re still texting me. ME: …Point taken. ME: I guess Manhattan suits you too then. Big, flashy, kind of impossible to ignore. MATT: So... do I get to know your real identity yet, Batman?

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 2 years ago

Note

could you do a one shot of alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

A/N: I hope you like it! Thank you so very much!!

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

summary: alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: Smut, Angst, jealousy

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Nuncle" Daemon turned around to face you, his eyes widened at the sight of you. You wore a black dress a little too revealing for a funeral but the innocent glint in your eyes showed that you did not know better. Your corset pushed your cleavage up for him to see and admire while your arms were showing.

"Niece" He nodded his head looking like he was in a daze for a second. His eyes snapped up to look at you. You forced a small tear to roll down your cheek, faking your sadness.

"I wished to give you my condolences, I may have never met Lady Laena but from what i heard she was an amazing lady, I am sure your daughters will take after her" You spoke lightly. Your hand raised slowly to rest on his upper arm to offer him some comfort. Daemon's eyes followed your movement making you feel a little scared that you were going too fast and moved to pull away but he grabbed your hand before you could.

"Thank you, niece, she was an amazing mother indeed" Daemon raised your hand placing a kiss to the back of your fingers.

"If you need anything uncle, do send for me, we are family after all" You batted your eyelashes at him. Daemon did not let go of your hand and instead kept it warmed in his own.

"I wish to walk away from this crowd, I have not had time to mourn properly, may I ask you to join me?" He asked tilting his head to the side. You had to suppress a smirk to give him the impression that he was the one to manipulate you.

"Of course" You pulled your hand from his hand to the crook of his arm instead. Daemon led you away from the noise of the people talking. You looked back as the noise grew further away to find your older sister's eyes wandering in search of Daemon not knowing that you had gotten to him first.

"I heard that you were a rogue, father mention several times that you have the characteristic of your late mother princess Alyssa, what was she like?" You asked boldly. The noise now was merely background noise but still it grew quieter the more he led you away.

"I am afraid I do not remember, I was very young when she passed" Daemon answered, turning to look at you. You faked a horrified gasp and your other hand snapped up to cover your mouth in shock.

"I apologise uncle, I did not mean to offend" You squeaked. Daemon swallowed thickly, bingo! From what you heard he liked innocent maidens, he liked to corrupt them, mould them however he liked.

"Nothing to apologise for, sweet girl" Daemon's free hand raised to touch the apple of your cheek. You averted your eyes and opted to stare at the sand below your feet.

"I should have known better than to mention another important woman in your life when you are still mourning your lady wife's passing, please forgive me" You whispered. He put pressure below your chin to get you to look at him. His eyebrows shot up in shock at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Sweet niece" He pulled you closer in for a hug. Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly smirking into his shirt. You pulled away to look him in the eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him by surging up smashing your lips together. He froze for a second before kissing you back. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your body, every fibber in your body begging to feel more of him.

He sighed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist pulling your closer to him. Your fingers wandered up his neck and into his hair messing the half pulled up hair do. His fingers fiddled with your laces not yet pulling them apart.

"Oh sweet girl" He pulled back to look at your face. You whined at the loss much to his amusement. Daemon can be cruel but not now. He leaned down to kiss you again, much fiercer this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth forcefully to play with yours.

Your fingers trailed down his neck to his tunic beginning to unbutton it and he let you. This time around he pulled the strings loosening your gown around your body.

"Nuncle" You moaned against his lips when you felt the tip of his fingers make contact with the skin of your shoulder. He slipped the dress off slowly until it was hanging off your elbows.

"How pretty" He complimented, eyes glued to your breasts barely covered by the corset. He pushed your dress the rest of the way down to the ground.

"Someone will see" You whispered. He ignored you and took off his cape to lay it on the floor before he guided you down to lay on the ground. He took off his tunic before joining you down on the sand.

"No they won't if you keep quiet, sweet girl" He responded. You gulped but did not push him away. He leaned his head down to place small kisses to your jawline. He shudder ran through your body at his touch.

One of his hands was planted on the ground to keep his weight off of you while the other one trailed down to grab at your thigh pulling it up and closer to him. You moaned as he squeezed the flesh along with his lips sucking at your neck. Your heart was hammering against your chest and your were sure he could feel it.

"Uncle" You mewled, feeling his ever growing length rub against your thigh. You reached down to his breeches to palm him over the fabric.

"Eager are we?" He teased looking up at you. You moaned when he turned back to your corset to untie the laces that were on the front for once.

"Shit" he groaned as your breasts spilled out. He moved to his knees between your legs so he can palm them with both of his hands.

"Such beautiful tits" He was in a daze like state. He dived back down mouth watering for your breasts. He kissed and sucked as if they were his last meal. Your cunt grew wetter with his each tug of his.

"Please, uncle" You begged attempting to rub your cunt against his clothed cock. Daemon growled against your flesh, one of his hands snapped down to your hip to keep you in place.

"Please fuck me, uncle" You begged, leaning down to whisper the words in his ear. Daemon let go of your tit with a pop and droll running down his chin.

"Whatever my sweet niece wants" He hands fumbled to push his breeches down just enough for his cock to spring out, proud and hard, long in length with just enough girth to make you shudder with fear if it will fit.

"Is it going to hurt?" You asked, eyes wide as you watched him move closer to you.

"Scared are you? You were begging for it only a second ago" Daemon teased. Your breath got caught in your throat when he let the tip touch your swollen clit.

"Uncle" You shivered, hands grabbing at his biceps. He furrowed at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Shh sweet girl, it will hurt for a pinch then it will feel good, I promise" He leaned down to place a comforting kiss to your forehead. You gulped but nodded your head.

"Shhh" He shushed as he began to push in, a reminder to stay quit. One of your hands snapped up to your mouth to cover it. He was huge, he was stretching you in ways your fingers never did. You were heaving by the time half of him was inside.

"Uncle" You cried, hands snapping to his chest to either push him or stop him. He paused his movement and looked up at your face. Tears were leaking from your eyes, your lower lip in between your teeth to stop your cries, you looked amazing.

"Just a little more, sweet girl" He reassured. He leaned down to rest his forehead on yours as he pushed the rest of him in. You mewled holding on to his shoulders for some support.

"Such a good girl for me" He praised, kissing your nose. You raised your chin enough to claim his lips with yours. Daemon was not a patient man and began to move giving you barely any time to adjust to his length.

His mouth swallowed your moans and cries. The uncomfortable feeling in your gut slowly morphed into pressure, and it was so very pleasurable.

"That's it" Daemon praised when you pulled your mouth away from his moaning in pleasure. Your pulled him closer needing to feel his flesh on yours. He latched onto your skin without a second thought, not caring if he left marks behind.

You looked up at the sky letting the pleasure consume you, Daemon was experienced, he knew what he was doing. A smirk grew on your face knowing you had won, you had trapped your uncle or at least your web had began to wrap around him.

"Good girl, taking me so well" He moaned in your ear. You cried feeling your release nearing. He kissed your lips to quieten you as your pleasure rolled into you. Soon he was following behind you but he was not even close to being down with you, no he will have you until the sun began rising high in the sky again.

"Rhaella, will you help your mother" Daemon called earning the attention of the six namedays old girl. She turned to find you struggling to hold the hand of your other child, Daelyx, your three namedays old son.

"Yes papa" She skipped over to you and took her brother's hand in her own. You sighed in relief rising to stand up straight again with a hand over your growing belly.

"Thank you darling" You pushed some of her hair back. She grinned up at you happy to help.

"Lets go darling, Viserys is waiting for us" Daemon reminded. You smiled at him. He was standing to the side with your twins only one nameday old yet you were seven moons pregnant with your fifth child. Your twin daughters giggled at each other babbling in a language only they knew, Daenys and Aera.

"Yes, my love" You moved to walk along side him or more like wobble. Rhaella trailed behind you with Daelyx's hand in her own. She was whispering something to her brother you could not hear but that kept the little boy distracted as he looked around at the weird place he found himself in.

"Do you reckon he will be angry because we haven't visited in a while?" You asked in a whisper. The lords and ladies curtsied when seeing before noticing the clutch of children with you and Daemon all white haired and purple eyes. Your wedding was a quick and small affair only a moon after the beech incident when you informed your mother that you had not gotten your moon's blood. She was furious but then seeing who the father was she calmed down and allowed the wedding instead of terminating the pregnancy and sending you to old town to become a septa like she original planned.

"He will understand that we've got our hands full" Daemon grinned at you, he flexed his muscles to bounce the two girls in his arms making them squeal with delight. You smiled at the sound of their giggles.

"I hope so" Your conversation ended when you reached your father's room. The guards opened the door and to your shock Rhaenyra was there along with your mother and grandsire.

"Granny!" Rhaella let go of Daelyx to run to your mother, he huffed annoyed and attempted to race her over to your mother. Your mother grinned and crouched down to meet the two of them.

"Welcome prince Daemon, princess" Your grandsire nodded at Daemon who awkwardly nodded back. You grinned at your grandsire who smirked at you proud of your achievement. It did not go unnoticed that Daemon's clothes were of black and green and no longer of black and red.

"Uncle" Rhaenyra earned your attention when she addressed your husband. He handed you Daenys when she grew restless in his arms. She grew still knowing better than to kick your bulging stomach having been scolded for it only a fortnight prier.

"Sister, always a delight to see you" You stepped closer to her with fake joy on your face. She faked a smile letting you hug her buying your fake innocence as if you could not see her longing.

"Daenys look, it is your grandsire" You moved away from Rhaenyra to sit at your father's bedside. He huffed tiredly but half smiled at the sight of your daughter.

"Daenys? like the dreamer?" He heaved. Feeling a presence behind your turned to find Daemon with Aera in his arms and Rhaella and Daelyx by his side. In that moment you were more than sure you had won, he had ignored Rhaenyra in favour of you and your children. He placed his free hand on your shoulder to show his support. Daemon was your slave now.

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hard-core-super-star · 1 year ago

Text

searching for redemption [K.Bishop]

pairing: switch!kate bishop x bottom!reader x top!kate bishop

summary: a multiversal anomaly grants you and your girlfriend the opportunity to explore some of your more...intense desires.

warnings: pure smut -> minors, don't you dare interact with this [selfcest + threesome; kinda dubcon at the beginning 'cause R doesn't know it's another version of kate; slight degradation/humiliation [other kate is mean but in a good way]; strap-on sex [kate receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; both kates are technically service tops but shhh; there's an element of tease and denial but it's sort of a background thing]

wordcount: 3.4k

a/n: this is quite literally the filthiest thing i've ever written so proceed with caution. this is a request/lowkey commission from a very lovely anonymous person so shoutout to them for all their ideas. i'm definitely not going to drop a link to my buy me a coffee for anyone else who might be interested. anyways, thank you for your support, i'll go back to writing pure fluff soon...maybe, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You should've known something was different about your girlfriend the second she stepped foot in your shared apartment.

She had left early in the morning, mumbling something about Yelena and how the blonde was insistent on forcing her to have an actual training routine. Your complaints about it had been swallowed up by your exhaustion so the brunette was forced to leave since she couldn't come up with any excuses not to.

Needless to say, your day had been boring so, the second you heard the front door open, your mind was filled with the excitement of your girlfriend being back home. Excitement that didn't let you focus on the way Kate slammed the door shut behind her or the mumbled string of curses that followed.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The sound of her voice makes you smile and you turn to look at her over your shoulder. “Thought I would surprise my girlfriend with her favorite food. I would’ve gotten pizza but you always end up giving all your slices to Lucky.”

You catch the small roll of her eyes before you turn your attention back to the stove, turning off the flame before Kate distracts you and you burn the boxed macaroni…again.

She doesn’t reply immediately but you write it off as her being tired and nothing else. Until she speaks up again in a tone you’re not used to hearing from her.

“Fuck. You're perfect.”

“Is that you or your stomach talking?”

“Neither.”

You're about to ask her what she means when she crosses the space between you. Her hands grip your waist, pulling you backward until you collide with her body. The food you had been preparing gets forgotten the second you feel a certain hardness rubbing against your ass.

“You missed me that much?” You tease.

You’re expecting one of her usual responses. Maybe a whine or a witty comment or a barrage of kisses across your shoulders.

You don’t get any of that, though.

Instead, you get her calloused hands groping at your chest through the fabric of the worn-out band tee you stole from her closet. “Don’t be a brat, baby.”

The words are something you've only ever heard as a joke, a playful jab that never lands since you both know Kate’s the real brat. But today, they slip out of her mouth without a second thought as if she’s said them, and meant them, a thousand times before.

“Says the one ignoring my fantastic cooking skills.” You push back against her hips, expertly grinding against the strap-on hidden inside her pants and earning yourself a groan from her parted lips.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be complaining,” she mumbles.

Her hands leave your waist and all at once, she’s turning you around and pushing you up against the kitchen counter. You attempt to tease her again but she’s far quicker than you are.

She instantly leans in to capture your lips in a borderline desperate kiss as her hands explore your waist. You're no stranger to Kate's arousal-filled desperation, and you can't judge her since you're the same way sometimes, but there's something different about it.

Some underlying darkness that you can't quite place.

“Kate-” You attempt to pull away but she doesn't let you get far.

She ignores your half-formed moan, choosing instead to deepen the kiss while she hooks one of your legs over her hip to erase the already non-existent space left between your bodies. Her actions are unexpected but they only serve to fuel the gathering arousal in your underwear.

You’re too caught up in the feelings she creates inside you to hear the sound of the door opening again…until you hear a very familiar voice.

“What the fuck?”

You jump away from the archer only to find yourself staring at Kate.

Well, two Kates.

You briefly wonder if you’re dreaming but the remnants of Kate’s hands on your body feel far too real for any of this to be a dream. Which means you’re staring at not one but two versions of your girlfriend.

Versions that seem to be engaged in a very serious staring contest.

“Is this another one of Wanda’s little tricks?” The difference in her tone of voice is suddenly obvious. “‘Cause it wasn’t funny the first time.”

“What? No. I’m me…and you’re me…and you’re hot?” The way the brunette stumbles over her words confirms your suspicions.

You’ve been making out with another version of your girlfriend.

And you can’t find it in yourself to be too upset about it.

Clearly, this other version Kate doesn’t mind either. She steps away from you, her arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised. “Why do you sound so surprised? Have you never looked at yourself in the mirror?”

Kate’s eyes widen and you can make out the soft pink hue that spreads across her face. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, almost as if she’s ready to defend you from this other version of herself. “y/n?”

You know what she’s actually asking of you but you can’t stop yourself from adding fuel to the fire. “Well, you are hot.”

Your girlfriend stares at you like a fish out of water while her other self bursts out laughing. It should be weird and yet you find yourself smiling as if the fabric of the universe didn’t somehow rip to create this moment.

“See? This is why I love her.”

Kate’s flustered and slightly nonchalant attitude disappears instantly. “Hey, she’s my girlfriend.”

Her possessive nature can’t be stopped, not even when her only competition is literally herself.

“Excuse me, your girlfriend was enjoying everything I was doing.”

Her comment leaves you breathless and, unfortunately for all of you, your girlfriend knows exactly what that reaction means. It means the other Kate isn’t wrong. And the knowledge instantly sparks a reaction in your archer.

“Shut the fuck up.” She shoves the other version of herself and while the act isn’t technically aggressive, it prompts the other archer to respond the same way.

Their shoves turn into a, somewhat pathetic, attempt at fighting with each other. They’re somehow the exact same person which means every punch is anticipated and blocked accordingly, leaving them both to stumble toward the nearest wall while they try to outwit each other with increasingly illogical insults.

The sight is more entertaining than strange and your next words fly out of you far too fast to be stopped. “You guys should just kiss and make up, it’ll be faster.”

The smirk you receive in response gives you a clear idea of which Kate is currently being held against the wall. “I told you she was into it.”

Your archer reluctantly lets go of the other one, turning around to look at you, a weird mix of surprise and longing in her eyes. “You think we should…what?”

“I’m just saying,” you reply with a shrug. “What’s the use of fighting with yourself anyway?”

Kate stares at you, mouth agape, while her variant shoots you a wink over your girlfriend’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be hot but you learned a long time ago not to question the things you find attractive about the archer.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“Thought about what?” Those eyes you love so much leave you as she waits for a response from her double.

“Kissing yourself.”

You have to fight against yourself not to laugh at the look that crosses your girlfriend’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Is she always this stubborn?” Kate rolls her eyes before pushing herself off the wall and approaching you again. The way she moves tells you there's a plan hiding inside her mind and you already know you’ll go along with whatever she wants.

“Don’t you already know the answer?” You reply, accepting the hand she holds out for you and jumping down from the counter. “You’re the same person.”

“Right again, darling.”

Your girlfriend’s intake of breath reaches your ears right as her variant pulls you in close. What you’re doing borders on insanity but you don’t care. Some experiences are worth losing your mind over.

She wordlessly checks in with you and the second you nod, her hands tangle in your hair and pull you into until there’s no space left between your lips. You know you should feel weird about what you're doing, maybe even a little guilty, but it’s impossible to deny the connection that runs between you, even if you’re different versions of the person the other one loves.

You almost expect your Kate to voice her displeasure and kick her variant out. But of course, that doesn’t happen. Because no one in this room can’t say they’re not more than a little curious to see where things go. To see how far they can go.

Kate pulls away from you, her lips pulled together somewhere between a giddy grin and a knowing smirk. It’s striking how different she seems to be despite being the archer you know and love. “Glad to see we’re on the same page, baby.”

“y/n?” The archer’s voice is barely audible over the pounding in your chest. “I…do you…is this what you want?”

You meet her eyes, both of you searching the other for any signs of discomfort. The only thing you find though are the very obvious signs of your girlfriend’s growing arousal. So, you nod. “Yeah. If you’re okay with it.”

“I…I mean, yeah. I think I am.”

“That was fast,” Kate’s variant teases. “Did watching me make out with your girlfriend turn you on that much?”

The answer is more than clear but the slight catch of her breath gives her away far too quickly. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

A few seconds of tense silence go by before you all collectively spring into action. It’s, admittedly, a mess of hands and lips but the three of you make it into the bedroom together. You lose track of who’s who until a pair of rough hands push you down onto the mattress.

Kate attempts to follow after you but her double stops her before she can get too far. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I, uh-” You watch as your girlfriend does her best to pull herself together. “Where do you think?”

“Nice try.” She pulls Kate against her body and you’re given a front row seat to the subtle expressions of pleasure your archer tries to hide. “You’re not going anywhere yet though. We have to give your girlfriend a good show.”

You have a pretty good idea of what she means and yet nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Your thighs instantly clench together while you watch the other Kate’s hands trail underneath your girlfriend’s shirt. The fabric in the way stops you from seeing much but your girlfriend’s body and the feeling of her skin in your hands is forever ingrained into your brain.

“What-” Her words get caught in her throat and all that comes out instead is a breathy moan.

“Do you ever stop talking?” The variant’s words slip out in between groans, her hips sliding back and forth against Kate’s ass. “Just let yourself feel good, I know what you want.”

You watch, entranced, as Kate’s lips trail a path down your archer’s neck, slowly coaxing her tense shoulders into relaxing as her head tilts back. “You…are way too sure of yourself.”

It’s impossible not to laugh at her words, mainly because you’ve said them at least a hundred times and she never believes you. Your amusement is shared by the other archer and she shoots you a small smile. “Maybe…but I’ll bet anything you’re already dripping for me.”

The words aren’t technically meant for you but your moan tangles with Kate’s. In all honesty, you’ve been dripping since your little makeout session in the kitchen and your clit throbs so hard, you’re sure a mere gust of wind would be enough to make you cum. It really would be so easy to slip your hand-

“No touching, sweetheart. Be a good girl and wait for us.”

The thought of having to wait more than a few seconds is unbearable but there’s no way you’ll disobey this dominant version of your girlfriend. You’ve always had your suspicions that Kate holds back her rougher side around you and this, strange and unexpected, meeting merely confirms your thoughts.

You’re tempted to beg just to see what reaction you’ll get out of both of them.

Instead, you groan and position your hands above your head, gripping the pillow hard enough to leave nail marks in the fabric.

Your own struggle leaves you unaware of the storm brewing inside your girlfriend. A storm full of unspoken desires and a need to get her hands on something.

The position she’s in makes it hard for her to even attempt to fight for control but she tries anyway. Hesitant hands reach out behind her to blindly run her fingers across whatever skin she can find.

“I told you it would feel good.” Her other self murmurs against the flushed skin of her neck. “I know everything you like. I know all the spots that drive you wild.”

“Please.”

Your girlfriend’s slightly whiny voice forces you to focus again. Unfortunately, the sight you focus on merely serves to drive you further toward the edge of desperation. “God, will you just hurry up and fuck each other already?”

Your words make both versions of the archer halt their movements.

Two pairs of wide eyes stare you down but while one looks flustered enough to turn into a puddle on the floor, the other one regards you as if you're her next meal. It's dizzying and pleasurable all at the same time and you know the squirming of your legs gives you away instantly.

“I see you still haven't tamed your brat.” Kate rolls her eyes but there's far too much excitement on her face for the action to be believable. “Too bad I can't deny her anything.”

Time somehow slows down and speeds up at the same time.

You're still left neglected on the bed but the two brunettes finally start removing the many obstacles in the way. Your girlfriend gets turned around easily and you're barely able to keep yourself together when she works up enough courage to kiss the other version of herself.

Surprisingly steady hands reach out to tear away at shirts and clumsily pull at pants.

It feels like both an eternity and a second until they're both standing naked in front of you and you're panting just from the sight of them. Your patience is finally rewarded when your girlfriend climbs on top of you, hushed murmurs of how perfect you are getting lost as her hands explore your desperate skin.

“Kate,” you moan, your hands reaching out for her.

“I know, baby, I'm getting there.” There's the slightest hint of a tease in her tone but it comes more serious than you've ever heard it from her. You don't know what being physical with a variant of herself has done to your girlfriend but you don't really care as long as she’ll finally give you what you want.

What you want comes in the form of four hands pushing and pulling at your clothes until you're left vulnerable under both of them.

The sight of your drenched folds makes them both groan but it's your archer who moves first. “Fuck, y/n, you look so good like this. All mine to play with.”

The more dominant of the two merely smirks, content to watch while Kate trails a path of kisses down your body.

“Please.” This time, you're the one who begs and your hands instinctively wrap around the archer’s as she holds your legs open.

She doesn't say anything in response, she merely leans in and lets her mouth explore your wetness. There's nothing new about her motions but there's a certain confidence behind them that you've never seen before.

Your girlfriend, usually slow and gentle, instantly attaches herself to your swollen clit, her tongue flicking relentlessly against your sensitive bud.

You're too lost in your own pleasure to notice the movements of her variant…until you literally feel Kate moan into your cunt.

It's hard for your eyes to focus but once they do, you're left bucking your hips up and clenching around nothing. You watch through wide eyes as Kate’s variant thrusts into her soaked pussy, strong hands gripping her hips while she fucks her at an equally relentless pace.

Holding your head up is a challenge but you manage, unwilling to look away from such a tantalizing sight.

You whine when Kate’s lips detach from your clit and it takes no time for her other self to grip onto her hair and push her face down into your cunt. “Fuck her like you mean it, Katie.”

Whatever response your girlfriend had fades away as you messily grind against her face. She wastes no time in giving you what you need, her grip tightening in an attempt to keep you still.

There's no way for any of you to stop yourself from squirming and grinding into each other in some way and the room quickly falls into a continued chorus of grunts and moans.

You can hear the sound of the other archer’s voice but you're too far gone to make out the words she says.

Kate isn't though and the mix between being praised and degraded makes her clench around the strap buried deep inside of herself. Which only prompts more humiliatingly pleasurable words from lips that are basically identical to her own.

“Fuck, this is what you needed, isn't it? To be fucked so good you're forced to give in to all those nasty thoughts in your head? It feels so good, doesn't it, Kate?”

Hearing her own name in her own voice while she's being pounded into by herself feels far too good not to admit it. And the sounds of pleasure that escape her lips push you right over the edge almost instantly.

“Kate!” The archer’s name is the only warning you can give before you slam head-first into an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Fuck-” Both Kates respond at the same time as they're both pushed over the edge by different things.

Your girlfriend falls apart the second she feels your release soak her chin and the sight of both of you completely fucked out beneath her causes her variant to crash into her own orgasm.

You're sure you blackout for a few bliss-filled moments and when you open your eyes again, you're greeted with the sight of your girlfriend sprawled out on top of you, her heavy pants lightly tickling your skin.

You turn your head to the side and find her variant, panting just as heavily beside you, her hand clutching yours, the toy covered in your girlfriend’s release still attached to her hips.

You're in the middle of forming a plan to get your hands on her when she speaks up. “That was…wow.”

The sound of her voice makes your archer lift her face from your chest, a wide grin on her face. “You can say that again.”

You hate how well you know her because her features give away the words she’s not willing to say. “You want to leave, don't you?”

Your voice is a hoarse whisper after all the loud moaning you've done but they both hear you. There's a beat of silence, two sets of eyebrows furrowing, and then your answer.

“Yeah…I just…I don't know how I got here but I need to get back home. To you…my version of you.”

She looks genuinely apologetic and you would laugh if you weren't so tired. “I get it. As amazing as this was, this isn't your home.”

“But feel free to come back anytime,” Kate says, completing the other half of your thoughts. “You, uh, taught us a lot.”

“Mmm, did she? I think we already knew you were full of yourself.”

“Yeah, but she made it literal.”

Your girlfriend gets a chuckle out of both you and her variant but it's not enough of a reward for her.

It happens in the blink of an eye but suddenly Kate is sitting up and pulling her other self into a rough kiss, her hands tangled in her hair and her teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

The sight is somehow more attractive than the first time and all three of you are left breathless once they pull away. Giving Kate the satisfaction she was looking for.

Her variant leaves, once she manages to pull herself together again, and you and Kate, your Kate, stay in bed for a while. There's an unspoken understanding about what she's discovered about herself but she finally speaks up after a while.

“So…do you think we can try bondage next?”

“Yeah. I honestly always thought you were a little vanilla in bed.”

Your response earns you a glare…and an overachieving archer who goes above and beyond to show you how wrong you truly are.

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mire1li · 1 year ago

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Blade and Kafka got too silly!

Kidnappers shouldn't be... hot... right?... right? - Blade

Alternatively - Kafka's version!

You looked at the two people standing in front of you. Though they weren’t exactly paying attention, they were still there and whispering stuff amongst themselves.

You recognised both to be Kafka and Blade from the Xianzhou wanted posters. Jing Yuan had warned you of possible dangers of the job he offered you. Being his secretary certainly wasn’t easy, and the situation you’d gotten yourself into wasn’t helping.

Nevertheless, you never expected to actually get kidnapped. Especially by those two.

“Oh~ you’re awake” Kafka suddenly spoke up, bringing both hers, and Blade’s, attention to you.

You quietly sighed and looked at the wall to your right. A simple, light grey wall, with a few scratches and indents.

“Let me get straight to the point…” she continued, her tone switching to a more serious one as she walked closer to you.

“We brought you here for information. Of course… Silver Wolf told me of your position, it’s quite easy to infer you know as much as that General does.”

You could faintly hear Blade scoff in the background, as he stayed where he was. Though, ‘Silver Wolf’ was a name you didn’t recognise. In fact, you had no idea there was a third member of the stellaron hunters, which then brings about the question: are there more?

Deciding not to think about it too much, you looked back at Kafka and narrowed your eyes.

“I have the right to remain silent”

Kafka only chuckled as she heard your reply.

“Maybe on the Xianzhou” she rejoiced, before turning around and walking back towards Blade, though stopping half-way for some reason. She turned to look over her shoulder at you before chuckling again.

“So…-” she was about to say something, when a short girl with grey hair slammed the door open, holding a gaming console in her hands.

“Kafka, you’d said you’d buy me that game today. Let’s go, you owe it to me.” She exclaimed, crossing her arms.

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Kafka pondered

“Well… I suppose i can come along. Let’s go, silver wolf!” She starts walking towards the door, when, out of nowhere, Blade draws his sword on her, stopping her from leaving.

He glared at her, making his annoyance clear.

“And I’m supposed to stay here whilst you’re gone?”

“That’s right. I’m sure you can handle this, Bladie. It’s not a difficult task to get information out of someone~” the woman grinned and pushed his sword to the side, casually continuing her walk to the shorter girl.

“Well then, I’ll be leaving now. We’ll be gone a while, anyway… bye!~” she exclaimed, taking the girl, whom you now know to be Silver Wolf, with her and shutting the door.

“Kafka…” he hissed, keeping his glare fixated on the door for a while. It was safe to say you felt… endangered… he certainly wasn’t happy, and if you didn’t cooperate, he’d probably turn to violence. Though you couldn’t be completely sure. You’d only heard stories about him from Jing Yuan.

“So….” You dragged out the ‘o’ sound, causing him to turn his glare to you.

You chuckled nervously, as he sheathed his sword and went to sit down, seemingly gathering his thoughts before finally looking back at you.

“Tell me what you know and we won’t have a problem.” Blade dictated, as if he wasn’t giving you a choice. However, you’re good at finding loopholes and getting out of such situations… as new as being kidnapped may be…

You pretended to think for a while, glancing back at the slightly damaged wall to your right.

“Hm… no… I don’t think I will”

“I’m not giving you a say in the matter.” He immediately replied, in a harsher tone than before.

“So unfortunate…” you said, sighing very over-dramatically. You could tell you were getting on his nerves, although, you didn’t really care.

You assumed that, since they want information, he won’t harm you in any way.

Blade glared at you, sighing.

“Tell me what you know. If you just hand over the information then you won’t have to stay here any longer.”

“Tempting, tempting….” you repeated before adding “but what if I want to stay here?”

“And why would you want that?” He asked, confused.

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him a deadpan look.

“Have you even seen yourself?!” You exclaimed, using your hand to motion at him. Blade looked at you, his confusion not waning.

“What?” He asked after a moment, still not understanding what you meant.

You stood confidently, placing your hand on your chin, in a thinking pose whilst looking at him with a slight smirk.

“Well, you heard me! There’s a whole 5-star meal sitting in front of me!”

“What?” He asked again in slight disbelief, slightly sitting up in his seat.

“What? I’m not wrong!” You laughed, looking him up and down before adding to your sentence.

“My bad, 5 stars doesn’t cover it. However, 3 Michelin stars does!”

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, though he remained silent. Blade leaned forward and placed his hands on his face, thinking for a moment. After a few minutes, he just barely moved his hands, enough to see you. He had a mix of emotions visible on his face, the most prominent one being absolute, utter confusion.

“What? It’s not like I’m lying!”

He began muttering something to himself, however it was so muffled that you could only make out a few words.

“Don’t do…- irrational…- Kafka said…- important…”

“What’re you muttering about?” You asked, curiously, as you walked a bit closer to him.

“I’m trying my hardest not to get rid of you.” He replied, not even sparing you a glance. Though you most certainly could see just the faintest hint of a blush on his face.

“Oh come on! You wouldn’t do that~” you retaliated, taking on a more teasing tone now.

“Only because-“ he tried replying, however, you decided to interrupt him mid-sentence.

“Say, do you wanna, like… go out sometime?”

“Kafka was right…” he sighed “You’re absolutely insane.”

“No! I’m simply telling the truth.” You crossed your arms and leaned your weight on one foot. “That’s great. Yeah no, I’m not going out with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sighed, once again over-dramatically, and leaned against the nearest wall.

“Alright, fine… but I’m not giving up any information that could betray the Luofu.”

“I’m leaving the moment Kafka returns.” He sighed and sat up again, leaning against the back of the chair. He’s probably hoping for Kafka to return soon.

However, she didn’t return as soon as he hoped. Kafka returned a few hours later, absolutely exhausted so she only came to check on the both of you, whom were sitting in silence.

“Bladie, I’m going to bed. You stay here a while longer. I’m convinced Silvie won’t be of help to you. She had me buy her like 10 games!” She mumbled and waved, right as blade was about to leave when he saw her. Kafka shut the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone… again.

“So… about my earlier proposition-”

“No. Shut up.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #gn reader #reader insert #hsr kafka #hsr blade #blade x reader #silver wolf #x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #blade x gender neutral reader #blade x you #jing yuan

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chouxsardine · 1 year ago

Text

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

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

It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

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