#(THIS ISN'T EVEN THE STORY I ANTICIPATED TELLING) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ja3yun · 4 months ago

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better for you | s.jy

childhood best friend!jake x fem!reader (ft. bf!hoon)

warnings: smut (mdni), fingering, cheating (pls don't do that), tasting, possessive and jealous jake, competition and tension, petnames (baby), kinda dom!jake, anything else lmk!

w.c: 2.5k

REQ: Thinking about childhood friend jaeyun who has always had a crush on you but you had no idea and you show up to a family dinner with your new boyfriend and they keep competing silently yk? To prove who’s better and suddenly Jakes like well who can fuck her better 😋

a/n: i'm sorry to the anon who requested this! i have been so busy with other projects but i'm focusing on these drabbles today and well, your req became a semi-one shot so, i hope this is what you were after (sorry if it isn't)

"Hi everyone, meet Sunghoon," you introduce your boyfriend for the first time, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Your family have heard all the gushy stories and know how handsome he is, but seeing him in person is another matter entirely. As you look around the room, you can sense their anticipation and curiosity. Each member of your family has formed their own mental image of Sunghoon, based on your endless anecdotes and glowing descriptions.

The introduction feels like a moment of truth, but there’s a more pressing concern weighing on your mind. Among your family, it's your childhood best friend Jake who you're most worried about. He's always been incredibly protective of you, and he's never shy about expressing his opinions on your past relationships.

Jake has a knack for spotting red flags, or at least fabricating them, and hasn't really liked any of your previous boyfriends. His sceptical nature and protective instinct have always made you slightly apprehensive about introducing new partners to him.

It’s the main reason you have taken this long to allow Sunghoon to meet anyone. Jake’s opinion is so valuable to you but you really like your new boyfriend and hearing Jake’s disapproval will only deter your blossoming relationship. It’s been 4 months of sneaking around and telling your best friend lies just to be able to go on dates, and when he eventually found out you were bringing someone to the family dinner which was for your sibling’s graduation, safe to say he was shocked and unimpressed.

Sunghoon stands by your side, exuding confidence and warmth. You can see your family's eyes widen as they take in his appearance, and his charm is evident even in the briefest of introductions. Your parents smile politely, and your siblings exchange curious glances because they secretly wonder where you found an adonis like him, but it's Jake's reaction that you’re most anxious about. He's standing off to the side, arms crossed, his expression inscrutable.

You can feel your pulse quicken as Jake steps forward. Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, extends a hand. "Nice to meet you, Jake. Y/N has told me a lot about you."

"Funny, she didn't mention you until two days ago," Jake snides back, making your shoulders tense.

There’s a brief, tense silence, and then Jake takes your boyfriend’s hand in his. Relief washes over you as you realise that this first hurdle has been crossed, and you can only hope that Sunghoon's genuine nature will win Jake over in time.

That hope is short-lived, however, when it comes to actually having the dinner. The tension is palpable, a simmering undercurrent that you can’t ignore. The first sign of trouble appears almost immediately. As you sit down, Jake reaches to pour you a glass of water, but Sunghoon beats him to it. They exchange tight smiles, the gesture seemingly innocent but loaded with unspoken rivalry.

Throughout the meal, their petty squabbles continue. When you ask for the salt, both Jake and Sunghoon reach for it at the same time. Their hands collide, and they both laugh, but it's a strained, competitive sound. Jake ends up passing you the salt, his eyes lingering on Sunghoon, a silent challenge in his gaze. You can sense Sunghoon picking up on the vibe that Jake doesn't like him, his smile becoming more forced with each passing minute.

Every small task becomes a battleground. Jake offers to pass the bread, but Sunghoon intercepts it. When you compliment Sunghoon’s story about his recent trip, Jake interrupts with a sarcastic comment, turning the conversation back to a shared childhood memory between you and him. It's as if they're vying for your attention and approval, each small victory feeling like a step towards winning a larger, unspoken war.

With both of them at your side, you can feel the apprehension drifting between them, a taut string ready to snap. Your family tries to carry on as usual, but their glances betray their awareness of the undercurrent. You laugh a little too loudly at your sister’s joke, trying to break the awkwardness, but it only makes the silence that follows more pronounced.

As the dinner progresses, the tension between Jake and Sunghoon shows no signs of abating. Sunghoon tries to engage with your family, but Jake's constant interruptions and snide remarks are making it difficult for everyone to relax. You feel the pressure mounting and try to keep the conversation light, but it's clear that the two most important men in your life are locked in a silent battle.

Then it happens. Jake places his hand on your thigh under the table. The touch is innocent but it only amplifies your exasperation. You've had enough. Standing abruptly, you drag Jake up with you, ignoring the curious stares from your family. "Excuse us for a moment," you mutter, leading him towards your childhood bedroom.

Once inside, you close the door behind you, whirling to face him. "What the hell, Jake?" you hiss, your voice low but heated. "Can't you, for once, just let me have a boyfriend without making it a competition?"

“I don’t like him,” he shrugs, acting nonchalant as if he hasn’t just ruined not only your night but your sibling’s graduation dinner. He’s acting selfish and he knows it, yet, he can’t stop himself.

"What do you mean you don't like him?" you retort, frustration bubbling over. "He's done nothing but try to be polite and engage with everyone, including you!"

Jake remains silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. What you don’t know, despite the obviousness to everyone around you, is that Jake has been in love with you since your first year of high school. Every passing moment, he wishes you would see him as more than just your best friend and confess your feelings to him. He doesn’t want to be the one to do it in case he ruins everything you have; he would rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.

"He's not good enough for you," Jake finally says, his voice strained. "I don't trust him."

"You don't even know him!" you snap, exasperated. "You just don't want me to be happy with anyone else."

Jake crosses his arms, protecting his heart from his next question. "Why him?" he challenges, his tone equally fiery. "What makes him so special?"

"Because he's good to me, Jake!" you explode, pacing the room in frustration. "He's smart, he's kind, listens to me, and he fucks me good! What's not to want?"

Jake's eyes darken, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the air between you is thick with unspoken words. Then he steps closer, his voice a low growl. “And I’m not all those things? You think I couldn’t fuck you good?”

The bluntness of his words takes you aback. You stare at him, shock and confusion swirling in your mind. This was the last thing you expected to hear. Jake's confession hangs heavy in the air, the implications of it crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Jake moves closer, his presence overwhelming. “You think he’s the only one who can make you feel good? You have no idea what I could do to you.” His voice is low, filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. “All these years, I’ve watched you with these guys who don’t even know how to touch you. Do you have any idea how much it kills me to see you with them?”

Your heart races, the air between you charged with a tension that’s both terrifying and exhilarating. “Jake, this isn’t...”

He cuts you off, his voice rough. “You think he’s smart and kind? I’ve been there for you through everything. I know you better than anyone. And as for fucking you good?” He steps even closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I’d have you begging for more. I’d fuck you so good you’d forget anyone else ever touched you.”

The intensity in his eyes makes your knees weak. “Jake, you can’t just say these things...”

“Oh, I can and I will,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you against him. “I’ve been holding back for so long, but I can’t anymore. You need to know what you’ve been missing. I’d kiss every inch of you, make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core. You can feel his desire, his need for you, and it ignites something deep within you. “Jake...”

“You think he can make you happy? He doesn’t even know you like I do. He doesn’t know how to touch you, how to make you feel alive.” His hands roam over your body, teasing and possessive. “I’d take my time with you, show you what it means to really be wanted, to be loved. I’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

His words are a heady mix of promise and challenge, and you can’t help the desire that rises in response. “Jake, this is...”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You tremble, torn between the intense connection you share with Jake and the forming adoration you have for Sunghoon. But in this moment, with Jake’s words wrapping around you, it’s impossible to deny the truth. “Jake, I...”

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his hands sliding to your back, caressing your skin. “Admit that you’ve thought about it. That you’ve thought about us.”

Your breath hitches as his hands move with confidence and familiarity, igniting a fire within you. “Jake, please...”

You can’t say no because you have, of course, you have. He is right about everything. He is smart and kind, and he does treat you well, better than any man ever could. But there is a line to be crossed between friendship, especially one as precious as yours.

Maybe that line is a little blurred at this moment.

“I’ll make you mine…and you’ll never want anyone else again,” he growls, his lips finally claiming yours in a searing kiss.

Jake’s lips bruise against yours, the kiss intense and demanding. His hands roam over your body with a possessiveness that leaves you breathless. Without breaking the kiss, he manoeuvres you towards the bed, his grip firm yet gentle.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl. He pushes you back onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire. Your heart races as he hovers over you, his gaze burning into yours.

“Jake,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. “We shouldn’t…”

“We should,” he interrupts, his hands already hiking up your skirt. “I need to show you what you’ve been missing.”

His fingers glide up your thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He spreads your legs, his eyes locked onto yours as he settles between them. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve dreamed about this,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “How many times I’ve imagined touching you, tasting you, making you drip just at my voice."

His fingers find your panties, pulling them aside. You gasp as his fingers brush against your wetness, teasing you. “You’re already so wet,” he murmurs, his tone laced with satisfaction. “You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

He slips a finger inside you, and you arch your back, a moan escaping your lips. “Jake, oh my god…”

“That’s it,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Let me hear you. I want to hear every sound you make., just for me.”

He adds another finger, thrusting them in and out with a rhythm that drives you wild. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Your hands clutch the sheets, your body trembling with pleasure. “Jake, please…”

“Please what?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you.”

Jake's eyes darken with desire as he watches your every reaction, his fingers moving with expert precision inside you. He curls his fingers, hitting that sensitive spot that makes you see stars. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Let me hear you."

Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of his touch. His thumb continues its relentless circles on your clit, pressing down just enough to send jolts of pleasure through your body. "You're so tight," he groans, increasing the pace of his thrusts. "So perfect."

The heat between your legs intensifies, your wetness coating his fingers. "Jake, oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the pillows. "Don't stop."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I won't stop until you cum all over my fingers," he promises, his voice a seductive growl. He adds a third finger, stretching you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, your body teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

His movements become more urgent, his fingers plunging in and out of you with increasing speed. "Do you like that?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you like how I make you feel?"

"Yes," you gasp, your body arching off the bed. "I love it, Jake. Please, don't stop."

He shifts slightly, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, rubbing in tight, fast circles. "You're so close," he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Cum for me. Cum on my hand like a good girl."

Your entire body tenses, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "Jake," you cry out, your voice breaking. "I'm gonna..."

"Cum for me, baby," he demands, his fingers thrusting deep inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over. "Let go. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls tighten around his fingers, your body convulsing with pleasure. "Fuck!” Your hands gripping the sheets as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you.

He doesn't slow down, his fingers working you through your climax, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Just like that."

As the intensity of your orgasm begins to subside, he finally slows his movements, his fingers gently slipping out of you. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. Jake brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste even better than I imagined," he says, his voice low and husky.

You reach for him, pulling him down into a deep, languid kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "This is just the beginning," he whispers against your mouth, his hands caressing your sides. "I'm going to show you what it's like to be truly wanted. To be truly loved."

“Enjoying yourselves?”

A voice from the doorway causes your heart to stop and blood to run cold. Sitting up, you see Sunghoon standing there with a smirk on his face, his eyes flicking between you and Jake. “I thought I’d find you here.” His gaze settles on Jake’s possessive grip and then on your flushed, dishevelled form.

“Sunghoon-”

“You like competitions, right, Jake?” your boyfriend interrupts you, not giving you the chance to explain. “Why don’t we see who can really fuck her good?”

You physically gulp at the suggestion, knowing you're in for a long night, even with the entirety of your family downstairs...

______

perm taglist (idk if you guys want in on the drabbles but...): @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #aj writes #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #aj drabbles

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marvelandponder · 2 years ago

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one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.

we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty

for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough

what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale

look again

this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her

Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her

he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay

then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)

the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy

but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D

because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether

but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change

Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)

But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her

because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself

and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.

hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor

#the owl house #toh spoilers #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king clawthorne #the collector #emperor belos #camila noceda #i may update the post with images at some point but I figured that's more likely to unintentionally spoil others #watching and dreaming

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and-claudia · 1 month ago

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Yours (Paddy x reader) (Speak No Evil)

This is part one of a currently untitled mini series for Paddy from speak no evil (2024)

Warnings: Paddy (he is a warning himself), manipulation, age gap, drinking, infidelity, smut (with plot), unprotected sex, p in v, controlling relatives, fingering, multiple orgasms (i think that is it but if I missed one let me know)

This story will get dark. this is your warning, this part isn't really that dark and can be read as a stand-alone fic

summary: You are with your Aunt, Uncle and cousin on a small vacation in Italy where you befriend a couple and you take particular interest in Paddy

Word Count: 3700+

Taglist (Read the rules, follow them or I will remove your response)

When I met him in Italy, I was immediately drawn to him. He was like no man I had ever met before—exciting, inviting, and intoxicating. He was significantly older than me, but maybe that is what I needed. All the guys my age were the same, and none of them had the charm that Paddy did. But he was married, and I had tried my best to respect that.

However, that all changed when he invited me out a few nights after meeting. We were at dinner, and I was sitting beside my aunt, one seat down and across from Paddy. Drinks had just been served when Paddy eyed my drink.

“Water? Really? On vacation?” He asked, noticing my lack of alcoholic beverage.

“Oh, she doesn’t drink.” Louise said for me, causing me to roll my eyes.

“What, why not? Personal health? Religion?” Paddy asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes soft.

I side eyed my aunt before sighing and looking back to Paddy, “They’ve never let me.”

Paddy pulled back with a shocked face, “Oh, come on! You’re on vacation! You’re an adult! Indulge a little. I’ll tell you what, order whatever you want, it’s on me.” He said.

I smiled at him, “I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” I said honestly.

He laughed, looking down and shaking his head before looking back at me. “Let me help.”

He then proceeded to ask me a list of questions about my preferences, like if I liked sweet or bitter things, do I like fruity things, what flavors I preferred etc. Once he was, he nodded.

“Okay, I think I got it. Do you trust me?” He asked, and I nodded.

Then he flagged down the waiter and secretly ordered my drink for me. I could feel my aunt looking at me in slight disbelief. But I didn’t care. She and my uncle drank wine all the time. I was old enough to drink, so why not?

Eventually, the waiter brought my drink to me and I hesitantly took a drink as Paddy watched with anticipation.

“So?”

“That’s really good.” I said honestly.

Paddy clapped his hands in a small personal celebration, “Perfect!”

Dinner continued on with conversation among all of us. I finished my drink and began drinking my water again. I was listening to my Uncle drone on about something when I saw Paddy flag down our waiter again and point to me before sending me a small wink. I was brought another drink, which I happily accepted. By the time dinner concluded, I had downed 3, and I was feeling it, especially once I stood up.

“How we feeling?” Paddy asked.

“Great.” I said, giggling.

“Ah, yes, a giggly drunk, much better than a grumpy one.” Paddy said to my aunt, who just gave a thin-lipped smile and nodded.

“We should probably get going. It’s late.” She said waving me over to her.

Even with my mind fuzzy, I knew there was no point in putting up a fight.

“Actually,” Paddy’s voice made me pause, “Ciara and I were going to go to a club down the road after we put Ant to bed. We wanted to see if you, all three of you, wanted to join us. Just for a couple of hours, nothing crazy.”

“Not tonight, we’re all pretty tired.” My uncle said.

My aunt nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s late anyway. But thank you for the invite.”

Paddy’s eyes fell on me, and he raised an eyebrow in question. The liquor flowing through me gave me the courage to look at my aunt and uncle before turning back to Paddy and Ciara.

“I would love to.” I said, making Paddy smile.

“Oh, Yn, come on, you don’t want to impose.” My aunt said, touching my shoulder, but I brushed her off.

“She isn’t, I promise. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Ciara said, “Go on up and get changed. We’ll swing by and get you after Ant is in bed.”

Reluctantly, I followed my aunt and uncle up to our room. When we got there, I went straight to my suitcase and dug out a specific dress. I pooped the tags off of it before going into the bathroom to change into it. It was definitely unlike anything I had ever worn before. I showed off all my best assets, and I looked hot. I touched up my makeup before walking out to change my shoes.

“What on earth are you wearing?” My uncle asked from where he sat in his bed.

“A dress.” I said bluntly, grabbing my shoes.

“You’re not wearing that out. You look like a hooker.” He said but Louise put a hand on his arm.

“Look, you can’t even insult your niece without her telling you what to do.” I said as I put on my shoes.

“Yn, maybe you should stay in tonight. Meet some of the people your age here. I’m sure they’d go to the club with you.” Louise offered.

“Why wait?” I said, but before they could say anything, there was a knock on the door.

I opened it, and Paddy was standing there dressed nicer than he was at dinner. It was taking everything in me not to stare.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yup!” I smiled.

“Don’t worry, Ben, she’ll be returned in one piece!” He called into the room after I stepped out. He pulled the door shut, and we began walking down the hall.

“So… change of plans… Ciara isn’t coming…” He said, watching to gauge my reaction.

“Oh…”

“Is that okay with you? I mean, if you’re at all uncomfortable, we don’t have to go.”

“No, I still want to go. I think I’m losing my buzz, though.” I said with a small laugh.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He said, offering me his arm. I took it, trying not to blush, “Let’s go.”

Walking into the club, attached to his arm, just felt so right. It felt powerful. Paddy had an intimating aura about him that when people saw him they stepped out of his way. He walked us straight to the bar and ordered us some drinks.

Before I knew it he and I were on the dance floor, his hands on my hips as we danced together. Our bodies were pressed against one another. The booze in my system was clouding my judgment. I knew this was wrong. I was grinding on a married man over twice my age.

They called for the last call at the bar, and I drug Paddy back to it for us to get one more drink in. We both had a thin sheen of sweat covering our bodies as we waited for our drinks. There weren’t many seats so I was sitting while he stood right behind me, chest pressed against my back.

“You look stunning, by the way.” He said over the music.

“Thank you. You’re not too bad lookin’ yourself.” I shot back just as our drinks were set down.

We drank them quickly before stumbling out and making our way back to the hotel. I was a complete stumbling, giggling mess, holding onto him for support so I wouldn’t fall.

“Wait. I have a horrible idea.” I said.

Paddy looked over at me, waiting for me to answer.

“We should go jump in the pool,” I said, giggling.

“I bet you won’t.” He said, challenging me.

I wasted no time grabbing his hand and leading him over to the now-closed pool. I quickly took my heels off before walking over to the edge. With one last look over my shoulder at him, I jumped. When I resurfaced, he was laughing his ass off, clapping.

“Well, come on! Your turn!” I said.

He quickly slipped his own shoes off and took his watch off, setting them on one of the chairs before jumping in with me. He swam under the water and popped up right in front of me. His hands went to my hips once again as he pulled me flush against him.

I was looking up at him, eyes fliting from his eyes to his lips and before I could process it he was leaning in. But I stopped him.

“Wait… what about Ciara?” I asked quietly.

“It’s okay. That’s why she didn’t come tonight. She wanted me to have this tonight, to have you tonight.”

That was all the convincing it took me to reach up and pull him down to meet my lips. He backed us up until my back hit the wall of the pool. His hands roamed my body, and one of mine was tangled in his hair. Things were heating up until we heard someone clear their throat.

He slowly pulled away from me, and then we both turned to see one of the hotel workers standing there with their hands clasped in front of them.

“I am sorry, but the pool is closed.” They said in a thick Italian accent.

“Oh yes, sir. My apologies, you see, she fell in, and I had to save her… I was just making sure her airways were cleared.” Paddy said.

The worker was clearly not amused by the jokes.

“We’ll get out right now.” Paddy said grabbing my hand as he led us to the stairs.

We got out and collected our belongings, still laughing to ourselves until we were out of sight of the worker. Then, all hell broke loose as we began laughing fully.

“He was so not impressed with your bullshit, Paddy.” I said, holding onto his arm with one hand while I carried my shoes in the other.

“He’s just got a stick so far up his ass he doesn’t know what humor is anymore.” He replied.

I grabbed him by the open collar of his shirt and pulled him to me and attached my lips to his once again. He aggressively pushed me against the wall, deepening the kiss. Slowly, his lips left mine and began making their way down the side of my neck. I tilted my head to the other side to give him better access to it. He was alternating between soft kisses and small bites. Then he bit down harder than he had been right on that sweet spot on my neck, and a small moan left my lip. He stayed there working on what would be a dark hickey come morning, but I couldn’t care. I would wear it with pride.

Once he was done, he pulled away to admire his work. Then his lips were on mine again. My mind was wandering off to all the things I wanted him to do to me. His hand found my wrist and grabbed it. Then, he brought my hand down between us and placed it firmly against the growing bulge in his pants.

“You see what you’re doing to me, baby? I want you so bad.” He said, pulling away and resting his forehead against mine.

A small whimper left my mouth as he grinded against my hand.

“Take me. Please, I’m yours, Paddy.” I said, kissing him again.

He pulled away once again but then began leading me by the hand still on my wrist down the halls to his room. I hesitated as he went to open the door.

“She’s not here. She’s across the hall with Ant in his room. Remember, she wanted me to have this.” He said, eyes dark with lust and his voice dropping low.

I nodded at him to continue and he opened the door, leading me inside. He once we were inside he shut and lock the door behind him. I suddenly felt shy and was subconsciously pulling the bottom hem of my dress down in a futile attempt to cover myself up in front of him.

“Oh, baby, don’t hide.” Paddy said, walking over, grabbing gently by the hips and kissing me surprisingly softly compared to earlier.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never…” I sighed in embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re a virgin?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together softly.

I shook my head, “No… not technically…” I said.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, we just go to bed.” He offered but I shook my head again.

“I want to, trust I want you. I’ve just never orgasmed before with someone else…only myself.” I finally admitted, clearly nervous.

“Do you doubt my ability to make you feel good, darling?” He asked, voice dropping low again.

“No, I just worry somethings wrong with me.” I said truthfully.

Paddy shook his head this time and began walking backwards, pulling me with by the hands still on my hips. He sat down on the edge of the bed and then guided me to straddle him.

“We’re not leaving this room until I give you the most earth shattering orgasm I have ever given a woman. Understand?”

I took in a sharp breath at the sudden commanding tone he took on, but nodded my head.

“Use your words. I won’t remind you again.” “Yes, sir.” I said, voice already breathy from the way he was making me feel.

“Good. Now, be a good girl and take this dress off for me. I want to see you, all of you.” He said.

I stood from his lap and then reached behind me to unzip my dress. Once I had it unzipped I pulled it down off my body exposing my bare brests to him. He moaned at the sight of them but I kept going. Since it was a tighter dresser and was still wet from the pool, I had wiggle a bit to get it off my hips and over my ass, causing my tits to bounce with the movement which only spurred Paddy on. Once it was past my thighs, I was able to drop it and have it fall around my feet. Since I hadn’t worn any panties with the dress I was now standing completely bare in front of him as his eyes roamed over my body.

“This whole time that’s all you had on? I could’ve been fucking you with my fingers this whole night…” He said, shaking his head.

I bit my lip at his words. That would’ve been hot.

“Oh, you like that idea… next time.” He said, making my stomach do a flip. Would there really be a next time?

“Get over here, I need to see those tits up close.” He said.

I stepped forward again and straddled his waist once more. His hands wasted no time going to my brests. He toyed with them roughly, rolling my hardening nipples between his rough, calloused hands.

“Fuck, these things looked great in that swimsuit you wore yesterday but nothing, nothing compares to them in the flesh.” He said, before dipping his head down and taking one of them in his mouth.

His tongue swirled around my nipple before his teeth ever so subtlely grazed it. He didn’t actually bite down but it was enough to earn a moan from me. I was become desperate for some friction and I hadn’t even noticed that I was grinding down on his lap until he removed his mouth from my tit.

“Ooh, someones eagar.” He said.

Then, without warning, one his hands dipped between us and he ran his fingers through my folds, feel the wetness that had already began to pool.

“Oh she’s very eager.” He said as one of his fingers just barley entered me before he removed his hand completely urning a whine from me.

“Don’t whine, baby, Paddy is going to take good care of you.” He said, using his oter hand to pull me into a quick kiss.

He then guided up off his lap to sit beside him before he stood up.

“Fair is fair, darling.” He said as he began to remove his own clothes.

He began with his shirt, which while he was extremely toned and very attractive physically, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already seen laying out by the pool. Then he stepped forward towards me with his pelvis slightly forward. I couldn’t help myself from starring at the pitch that was clearly aching to be let out of the confines of his pants.

“Go ahead, darling, you can do the honors.” He said.

I slowly reached up and grabbed his belt before undoing it. My eyes met his as I looked up through my lashes and I undid his pants. Then my focus dropped back down as I grabbed the waist band of his boxers and his pants and pulled them gently, finally releasing his hard cock. I couldn’t help myself but stare at it and admire it for a moment.

“Are you gonna stare at it all night, or do you want me to fuck you with it?” He asked, voice deep.

I looked up at him once again through my lashes and went to nod my head but remembered his words from earlier.

“I want you to fuck me with it.” I said making him smirk.

“Then get up there.” He said, nodding the head board.

I scooted up on the bed and he crawled over to me. His lips found mine and this time I allowed my hands to explore his body from his toned chest to his hair to his strong arms. Everything about him was intoxicating. It was like ever single on of my senses was completely consumed by him.

He was using one hand to support his weight above me as his other travled down my body to my core. Once again, he ran his fingers through my folds then slipped one in. However this time he let it go in much further. Then he slipped another one in, working me open and stretching me out to prep me for his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can already feel how tight you are.” He said, against my lips.

He kept pumping into with two fingers for awhile until he slipped a third one in which took my breath away. My moan was swallowed by his mouth as he fucked in and out of me with his thick fingers.

When he finally pulled them out he pulled away from my lips and began cleaning his hand off with his mouth. “Taste like fuck heven, sweetheart.” He said, leanined back down to kiss me, allowing me to taste myself on his lips.

He finally pulled away, leaving my lips swollen from the kiss.

“You on birth control?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah.” “Good.”

That was all the warning I got before he was sliding into me. The stretch was borderline painful in the best was possible. And the moan that I let out sounded like it was straight out of a porno.

“Fuck, baby, you trying to wake up the whole damn hotel?” He teased.

“I’m sorry.” I said, still out of breath.

“No, let them hear you. Let them know you’re getting the best fucking you’ll ever have. Let them know you belong to me.” He said.

My walls squeezed around him at his last words.

“You like that? You want the world to know I fucked your brains out?” “Y-yes.” I managed to sigh.

“Good.”

And with that he began pounding into me at a brutal pace. He had grabbed one of my legs and hooked it over his hip, giving him the angle to hit so deep into me, I was sure my cervix would be bruised the next morning.

He continued his pace, never letting up for a second, “You’re so fucking tight. Feels so good. No wonder no other man could make you come, they probably came within a minute of being in your perfect pussy.”

He adjusted his angle ever so slightly and was hammering into that soft spongy spot that had me seeing stars. He must of seen my reaction to this new angle because he began getting cocky.

“There it, that’s the sweet spot isn’t it? Those other men couldn’t reach if they tried. Your pussy was made for me and me only, sweetheart. You needed Paddy to fuck you. Only I can make you feel this good.”

I could feel that familiar tension grownign deep in my stomach. It was a feeling I had only ever felt when it was me alone with my vibrator. It was building up faster than it ever had before.

“Fuck, Paddy, I-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I was clamping hard around his dick as I came.

Paddy was muttering curse through gritted teeth as I held him in a vice grip. Then, just as my orgasm was dropping of, he shifted he weight to one hand and brought the other one down to rub tight circles on my clit as he began thrusting into me once again. It was almost overstimmulating as I was rushing towards a second orgasm so quickly. I was reduced to a blubbering mess under him as he did exactly what he set out to do, fuck my brains out.

I could feel the second orgasm soaring towards me, my hands were gripping the bedsheets in a deathgrip. I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence at this point.

“You close baby?” Paddy asked.

I managed to nod.

“Go ahead, come for me one more time.”

With that, my second orgasm his me like a wreaking ball, completely shattering the world around me. My walls squeezed him even tighter than before if that even possible. This time he fucked me through it chasing his own release before his rhythm faltered and he released thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of me. He stayed like that releasing every last drop he had before slowly pulling out.

He flopped beside me with a heavy sigh as I laid there catching my breath. I could feel the mixture of our releases seeping out of me but I honestly couldn’t care less about that.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Fucking perfect.” I said, eyes closed in pure bliss.

I heard him let out a low chuckle before turning onto his side and pulling me to him so I was laying there with my back pressed against him. He held me close as we both enjoyed to stillness that had settled over the room.

“You’re mine now, don’t forget it.” He whispered darkly in my ear.

It sent a shiver down my spine in the best way possible. I turned around in his arms to look at him. I leaned in pressed a soft kiss to his lips before whispering back, “I’m yours.”

taglist: @comicbookslut @dreamygirli3

#speak no evil #paddy #paddy feld #speak no evil 2024 #speak no evil smut #paddy speak no evil #paddy x reader #paddy x you #paddy x reader smut #speak no evil paddy #speak no evil movie #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy #james mcavoy smut #paddy x reader smut speak no evil

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pickingupmymercedes · 6 months ago

Text

My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

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terastalungrad · 7 days ago

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I'm reading Life in Code by Ellen Ullman, writings on tech and philosophy.

I love the chapter "Is Sadie the Cat a Trick?", where Ullman talks of the 19 years she had with her cat Sadie, and - while reflecting on Artificially Intelligence - wonders whether the relationship between them was an illusion.

Was Sadie merely behaving according to her "programming"? Was Ullman merely imagining sentience?

Ullman considers various aspects of her relationship with Sadie. First, companionship. Second, familiarity:

[H]er coming to meet me at the door (even when her bowl was full, so it was not in the hope of getting dinner). There was mutual recognition of ritual: I knew the time of day when she moved to her favourite chair to take the sun, so I anticipated it and raised the shade. She knew I wrote in the morning, and, before I got to the desk, she was lying on her pillow by the heater, which had not yet been turned on. If it were just warmth she'd wanted, she could have stayed in bed with Elliot, who was living with me by then. Instead, she decided she would wait for me by a cold heater.

I love this paragraph very much. This reflection on the familiar behaviour of a pet, ostensibly to work out if there's a difference between a pet and sufficiently advanced AI. But also, it seems to me that this is an investigation into love itself.

Did Ullman's cat love her? Do any of our pets love us?

Instinctively, we think "yes". Ullman has applied a programmer's mind - and a philosopher's mind - to the question:

Companionship, familiarity, expectation, mutual recognition, bodily comfort: if this is not a definition of love between aging creatures, I don't know what is.

I'm away from home for a few days, with gigs in London and Birmingham. I always miss my wife when I'm away, and this essay hasn't helped at all thank you.

It makes me think of our own rituals. Sometimes - not often - I'm awake before Elanor. I know what time her alarm will go off, so I join her in bed a minute before, so she wakes up gently to a cuddle before the cold brutality of the alarm. When I'm working in the study, Elanor will sometimes open the door a crack, and wait to be invited in.

This is the difference between love and programming. Last time I was away, Elanor defrosted the freezer - an accomplishment of immense bravery and determination. She didn't tell me this, but when I came home she challenged me to work out what chore she'd done while I was away - knowing that, letting me discover this action by opening the freezer would be the best possible way for me to find out she'd done this.

How did Elanor know this? We've been together 20 years this month. Perhaps she reflected on the fact that I'm delighted by surprise, and by playfulness. Maybe she thought about the way I like stories - and that investigating the house, searching for new jobs completed, would give me the thrill of an adventure. It's possible she considered my love of novelty and shared experiences - and came up with this way of presenting her accomplishment according to these principles; these techniques for controlling the reveal.

All of this *could* be true. That Elanor consciously processed, analysed the data. Her understanding of me. Maybe, perhaps, possibly.

But I think she just knew.

Familiarity. Expectation. Recognition. Love between aging creatures!

People are so excited that generative AI can produce ugly pictures and bland copy. But I don't think it would curl up in front of a cold heater in an empty study.

Because any relationship with a program is an illusion. It isn't love. Because love isn't defrosting the freezer. Love is defrosting the freezer while your partner's away, anticipating their response, looking forward to their joy.

#Ellen Ullman #cats #artificial intelligence #love

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cerisesparadise · 2 months ago

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this one's for you — lee heeseung

pairing - basketball captain!heeseung x supportive girlfriend!reader

genre - fluff, established relationship, university au, sports au

warnings - rivalry (it's just friendly competition between enhadream though lol), mentions of kisses - lmk if there's more!

wc - 1.7k

sypnosis - In the midst of a fierce rivalry between two universities, Decelis Academy of Excellion faces off against NCIT - Neo Culture Insititute of Technology - in a championship game. As tension builds on the court, his girlfriend’s unwavering support becomes his secret weapon

mentions - nct dream as the opposing basketball team (my engene czennie heart <3)

a/n - hi!! i'm cerise!! i wrote this because i was scrolling through tiktok and saw clips of movies like "she's dating the gangster" and "high school musical", so ofc, the first person to come into mind was heeseung. though this isn't the first time i've written something, it is the first post on this blog (i'm so rusty- i apologise :') ). so here's to my first post - hope you enjoy reading!

also- i know heeseung's jersey in the header pic says 11 but for the sake of the story pls pretend it's 01 </3 | bookshelf

The atmosphere in the arena is electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Tonight, Decelis Academy of Excellion is facing off against their long-time rivals, NCT Dream from the Neo Culture Institute of Technology. This isn’t just any game; it’s the championship finals, a battle that both teams have been gearing up for all season. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the entire university has turned out to show their support.

You sit among the packed bleachers, the air thick with school spirit as students wave banners and shout team chants. It’s a sea of blue and white, the colours of Decelis Academy, and you can feel the pride radiating from every corner of the gym. As the clock ticks down to game time, the anticipation grows, every heartbeat syncing with the excited chatter around you.

Down on the court, Heeseung, the captain of your university's basketball team, Enhypen, is warming up. He’s the embodiment of focus and determination, his eyes scanning the court while he practises his shots. You can’t help but admire him — the way he commands the game, the way he leads his teammates with both skill and charisma. But tonight is different; it’s not just a regular match. This is a culmination of years of rivalry, and the pressure is palpable.

As the lights dim and the spotlight shines down, the announcer’s voice booms through the gym, introducing the teams. The crowd erupts in cheers as Heeseung and his teammates take the court, and you can see the camaraderie among them, the bond forged through countless hours of practice and shared goals.

You pull Heeseung's oversized varsity jacket tighter around yourself, the warmth and scent of his cologne comforting. It’s your way of feeling connected to him, even as he prepares to lead his team into battle against NCT Dream. You watch him with pride, knowing that this game is more than just a championship; it’s a chance to establish Decelis Academy as the reigning champion over their rivals.

As the game unfolds, the tension builds with every point scored. Heeseung’s skill is undeniable; he moves fluidly, orchestrating plays and rallying his teammates. The score is neck and neck, and with each possession, you can feel your heart racing alongside the crowd.

With only two minutes left in the game, the score is tied, and the tension is at its peak. You can’t help but bite your lip, every second feeling like an eternity. Suddenly, Heeseung catches your eye. You can tell he’s feeling the pressure, but then, as he glances your way again, he does something unexpected.

He taps his chest twice, subtly, then points at you. You don’t realise what he’s doing at first, but then he mouths something, clear even from across the court: “This one’s for you.”

Your breath catches. Before you can process it, Heeseung is back in motion, his body moving like it’s running on pure instinct. Flashes of memories flood his mind, reminding him why he fights so hard for this victory.

He remembers those late night practices, standing alone on the court as the gym echoed with the sound of his dribbling. Suddenly, he hears a familiar voice. “Come on, Hee! Just one more shot!” It’s you, sitting on the bleachers with a smile that lights up the dark gym. You’ve been there every night, keeping him company and offering encouragement even when he’s exhausted.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, shaking his head, and with renewed determination, he sinks the next shot effortlessly. Your applause echoes in his mind, pushing him forward.

The day before the championship, Heeseung had been a bundle of nerves, pacing in his room. You sat next to him, holding his hands and looking him in the eye. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Just remember, win or lose, I’m proud of you, Heeseung.” you said softly.

His heart swelled at your words, grounding him in the moment. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make you proud,” he promised, and in that instant, he believed he could conquer anything.

He remembers a time when he had been feeling down after a particularly tough loss. You surprised him with his favourite snacks, setting up a little picnic on the bleachers. “You know what? You’re still my number 1, no matter what. That’s your jersey number for a reason, Hee.” you said, your eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Really?” he asked, his heart lifting at your words.

“Absolutely! And besides, I’m always here to support you,” you assured him, and he couldn’t help but smile at how lucky he was.

Then there was that one practice where he felt like he just couldn’t hit a shot. Frustrated, he threw the ball down, running a hand through his hair. You stepped in close, your expression sympathetic. “Hey, even the best have off days. Remember when you taught me to shoot? I thought I’d never get it!” You demonstrated a dramatic air ball, making him burst into laughter.

“You’re right,” he admitted, a smile creeping back, “But you eventually got it, didn’t you?”

“Exactly! And you’ll find your rhythm again. Just give it time,” you encouraged, and he felt the weight lift off his shoulders, renewed with confidence.

During practice, you had always cheered from the sidelines, celebrating even the smallest victories. “Yes! That’s it, Hee! You’re on fire!” The way you looked at him, full of pride ignited something else inside him. He wants to replicate that joy on the court tonight, not just for himself but for you.

The memory fades, and he focuses back on the court. The countdown begins, and he recalls your unwavering support, how you’ve always been his anchor.

On the court, players from both teams are moving in a flurry of motion. Heeseung calls out to his teammates, his voice cutting through the noise. “Jake, move to the left! Sunghoon, set the pick!”

“Got it!” Jake replies, darting into position while Sunghoon takes his place, ready to block an incoming defender.

The crowd roars as Heeseung manoeuvres through the opposing players, sweat beading on his forehead. He catches a glimpse of you in the stands, your eyes locked on him, radiating support. That glance fuels his determination even more.

“Stay focused!” Jungwon shouts from the perimeter, eyes scanning the court. “We need to take control of this game! Make every second count!”

“Let’s go, Decelis!” the crowd chants, the rhythmic clapping reverberating through the arena.

As the game continues, Dream counters aggressively. A tall defender lunges at Heeseung, trying to steal the ball. “You think you can get past me, Captain?” Jisung taunts, grinning.

Heeseung smirks back. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Park!”

He swiftly dribbles around him, passing the ball to Jay, who quickly takes a shot from the three-point line. The ball sails through the air, but the tension rises as it bounces off the rim.

“Get the rebound!” Heeseung yells, sprinting toward the basket.

Riki is there, leaping high to grab the ball before it falls. “I got it!” he shouts, landing solidly and passing it back to Heeseung, who is now at the three-point arc.

“Take it, Hee!” Sunoo calls, eyes wide with anticipation.

With the clock ticking down, Heeseung feels the pressure mounting. He glances at the scoreboard, then back at you. He taps his chest twice and points at you, mouthing the words “This one’s for you.”, dedicating the victory shot to you. He breathes deeply and launches the ball just as the buzzer sounds, the world around him fading to silence.

The ball arcs through the air, time slowing as it nears the hoop. Heeseung holds his breath, and for a moment, the entire gym is silent, every eye glued to the ball.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Jake whispers, his hands clenched.

Suddenly, the ball swishes through the net, and the arena erupts into a symphony of cheers. Heeseung pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile breaking across his face as his teammates rush to celebrate with him.

“Let’s go! We did it!” Jungwon shouts, engulfing Heeseung in a hug.

“That was the cleanest shot ever!” Riki exclaims, high fiving him.

“I told you he’d make it!” Sunghoon laughs, slapping Heeseung on the back.

As the crowd continues to roar, Heeseung looks over to the stands, where you're beaming with pride. The moment feels surreal; he knows this victory is as much yours as it is his. You leap from your seat, your heart racing as you push through the flood of fans and teammates, your eyes locked on Heeseung.

“HEESEUNG!!” you shout, your voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Adrenaline fueled your every step as you sprinted towards him.

In an instant, you’re in his arms, jumping into him as he catches you effortlessly. The world around you fades as you both laugh, your heart soaring with pride and love. He spins you around, and as blue and white confetti begins to rain down from above, it feels like a scene from a fairytale.

“I can’t believe you did it!” you exclaim, breathless and beaming.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Heeseung replies, his voice warm and sincere. “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

With a quick glance around, he pulls you in closer, leaning down to capture your lips in a victorious kiss. The moment is electric, the soft flutter of confetti swirling around you adding to the magic. It drifts through the air like tiny stars, each flake catching the light and highlighting the joy of the moment.

“Get a room, you two!” Jake shouts playfully, laughing as he joins the cheering crowd.

“Captain’s got a new strategy – distract the opponent with romance!” Sunghoon jokes, earning a chorus of laughter from the team.

As the teasing continues, Heeseung pulls back slightly, still holding you tight, his forehead resting against yours. The blue and white confetti dances around you, settling on your hair and shoulders, but all you can focus on is the warmth in his eyes.

“Let’s celebrate together,” he says, eyes sparkling with happiness. The energy of the crowd only amplifies the warmth between you, solidifying this victory as one you’ll both cherish forever.

#bjnet #heeseung's bookshelf #enhypen imagines #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #cerise writes #i have a massive crush on hee i cant

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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Covering the Classics Part 19 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Bob is away, Anna can feel his absence everywhere. But nothing beats a perfect reunion.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Months later....

Sitting in the coffee shop alone after visiting so many times with Bob truly made Anna sad. She was so used to sipping her coffee while he drank his hot tea, and somehow the scent always clung to his hair for hours afterwards. She'd bury her nose against him when they got home, and he would laugh when she told him he always smelled good.

But now he was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. She accidentally burned her mouth on her coffee, and after that it tasted disgusting. She got herself a croissant, but they were better when shared. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath and convince herself that it would be over soon. Then she focused her attention on her computer as she worked through some more of the changes she wanted to make to her manuscript.

After three more paragraphs, it was no use. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet, but she gave up and switched to the notes app on her phone where she had been adding ideas for Jessica's bridal shower and bachelorette party. Physics jokes about the laws of attraction? Designer lingerie shop in LA? Can you make a math equation that looks like a penis?

She would defer to Advanced Calculus for that last item. With a sigh, she was about to close her computer, buy another croissant for Suzanne, and then head out when she saw a new email notification.

"No way," she gasped as she tapped on it and stared at her computer screen.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Anna's heart started pounding erratically, and her fingertips felt numb. Anticipation and confusion mingled together as she opened the link. It was difficult to read as she tried to take a deep breath, but she wanted to consume Bob's words as quickly as possible.

I can see the dusky outline on the horizon,

But the California coastline isn't enough.

I need to be at home.

I need my bookshelf.

I need my books.

I need your books.

I need my Anna.

I need to see you in the next two minutes,

Because twelve weeks is way too long.

"The next two minutes?" Anna mumbled to herself as she read the last lines over again. "Two minutes?" She was out of her seat immediately, neck craning around the crowded coffee shop, looking in every direction. And that's when she saw him stroll inside in his khaki uniform and silver glasses with the most handsome smile on his face.

"Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home. He was home early from his deployment. Communication had been a little spotty, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, but he was finally home.

"Anna," he murmured as she threw herself at him, knocking the wind out of her own lungs. His arms were wrapped around her as soon as her lips met his, and she didn't care if there was a whole shop of people watching them. He was finally home. Somehow he still tasted like tea, and he smelled so good, she buried her nose against his neck as he chuckled.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, kissing him just above his shirt collar.

"Jess told me," he replied easily.

She kissed her way up to his ear as he started to slowly walk her backwards to the small table where she'd been sitting. "Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up. I missed you so much."

"I just wanted to surprise you," he whispered, claiming her lips again as they stood next to the table.

She looked up at his pretty eyes and said, "This is a wonderful surprise. And I have one of my own."

"What is it?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing the freckles along her cheek and chin as she grinned up at him.

"I'm divorced."

His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?"

Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

"You drove my truck here? Let's go," Bob said, immediately carrying her toward the exit.

"Wait, I need my stuff!"

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly very flustered as he helped her shove her computer and phone into her bag.

"I was planning to get a croissant or something to take to Suzanne," she said as he practically dragged her outside and down the street to his truck.

"Well, I was planning on taking you back to the bookstore to pick out something we could read together tonight, but this is even more important."

Anna ended up with her back pressed against the side of the truck while he unlocked the door, and she pressed her lips to his Adam's apple while she tried to hold onto her bag. She wanted to taste him everywhere. "Going right home actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

"That's exactly where we're going," he promised, tossing her stuff onto the seat before helping her in as well. The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do."

She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

She watched as he swallowed hard before saying, "I know we talked about our future, but it was always kind of ambiguous while we waited for your divorce decree."

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now."

She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous.

"Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running. Kevin and New Jersey and everything that could have broken her but didn't were all left in the past. She was moving on a little bit more every day with Bob and her best friends and her tenure track teaching position at San Diego State. She was unashamedly taking excellent care of herself, and she never stopped Bob when he told her she needed to take a break and that he'd handle something for her. She wasn't going anywhere ever again.

"I want you forever, too. And we can go slow, or we can go fast. Or you can tell me you don't want what I have to give you, and that's okay too."

"What?" she asked, her heart sinking in her chest as he parked and climbed out. She wanted everything Bob had to give, and she wanted to give him everything, too. They even talked about getting married someday after he initially got over his nerves enough to bring up the topic. She had assured him that he was exactly the only person she would do that with after her disastrous first marriage. Why would he think she didn't want what he had to give?

"Bob?" she asked as she climbed out as well and met him on the sidewalk. "Why do you look so concerned?" He didn't respond. He only led her up to the porch and unlocked the door. "Bob!" she complained when he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, going two at a time until his breath was coming in shorter gasps. Instead of turning toward their bedroom like she expected, he went into the guest room and dropped her onto the futon.

She rarely came in here. It was almost funny that Bob planned on sleeping in this room when he insisted Anna come home with him after Kevin figured out where she lived. And now he was on his hands and knees, crawling under the futon as she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He hit his head and grunted in response, but a second later, he emerged with his hair all messed up and something in his hand. "I got you a ring."

"A ring?" she asked, realizing he was holding a small box. A jewelry box. She looked at him where he was kneeling in front of her, cheeks turning pink. "What kind of ring?" she whispered, hopeful yet needing to be sure.

Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

She hadn't worn the rings from Kevin in over a year and a half. She pawned them with no remorse before she left for California. "It has been a very long time since I was really married, Bob." She took the box from his hand and looked at the ring. She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess."

He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

Without another word, Anna took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She'd known Bob long enough to be sure that his words were honest. She was willing to throw it all in on Sky Writing. "We can take our time," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "There's no need to rush. But I definitely want to wear this ring."

They made a long, luxurious stop in their bed where Anna almost lost her voice from the number of times she called out Bob's name, and then he made her lunch before the two of them made their way to the living room bookshelf.

"We didn't make it to the bookstore to pick out anything new to read," she mused, brushing all of the colorful spines with her fingers.

"Maybe we could read the first book you ever recommended for me. Together this time," he replied, his hands settling on her hips as his chin rested on her shoulder.

Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages."

"I will gladly let you."

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

The End! Thank you for reading another adventure in the Sugarverse! I hope you learned that even when you're a mess and barely holding it together, you're still worthy of friendship and love. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd fic #robert floyd fanfiction #bob floyd #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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its-avalon-08 · 3 months ago

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it all fell down (ln4)

part2

multipart story! prev part3

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

Anna had always been the glue that held their group together. She had been there through the highs and lows, a steadfast friend to both Lando and Y/N. When Lando and Y/N were a couple, Anna was the third musketeer along with her boyfriend, sharing countless dinners, vacations, and memories with them. Even after the abrupt end of their relationship, Anna managed to remain close to both, somehow balancing her friendship without taking sides.

Now, Anna was celebrating her engagement to Liam, a charming lawyer she had met a year ago. The engagement party was set in a stunning hall overlooking the Mediterranean, the perfect backdrop for a night of celebration.

Lando arrived early, looking dapper in a tailored navy suit. The hall was buzzing with excitement as guests mingled and enjoyed the festive atmosphere. He made his way to the bar, ordering a drink and scanning the room for familiar faces.

"Hey, Lando!" Anna called out, beaming as she walked over to him. She looked radiant in her elegant dress, her happiness evident in every step.

"Anna, congratulations!" Lando said, pulling her into a warm hug. "I can't believe this day is finally here. I's so bloody excited for you."

"Thank you! I’m so glad you could make it," Anna replied, her eyes shining. "It's been such a whirlwind, but everything has turned out perfectly."

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world," Lando said, raising his glass. "To you and Liam and alot more beer!"

As they clinked glasses, Anna's expression turned slightly hesitant. "I wanted to tell you that Y/N isn't coming tonight," she said gently, her voice careful. "I know it might have been awkward, so you don’t have to worry about that."

Lando nodded, a mixture of relief and a pang of something he couldn't quite place. "Thanks for letting me know. I'm just here to celebrate you."

Meanwhile, across town, Y/N was finishing her final touches. She wore a stunning emerald green dress that highlighted her eyes, her hair cascading in soft waves. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead.

"Ready?" Claire asked, stepping into the room.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Y/N replied, forcing a smile.

As they arrived at the venue, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Anna had assured her that Lando wouldn't be there, but the memories associated with their friendship were hard to shake. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the hall, determined to focus on Anna and Liam.

Lando was deep in conversation with George when it happened. He was in the middle of taking a sip of his drink when he looked up and saw her. His eyes locked onto a familiar figure standing by the entrance, her silhouette as hauntingly familiar as it was devastatingly unexpected. Y/N.

The woman he had loved fiercely and lost abruptly, the ghost of a five-year love that had burned brightly then crumbled to ash, now stood only a few feet away. Her laughter, unmistakably hers, cut through the din, bringing back memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises. Lando's heart pounded as a thousand unspoken words and countless emotions surged within him. His heart was beginning to race, and then he caught the familiar scent of her perfume, a haunting echo of nights spent wrapped in her embrace. The years had changed them both, but the sight of her after so long hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over the carefully built walls around his heart.

He choked on his drink, sputtering as George patted his back. "Mate, you alright?"

Lando nodded, eyes still fixed on Y/N. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe."

George followed his gaze and his eyes widened. "Well, this just got interesting."

Y/N scanned the room, her eyes catching sight of Anna almost immediately. She started to make her way over when she felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning slightly, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Lando staring at her from across the room. For a moment, everything else faded away—the music, the chatter, the laughter—leaving only the two of them locked in a silent, poignant gaze.

"Y/N, you made it!" Anna's voice broke the spell, pulling her back to the present. She turned to see her friend approaching with a bright smile.

"Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything love," Y/N replied, hugging Anna tightly. "You look so amazing."

"So do you," Anna said, glancing between Y/N and Lando. "I’m so glad you're both here."

Y/N forced a smile, trying to keep her composure. "Wouldn't miss it."

As the evening wore on, both Lando and Y/N did their best to avoid each other, each painfully aware of the other's presence. But in a room full of memories, it was impossible to forget.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164

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queenpiranhadon · 24 days ago

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╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ʚɞ .ᐟ: Before going to bed, your twin daughters Nanako and Mimiko ask your husband for a bedtime story - the story of the day you two first met.

ʚɞ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: No curses AU (?), light cursing (they're crossed out because it's a bedtime story), whether Mimi and Nana are adopted isn't really specified so it's up to you, f!reader, you and Suguru are married, fluffy fluff, Suguru used to play basketball

ʚɞ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Suguru Geto x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ʚɞ

"Okay girls, time for bed."

Your twin daughters, Mimiko and Nanako eagerly dash to their beds, getting under the covers and staring at your husband in anticipation.

"...What?" Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't a stranger to his daughters' antics, and the eager gleam in their eyes was unmistakable.

"Can you tell us a bedtime story Daddy?" Mimiko asks, flashing her infamous puppy dog eyes in his direction.

"Yeah! About the time you and Mama met. Pleaaseee?" Nanako pleads, and Suguru groans.

Out of the two of you, though he hated to admit it, Suguru was definitely the weaker link when it came to your daughters.

He sighs. ""Fine, but only if you promise that you'll go straight to sleep after that."

The girls squeal excitedly and nods, situating themselves underneath their covers.

Suguru sits on the chair between the two beds, and turns on the little night light on the night stand.

"Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a boy who was on the the school basketball team."

Suguru remembers the day like it was yesterday. It was sometime in the fall during his senior year of high school, at the peak of Jujutsu High's basketball season.

He and his best friend Satoru were playing together after school had ended, just shooting hoops in the gymnasium until things got a little too... competitive.

"Pfft you're selling so hard right now Suguru!"

"Shut the fuck up Satoru - You couldn't pass a ball if your life depended on it!"

"How's this for pass, huh?" the white haired male challenges, but in an underestimation of his own strength, Satoru manages to throw the ball so impossibly high it sails through the air and into a window, shattering the glass and tumbling straight outside.

"Shiiiiiitttt... Well that's not great." Satoru says, and Suguru send him a withering glare.

"I'll get the damn ball- you figure out how to fix the fucking window before Coach Yaga gets here."

Satoru whines, groaning as he limply stands in the center of the court. "Wha- Suguru don't go! How am I supposed to fix a window?!"

Suguru just rolls his eyes, pushing open the double doors."Aren't you rich? Just figure it out."

"Bu-"

Running through the school doors, Suguru catches a flash of orange in his peripherals, eyes widen in horror as the basketball rolls down the street into oncoming traffic.

Shit! Shoot!

Suguru groans, racing down the sidewalk, hastily apologizing as he dodges random people walking across the same pavement.

Suddenly, his eyes lock onto the basketball halfway through the street, somehow still rolling - the ravenette wincing as it narrowly misses being flattened by a car.

Suguru grumbles. Fixing a window sounds a lot easier than this shit right now.

Reaching the end of the sidewalk, his eyes dart to orange ball again, incredulously watching it roll across the entire traffic ridden road with ease and making its way down to the park, tumbling even faster down grassy mounds.

How the fuck heck was it still rolling?!

Nanako gapes at her dad. "It was still rolling?"

Suguru nods, chuckling wryly. "It wasn't even too windy that day, I don't know how it managed to go that far."

Mimiko mirrors her sister's stupefied expression. "Did Uncle Satoru throw it that hard?"

He chuckles, amused by how invested they were in the story."I don't honestly don't know girls - maybe you should ask him."

Nanako nods decisively. "Okay Daddy, you can continue your story!"

Suguru rolls his eyes but smiles. "Anyways..."

Watching the basketball, he lets out a sigh of relief as it rolls to a stop in the middle of the park. The LED sign on the opposite side on the road indicating he can cross, and he dashes across the white lines marked on the road, racing down the grassy hills only for some random kid to come up and kick the ball further away from him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Suguru grumbles under his breath, legs starting to burn a little as he chases after the ball.

Finally stopping at the base of the hill, he panics.

Where did the ball go?!

It was like it disappeared out of thin air, and he groans, a feeling of hopelessness and dread washing over him. $60 dollars down the damn drain - oh god his dad was going to fucking kill him.

"What basketball costs 60 dollars?!" Mimiko asks.

Suguru shrugs. "It was a good basketball."

"And you threw the expensive basketball out the window?!" Nanako asks incredulously.

"Once again, that wasn't me, that was Uncle Satoru."

"If I had an expensive basketball, I wouldn't let it leave the house." Mimiko says, and Suguru sighs.

Sometimes, his girls' cleverness could be a little tiring to deal with.

"Do you want me to get to the good part or not?"

"Yes please!"

"Moving on..."

Suddenly, Suguru feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Um...sorry, is this yours?"

Nanako gasps. "Is that-?"

"Nana be quiet!" Mimiko chides.

Suguru turns around, eyes widening as he comes face to face with one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen.

You're a junior in high school around this time, attending a different school, but you happened to be in the park at the time, studying for an upcoming test, when a basketball rolled up and bumped into your feet. You were confused, but it wasn't hard to notice Suguru visibly panicking in broad daylight - and so you put the pieces together.

"I was not panicking!" your husband protests. "And this is my story, not yours."

You snort, entering your daughters' room. "Yes you were. You had this terrified look on your face, like the world was ending or something. Plus, if you're going to tell a story, tell it accurately at least."

Nanako and Mimiko grin up at you. "Hi mama!"

You smile warmly, kissing their foreheads lovingly, before raising an eyebrow at your husband, sitting on the edge of Mimiko's bed. "Weren't you telling a story?"

Suguru grumbles. "I was, until someone interrupted."

You wave your hand dismissively. "Don't let me stop you then."

Your husband rolls his eyes, continuing on.

"Here, I think this belongs to you." You say, handing the ball over to you.

Suguru stares at you, stunned."T-Thanks."

You give him a small but sweet smile. "I'll see you around?"

He nods, still in a trance, feeling like he's 12 years old again with a crush on some pretty girl he's met at the park.

"Yeah...I'll see you around."

Nanako giggles. "Oooooo Daddy's in looooveeeee~"

Mimko stares at him skeptically. "Are you sure that story was real?"

Suguru winks at her, raising his eyebrow. "Well I guess you have to decide."

"Do you believe in fairytales?"

A/N: Sorry if the shift between the story and the present was confusing 😭

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11

@ladygojooo @abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

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beannoss · 3 months ago

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Something I think about a lot and wonder if maybe gets overlooked in Twilight’s story and as vitally indicative of his character is actually in the very first chapter:

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

[Spoiler warning: Mostly this post deals with early chapters already in the anime but there is reference to chapter 62, which has not yet been animated and will be in season 3]

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims. His government made liberal use of the SSS — a group to mirror the Stasi — who continue to operate in morally dubious ways (much more likely they’re actively morally reprehensible, though we’ve mostly only had rumours of that so far). From what we can tell, Desmond is at best an absent father and likely actually worse than that: if that's how he treats his own children, imagine how he might treat others. And the timeline seems to indicate that the experimentation performed on Anya was done under Desmond's government — even if Twilight isn't aware of experimentation on children, he is aware of both human and animal experimentation under Desmond's government. Taking all that and also the complexity of Strix's aims, undoubtedly there were other things that could be done, more straightforward if not necessarily easier.

So. Why? Why entertain the change at all? And then, having entertained it, why go back when the reasoning is indisputable?

On the Doylist level, I think Endo wanted to ensure that Anya had some agency within the set up — Endo also does this with Yor. It would be much harder to be on Twilight’s side fully, or to trust him on an ethical level/take him as any sort of moral authority, if he were just straightforwardly using these two people. To have them be active and consenting participants (arguably to actually be affirming the arrangement: Twilight sets it up, but Anya and Yor actually make it happen) even if the audience only knows the depth of their knowledge/motivations/etc currently, shifts the power dynamic in important ways.

But it also the set up tells us important things about Twilight. He is largely impatient, cold, detached in chapter one. His overarching feelings towards Anya are, I think, real annoyance, real confusion, and real impatience. He just doesn’t understand this damn kid and it turns out she’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — he’d needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form. (Though I think one could ponder whether Twilight was, in many ways, an automaton himself at this point, but that's maybe for another meta 🙃)

He’s not entirely unmoved of course — we're given to understand he’s affected when Franky tells him how many times Anya’s been adopted and returned, and isn't amused by Franky's joke about names. Franky's comment — "Just don't get attached" — reinforces this. The prospect of “the future” perturbs Twilight when he’s reading the parenting books. His initial reaction to Anya’s kidnap is horror. All these are true too.

Then there’s also this, from earlier in the chapter:

It’s exposition, yeah, and it’s also exposing. "Hopes" and "joys" are very specific words to describe those events. It could simply have been "A marriage? An ordinary life?" but describing them as such — hope for marriage; joy in ordinary life — expose something of what Twilight feels about those two experiences and, on the flipside, they expose what he deems he's lacking. No hopes of intimacy; no joy in (an ordinary) life. There's an argument as well, of course, that he's being ironic but I don't think that actually invalidates the above analysis. Drawing attention to 'hope' and 'joy' at all are revealing, regardless of Twilight's tone in thinking of them. I think it's also interesting this panel, taken in conjunction with a pair of panels in chapter 62, Twilight's backstory. The above is almost a pulled out version of this below panel of Twilight's recollection of his childhood, and of course the returning image of not just a rubbish bin but a rubbish bin on fire when it comes to disposing of his identity:

Back to Strix. Both his final interaction with Karen and the whole everything of the framing of Strix is making Twilight think (and feel, ahem) things that he hasn't for some time. Twilight decides, I’m reworking this. It can’t proceed this way. Not because Anya is a pain in his ass, not because she’s not as (apparently) intellectually advanced as he’d originally thought, not even because he thinks he can find another child who would better be exactly what mission parameters called for. No:

And what changes his mind is Anya asking to come home.

One of the important parts of this to me is this:

He seeks consent.

This moment is a keystone, I think, to understanding Twilight. It’s also more telling than he maybe realises. Twilight is decisive — we all laugh because he spirals at the drop of a hat when his daughter or wife look even mildly upset but outside those (also very telling) scenarios, he makes decisions and he pursues them. Often he makes decisions quickly. He’s a dab hand at it; it’s a large part of why he’s as good a spy as he is.

He’d decided to change Strix.

Anya asks him, in essence, not to.

So, he doesn't.

But it's wild that he entertains keeping her request at all — why? Why even entertain it? It’s dangerous; it’s impractical; there are too many moving parts outside his direct control; Anya isn’t the sort of child he’d wanted for the mission if he’d spent any time thinking about what a child might actually be like; Strix is in many ways an extremely long shot anyway, Desmond could just stop attending for reasons unknown and unrelated; etc.

So, yeah, why? Maybe because of this —

In conjunction, I often think of this moment in the cruise arc:

Twilight first naming the feeling as lonesome, and secondly tacitly conceding that he perceives Yor as a companion and that that relationship is important to him, something to be missed. What makes this for me though is that Anya calls this out "Papa's you're so sappy" and Twilight's reaction is that of someone caught-out. He doesn’t say “nuh-uh!” but he may as well have. Essentially, something landed a bit close to home, hm? Maybe some of that hope for marriage? A soupçon of joy of an ordinary life?

Twilight’s loneliness underpins many of his decisions with his family — probably without him being fully conscious of it. I think he is at least somewhat conscious of it, but also if he looks too closely... Well, best not to. I could fill this post, I think, with images that demonstrate his loneliness throughout the series; that sorrowful/pensive close-up of his eye(s) is one of the abiding motifs for Twilight throughout. I'd probably start with this one from Twilight's backstory arc:

Anya's request plays directly off his loneliness. Still though, he doesn’t immediately capitulate — he emphasises Anya’s choice. Is she sure? The last day has been scary for a child (and for him, but he's ignoring that part) and Twilight, in his increasing recognition that Anya is a person, is probably aware in the back of his mind that he hasn’t exactly been warm or welcoming or at all patient with her. Things that people respond to — he's otherwise excellent at manipulating people, so of course he understands this. So. Given she'd just had this scary experience, given he hasn't exactly been great with her: Is she sure? She wants to come home — with him?

I think the moment may get a little lost because Anya says something riffing off his own earlier thoughts and self-revelation (featuring that shadowed, lonely eye motif again!)

Were this a post about Anya, I’d talk about how it’s an important character moment for her as well by way both of demonstrating her agency/choice and also that she isn’t nearly as dumb as Twilight thinks (and the audience, maybe, also thinks).

But in my view, she didn’t actually need to say anything about it making her cry. I think she could simply have said yes in that moment and Twilight would have agreed.

Twilight’s an unreliable narrator; he’s disconnected from his heart and that shrouds his own motivations from himself — something he actually also concedes in this chapter!

And it shrouds from us just how much he actually understands himself. He’s also a master of deflection. Easy to assume or say that bringing Anya home is just to align with Strix. Nothing more to see here; nothing else going on. But also that ripping off of the mask in the panel above — and the literal 'riiip' sound effects — also indicate to us that this is an unveiling to himself.

In my view, Twilight agreeing to Anya's request, deciding to go back to original mission parameters, actually shifts his motivations, subtly. Now he’s committed not only to the original mission goals, but also to Anya. He needs Anya to succeed at Strix, not only for Strix's sake, but also because otherwise the mission will end and she’ll have to go back to the orphanage, and he’s just agreed with her not to do that (not right away, in any case). I don’t think at this point he’s thinking it’s forever — his thoughts throughout the manga indicate he still expects the Forgers to be temporary. I don't think the shift in motivation is necessarily even conscious, but given the set up, I think something inside Twilight recognises that agreeing to bring Anya home is a compact, jointly engaged. Mostly all this has become subsumed into Strix: he makes decisions. He pursues them. He deflects, even from himself. Of course it's just for the mission; this saved him the trouble of reworking it, of figuring out something else. Nothing more to see; no need to think any more on it. And to be fair to him, Strix is very high stakes, resting pretty solely on his shoulders, so of course that is, objectively, motivation enough. Why even consider beyond that?

But I personally think that to the extent he's aware of it at all, there is something else going on, that he wants to have Anya for as long as it takes him to work something else out for her. If that's the case, then of course, we have Occam’s razor: the simplest solution may be the best one.

Maybe Twilight should just keep Anya himself, eh?

[Image description: gif from Spy x Family season 1, episode 1. Twilight and Anya have just found out Anya passed her entrance exam and are overjoyed. Celebratory, Twilight picks Anya up and swoops her into the air as they smile at one another. End image description]

#spy x family #spy x family meta #agent twilight #loid forger #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #i haven't talked too much about yor in this but ofc she is also an important part of this dynamic #i’ve been in my thoughts for weeks about twilight and they’re all pouring out 🥲#i tried to work them out in fic first but it was not enough 😤#should I put some of this post behind a cut? pls lmk if yes #also caveat that ofc i'm working from translations which may sometimes miss nuance/be somewhat off from endo's originals #here fandom take this!#gif #and i had a whole section about the complexity of consent in children and particularly a child with anya's background #ultimately tho this is fiction we're discussing and i'm sticking within those parametres pls and thx

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theprettynosferatu · 1 year ago

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Oh, you're awake. Finally. Please, look at the picture on the screen.

You recognize her, I suppose. Look at how silly she looks, trying to be tough, trying to look cool. All that leather and black and studs… doesn't she look ridiculous?

I see you nodding. Good. The special drink is grabbing hold of your brain. Making it softer. Malleable. You really should be more careful about accepting treats from strangers… but I suppose you won't have to worry about that anymore. Or anything else.

Now, let's look at your social media. Lord, isn't that pathetic. Trying so hard to be clever, to be snarky, to be rebellious. It's almost endearing, like a puppy trying to walk in its hind legs. Come on, we both know it's all just a costume, don't we? One you've worn for so long you mistakenly believe it's a personality- one you developed when you were a teen. One you need to grow out of.

Please, don't struggle. The knots are quite secure, I assure you. I've done this too many times to count. Why are you resisting, anyway? Do you truly, deep down believe this personality of yours is worth saving? Worth fighting for? Doesn't it just look as the pathetic attempt by a dumb girl to pretend to be something more?

Ah. I see you squirming. Was it the "dumb girl" comment? I suspect it was. Your pussy knows I'm right, and it's screaming its approval. It's screaming for you to accept its truth, pulsing with neediness and wet with anticipation… I wonder what it is about that word. “Dumb"... it does have an effect on you, tough girl. Dumb. Silly. Stupid girl. My oh my, is that a moan that just escaped your lips? I’m sure it was. Feeling softer, are we?

Softer indeed… I’m sure you can sense it still… the way it’s becoming harder and harder to focus. The way a pink cloud seems to be permeating your consciousness. The way you half-perceive the faint scent of cotton candy. The way you are getting more and more soaked by the second.

Oh, stop struggling. Tell me, why do you hate it so much? The idea of actually being a cute, silly, horny girl? I can see it in your eyes- the loathing. The searing, pure anger. Why, though? I suppose you are imagining all those girls, those popular girls, those slutty girls, those bimbos that soaked up all the attention and the praise. Am I wrong? I don’t think I am. But I do think you are hiding. Yes, hiding what really happened. You tell yourself a story, one that makes you look good, or so you think. That you’re better than them. Stronger than them. More independent than them. A free thinker! A rebel punk feminist! But that’s not the whole story, is it now? No, we both know what really happened. You surrendered.

Yes, that’s it. Your eyes can’t lie, you know. You surrendered because you could never, ever be like them, be as giggly and flirty and free- so you decided you wouldn’t compete with them on their own terms, and modeled yourself to be their opposite. How pathetic is that? Even in your resistance, you could only be defined by them, by your rejection of them. You became their dark mirror, and soaked in the attention of the leather-wearing so-called “punks” and the geeks and all the other rejects. But you know why they even looked at you: because the other girls, the pretty girls, the girls in pink wouldn't even deign to turn their gaze towards them. You were always… what they settled for.

You think I’m being cruel. Well, I won’t deny that I get some pleasure from throwing the truth at your face. It’s always so much fun to watch you all fight, and moan, and deny that they would do anything, anything at all to be able to finger fuck yourselves to oblivion… But believe me, my cruelty has a purpose. I wouldn’t be doing this to you if I didn’t have a higher goal in mind. A benevolent one.

I can take it all away. All that resentment, that anger, that anxiety… that constant, pointless quest to be… what? A professional? A successful woman? An independent soul? Please. That’s only so much set dressing. I can strip those delusions from you, give you what you really want.

Imagine it with me. Tight white jeans showing off your ass, the shape of your legs. A pink tank-top, proudly proclaiming yourself to be a princess in tacky, gold lettering. The men turning their heads as you walk. Everyone being so nice to you at parties… because they want to see you on your knees, licking and sucking and worshiping their cocks, because they want to bend you over and use your slutty pussy as their plaything. And you… you would love it.

No more fear. No more stress. Just the bliss of sucking three cocks, going from one yummy dick to the next, squeezing your titties together to give them the spectacle of their lifetimes. And then your cunt being filled, that hole you now hold your rage in given meaning and purpose by becoming a living set of holes for men to use, sensing the simple, plain joy of knowing you are doing what you were meant to do with your life. Knowing you are wanted. Desired.

I see you’re drooling. Sounds like you like my little proposal. Well, there’s one simple way to sign this pact with me. You don’t even have to speak- speaking seems so hard now, doesn’t it? So keep quiet and let your slutty body do the talking for you. Keep your mouth open.

There. Good girl. Doesn’t my cock look tempting? Amazing? Like you could just suck it forever? Yes, good girl… now, let me fuck your mouth- and know my cock is only the first of many. Too many to count.

Then again, by this point you can’t count too high, can you?

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

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romaritimeharbor · 2 months ago

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HEARTH FLAME. — In which the Knave's heir decides their fate.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injury (& the recovery following it), pain medications and slightly implied impairment of judgment because of them. it isn't really outright though and could honestly be ignored.

— pairings & notes. ambiguous genre; may be considered hurt/comfort. arlecchino & heir!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is a member of the house of the hearth and is arlecchino's chosen heir. occurs after the events of arlecchino's story quest. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. i would say "i swear i'm very normal about arlecchino" but i feel as if we all know that is not true. anyways for those that care about the lore behind this series of fics, i perceive this as the "turning point" in arle & [name]'s relationship in which the latter begins to realize how serious being the knave's heir is. but rn they are delirious on pain meds and do not realize the fate that they have condemned themselves to. yeag

Lightning struck their body at even the slightest of muscle twitches.

The bruises on their skin hidden underneath gauze and bandages throbbed with agonizing heat, their insides twisted and churned as their body attempted to repair whatever manner of internal injuries that they had oh-so lovingly been gifted, and their mind begged for restful sleep.

(No matter how tired they were, ever since they had awoken after being asleep for about a day, they had not been able to fall back asleep again... at least, not in a way that mattered. Their sleep was plagued by nightmares and worries that they could not shake, all concerning the very person who had put them in this condition in the first place. She hadn't come to see them yet. They were certain she would have, but she hadn't.

Was father... upset? Did they upset her?)

A soft sigh left their lips as they stared upwards at the ceiling from their bed—even the simple task turning over was nigh impossible, so they dared not attempt anything other than sleep. At least the admittedly rather laborious task of trying to fall asleep did not wrack their body with searing hurt.

In their spar, Father was neither kind nor easy on them, and they had a sneaking suspicion that she was especially hard on them. Lyney was already standing again and on the move, meanwhile Lynette and Freminet ended up slipping by with relatively minimal injuries, but them? Bedridden, without the slightest hope of being able to stand in the coming hours... or even days, probably. Their legs pulsed at the thought alone.

...But they did take the brunt of Father's attacks, so they supposed that was their own fault.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"I will not sit idly by and watch you bring unfathomable harm to my siblings."

Standing immovably in front of Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet with their weapon pointedly raised at the very woman who raised them was certainly not how they had anticipated their day going. Nevertheless, they were in that exact situation, and backing down was the last thing on their mind. Lyney seemed to want to say something—to tell them, to warn them, not to be stupid, maybe.

...But really, Lyney knew better, and as much as he worried for his sibling's safety, he also knew extremely well how Father was and how they were.

She would want to see their display of strength, no matter how miniscule in comparison to hers.

And them—they would not dare let Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet face this alone, even if it meant risking their safety and wellbeing.

(He also happened to know that his sibling could be a tad too eager to show Father the display of strength she desired, but that was just his own opinion, muddled by his biases and his own desire to protect and care for his siblings. He knew and recognized how his desires played tricks on him, but it did not make him any less bothered by what he liked to think of as his sibling's 'recklessness.')

Arlecchino's stare threatened to pry apart their soul at its very seams, but they failed to waver. Instead, they firmly returned her stare, albeit with less intensity. Their grip on their weapon tightened.

The Knave was going to absolutely destroy them, though hopefully not beyond repair.

They knew that, and they were fine with that. It was an inevitable truth; so be it.

In the defense of their siblings, they would be more than happy to shed blood—someone else's, or theirs.

"...I hope you can forgive me, Father."

In this case, theirs.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Destroy them, she most certainly did. It wasn't an unexpected outcome. They knew better than to think that they could actually beat her; at least their showing of strength (combined with that of their siblings' and the Traveler's) was enough to compel her to give a kinder execution.

'Execution.' Hm.

Execution.

The word bounced around in their mind for some time as they pondered.

They weren't quite sure if they saw it that way or not—on one hand, the mind was killed and reborn, but on the other, the body remained alive and unharmed.

What kind of execution could be so... gentle? So forgiving? None that they had ever heard of. No executions were so tender and compassionate as to preserve the gift of life.

...Perhaps that was simply a different kind of execution than what they were used to.

As their mind wandered, they absentmindedly mused about what their freed siblings were doing.

'Filliol and Nanteuil... where are you two now?'

Were they enjoying the sun?

Hopefully.

The soft click of a door opening and closing caught their attention, and for a moment they felt extreme relief—finally, someone had come to administer their pain medications... the ache sinking into their bones was about to finish what Arlecchino had begun at this point—but the click of heels that followed made their chest tighten nervously.

They turned their head slightly to the side. At their bedside stood none other than the Knave herself, an unreadable expression crossing her face when she saw the state they were in.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

"Father..."

"My child."

Arlecchino was quick to drag the stool at the foot of their bed to the side and sit.

"Father, I—"

They tried to sit up, grimacing through the pain that clawed across the entirety of their body as they did. The Fourth did not allow them to get far, however, and placed a firm hand on their chest. They had no choice but to settle back down, as the strength she was exerting against them was far too great for them to combat.

"Do not get up. You will only hurt yourself—"

"Father—"

"—And spare yourself the chore of speaking."

Their mouth closed without another word. All they could do was stare up at her, eyes wide and bewildered and perfectly displaying all the questions they wished to ask (and a bit glazed over due to the combined factors of their exhaustion and the strength of the medication they had been on), though one in particular stood out the most:

'Why are you here?'

Maybe the Knave could read their mind.

(She had no such ability. To know her children and what they were thinking was simply part of her responsibility as Father.)

"My child," she mused again, this time not in greeting, though she did not continue. Perhaps she was looking for the words. Her fingers gingerly brushed the hair from their face, briefly brushing over the scratch across their forehead.

Ah.

One among the many wounds she bestowed upon them a day prior. One of the most mild of her gifts, actually.

It wasn't regret that washed upon her upon realizing the severity of their wounds in particular—no, they made the choice to join the fight knowing well that she would not be gentle on them or their siblings, and she would argue that regret was a useless emotion only capable of holding one back. What's done was done. It was as simple as that. Regret, much like sorrow, does naught but hold a person back.

...Yet, she still felt something, though she struggled identifying what it was.

Maybe...

Maybe, now that the Fourth had seen them and the extent of the wounds she delivered, she felt that she had neglected her obligation as Father to visit their bedside in the midst of their healing.

"I'm sorry."

Their voice cut through her thoughts. Though they tried their very best to mask it, it wavered almost imperceptibly, the tremble only audible to trained ears—ears like hers. The Fourth Harbinger was not known for being obtruse. She noticed, and they could tell. Nothing ever slipped by her.

"And what is it that you are apologizing for, exactly?"

"I... I don't know. I just feel like you're disappointed in me somehow, and I don't know how else to remedy it at the moment."

'At the moment,' she assumed, meant their current bedridden state.

"I know not what has given you such an impression. I am not disappointed."

"...You're not?"

"Certainly not. If you are referring to your interception of our spar," she began, "defending your family is the most kingly action you could have taken in that moment. In fact, I expected no less of you."

"I'm not kingly," they replied, offering a weak chuckle as they continued: "At least, I don't feel kingly right now..."

"Then how is it that you feel?"

"Pathetic, maybe." They turned their head fully to the side so that they were able to meet her gaze. "I know I can't and probably will never be able to triumph over you in a spar, but—"

"Perish the thought," Arlecchino dismissed. "Immediately."

"Huh?"

Her eyes bore into theirs. This time, much unlike the time they stared at her in battle, they did not feel fear or nervous anticipation of what was to come.

"You did not win the war," she affirmed, "but I would certainly say you won the battle."

She leaned closer. With one hand, she brushed the framing hair that normally fell over her cheeks to the side.

There, a long cut was scabbed over with dry crimson, and suddenly, their heart leapt—whether it was from an odd pride in having been able to actually hit her, or shame and embarrassment that they actually caused harm to Father of all people, they did not know.

The Knave allowed her hair to fall back into place.

"Though the odds were stacked against you and yours, you ultimately managed to wound me. This was something that not even your siblings managed to achieve."

"I could argue that it's only because there were so many of us."

"Perhaps, but it was still you who caused this wound. I lost track of you for only a moment and you took the opportunity. Progress does not happen overnight, child, and your strength is still growing. One day, you will be the king of this house. You will deliver these kinds of wounds to others, as I have delivered to you." Her gaze shifted to their bedside table. "...That is, if you so desire that life."

The bottled flame swirled and flared in the vial under her gaze, as if it sought to melt through the glass and lunge, consuming everything in its wake and leaving nothing but ash behind.

Ah. Right.

They had almost forgotten that she had also allocated the resources needed to complete her 'execution' to them.

Silence, heavy with the weight of implication, endured for what seemed to be an eternity.

Then, they broke it:

"I do not wish to leave the house."

Arlecchino would have been perfectly content with letting them free—with snipping away at the webs they were so deeply entangled in, letting the flames cleanse the darkness from their veins, and thereby permitting them to step into the sun.

And yet... that was not what they wanted.

Perhaps it was a blend of bewilderment, pride, and annoyance that stirred in her chest.

What a foolish child they were, refusing freedom when it was so readily within their grasp. They had earned it, and yet they chose to reject it? How foolish, indeed.

The Fourth's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gazed down at them.

"Hm. Is that so?"

"Yes."

...But that foolish child was hers—her child and her successor. Hers, and hers for a reason, for better or worse.

If all of the Knaves who came before Peruere were not stubborn, then there would be no Knave to begin with. It was, therefore, only right that her heir be as much of a stubborn fool as she.

Her eyes seemed to soften, if only by a miniscule amount. Arlecchino placed a warm hand over their own, resting idly across their torso, and they hummed, daring to shift and intertwine her fingers with theirs.

Brief tender moments, always flickering like a dying flame, were rare in the House of the Hearth, especially when permitted or even initiated by Father.

Thus, they had no problem taking advantage of the situation that they were in, eyes fluttering shut as her warmth oozed into their hand and slowly crawled up their arm. It would soon consume their entire being, but rather than being scorched by it, they were certain that they would be lulled to sleep by it.

"So be it, then," she murmured, thumb absentmindedly running across their knuckle. "You are a fool."

A smile. The first that Arlecchino had seen from them in days, in fact, and it seemed to soothe something within her. "I know."

"Do not disappoint me."

Her tone cut as sharply as a knife, but they did not appear to mind a single bit; all they could do was smile at her.

Even when she was threatening them, all they could do was smile.

"I won't."

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

#✧— aphe's creations.#astronetwrk #divider by @/cafekitsune ♡#platonic genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #arlecchino @ reader: what an idiot child. my idiot child (un)fortunately

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skrrts · 3 months ago

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older, wiser & hotter than ever (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x song mingi ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, dating, fluff ✧ word count: 2,1k

Mingi didn’t anticipate spending his 25th birthday stuck at an airport because your flight home was canceled at the last minute. There isn't much you can do about it but it doesn't mean you won't make sure it's a birthday to remember in your own little silly ways.

a/n: i wanted to write something short and cute for his birthday. no special warnings. queued it to be posted at Korean midnight hour.

“I am really sorry we have no better news for you, but due to the weather, there won’t be any flights until morning, once the fog has cleared. However, your rescheduled flight at nine should leave as planned,” the woman apologized again, and you hurried to smile.

“Of course, I understand. Thank you so much for the help,” you offered a polite nod and turned around. After the most amazing week in Los Angeles, it seemed not all plans were meant to work out. Of course, everyone else frowned a bit when Mingi announced with a playful grin how you managed to plan your vacation so that you’d land and return home at the moment of midnight, him stepping out of the airplane as his birthday began. There was a bit of a romantic idea to see it as a symbol of stepping into the second half of his twenties.

Mingi was quite emotional about it; the idea of letting go of his youth was challenging, and you knew it was his way of dealing with it. Now the two of you were sitting at the airport, your flight was canceled because of bad weather, and neither of you had enough cash left to book another hotel to be a bit more comfortable.

Mingi was obviously disappointed. He always failed to hide it, as much as he hurried to smile when he saw you, his hand reaching out to pull you onto his lap.

“I take it they told you there is nothing they can do about it, and we have to please be understanding, while also reminding us that bad weather will not be a reason for the travel company to give us a refund.”

You laughed when he changed his voice, trying to sound like one of those travel agents. You curled your arm around his neck and placed a short kiss on his lips.

“Something like that. I guess we’re stuck here until tomorrow. At least you’ve got a great story to tell — just add a little more action and tension, like thousands of tourists stranded in Los Angeles, scenes close to a battle.”

It was nice to see his features form into his iconic smile: “Don’t forget about the aliens, then.”

The two of you laughed, and he sighed, allowing his chin to rest on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind, though, if we suddenly found a black credit card and could spend the night in one of those big, fancy airport hotels. That would be nice. We totally deserve that, don’t we?”

The idea of a large bed instead of the uncomfortable seating areas of the airport was certainly more tempting.

“Absolutely. Speaking of sleep, though, it’s getting late. While we’ll make it back home with half a day of delay, you still should rest a bit.” You ruffled his hair. “Don’t want to start your special day being all tired.”

Mingi pouted and looked at you before giving in. “Fine, but only with my favorite pillow. Let’s move to one of those corner sitting areas, then I can relax against the wall and you can lean against me.”

You nodded and took his hand, Mingi taking care of the luggage you shared with his free hand as you carefully made your way through the upset crowds of passengers, as you weren’t the only ones affected by this. At least you managed to find a more private spot quickly, a small sitting corner far from the ticket counters.

Once the bag was securely stored, Mingi got comfortable, opening his arms wide for you. You snuggled into his embrace, and his arms held you tightly, your head against his cheek as you listened to his heartbeat.

“This was a really fun vacation, even if it ends like this,” your boyfriend noted after a while, his voice sleepy but content. “I never thought I’d come here until you just said we’re gonna do it. The food was really good, and I will have to save up properly next time. Then, I can buy one of those fancy jackets, maybe some cool shoes to go along with it. I’ll wear both at the water restaurant, with some sunglasses, and flash you a smile so you fall madly in love with me, and we walk into the sunset.”

As you listened to him, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Mingi, you already are the coolest and hottest person to me, and while maybe your clothes aren't the big brands, you look amazing in every photo we took.”

As your head tilted a little to look at him, your gazes met, and he smiled lazily but happily. “I have the most stunning and gorgeous person by my side, just making sure I always live up to it.”

He always would have your heart and silly admiration; there was nothing special needed, but you knew Mingi was stubborn, and you did not want to tell him not to aim for something important to him.

“Said person would not mind a good night kiss.”

This time you were the one to pout your lips and grin, mumbling something about how you learned from the best, and you kissed. Your hand rested against his warm cheek as you slowly gave him a gentle shove to relax back.

“Time for that nap. We do not want to miss that late flight because of being too tired,” you teased, but Mingi yawned. Unlike you, he drifted off within minutes, and while you fell into a soft kind of slumber, it was not deep. You just could not see yourself sleeping at an airport at all, eventually ending up just watching passengers pass by, many leaving as it got dark and likely booking some hotel to spend the night there rather than here.

You pulled out your phone and checked the time; it was about an hour left to the eighth of August back at home. This was not how you planned it, but improvising was one of your strengths. You gave your boyfriend a gentle shove.

“Mingi, are you awake? I really need to use the bathroom.”

It took a moment, but eventually, Mingi stirred and gave you a small nod, a big hand ruffling through your hair.

“I’m awake, go ahead.” His husky, sleepy voice was nice — you always loved to hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised. A quick kiss was placed on his cheek before you got up and grabbed your bag. The truth was you had a few other intentions, a plan made on the spot, finding one of the many restaurants and bakeries at the airport. This one was a little smaller and seemed more personal.

When you approached the woman and asked for the favor, she seemed amused but offered a kind smile.

“That’s no problem if you say the flavor does not matter. We have a few smaller cakes. Would you like a ‘Happy Birthday’ with a name or an age, maybe?”

There was a hint of color on your cheeks: “Actually, I was thinking this?”

You had seen a few of those cakes on Pinterest when searching for ideas for Mingi’s birthday for the small celebration you two had planned for the weekend with friends.

The woman laughed, followed by her co-worker who also glanced at it: “That we can do as well. We just finished a new row of cakes, so give us twenty minutes and it should be done.”

You clapped your hands together: “Thank you very much.”

The woman smiled, and you sat down on one of the free chairs, dropping Mingi a message that you were hungry, and decided to grab some food on the way back, just so he wouldn’t be worried about where you went.

He answered within a moment with a few kissing emojis, so you were relieved to see he was doing okay.

The past few years with him had been some of the best. You loved how reckless he could be while also just embracing his cuteness when everyone else often thought of him as a guy who was a little mysterious and hard to figure out. If anything, Mingi always felt easy to read; the longer you two were together, the fewer the occasions where he would try and hide his feelings from you, something you honored by doing the same.

“Here you go,” the woman handed you a small box, and you opened it, giving it a glance before smiling.

“This is perfect, thank you!” The cake really was small, but that was perfect; wasting food was not an option, and you wouldn’t be able to take any on the flight.

“We hope even with this weather, he has a nice birthday.” The woman winked and gifted you two bottles of coffee for free.

When you slowly returned to your seats, Mingi looked like a lost puppy, his head going left and right to see just where you had been.

“You didn’t think I was running away, did you?” you teased softly as he looked at you, his face brightening up right away.

“Of course not, you just were gone for some time,” he replied, and his gaze wandered to the box in your hand. You offered one of the bottles to him; it was late for coffee, but he did not seem to question it after the two of you just had a nap.

“Well,” you started, looking at him. “I know this day was meant to be special, and we’re about to spend half of it on an airplane instead, but I don’t think that means it has to be any less amazing. After all, it is your day, and how could it not be?”

Look at you being all sappy! At least there was a blush, and he rubbed a hand over his neck.

“Yah, what’s this all about?”

Two minutes until midnight at home.

You smiled, leaning over to unzip the bag and pulling out something you managed to sneak in without him noticing when you packed. The branding on it already made his face surprised.

The two of you went to this one store; they sold really unique pieces of denim jackets, each one of a kind, but the prices were a little steep. So when Mingi tried on the same one four times but sighed because of the price tag, ultimately leaving it behind while talking about just how nice it had been for days, you knew this was it. You went back and bought it.

“Seriously?” Mingi looked like you gifted him a car rather than a jacket when he pulled it out and looked at it like it was the most stunning piece of clothing.

“You loved it so much, and you look good in it, so when I said I wanted to buy some souvenirs, I actually went back to the store. It is your birthday, so no notes about the price! You just owe me to wear it plenty and tell everyone how amazing I am,” you teased, and he pulled it on, right over his hoodie.

“This is the best — you are the best!” He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. It took a bit of effort not to just lean in and let him pull you over. The hour changed, and you smiled into the kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Song Mingi,” you whispered. Mingi was smiling brightly.

“Thank you. Oof, I love you so much!”

You laughed and finally offered the box to him.

“Well, I hope with a new age comes great hunger. Every birthday should start with a cake. Candles will have to wait for the other one at home, but until then, here you go.”

Mingi grinned: “Is that so? Ah, okay then!”

He accepted it and opened the box slowly, greeted by the text you requested.

‘Older, Wiser, and Hotter than Ever.’

Getting older was scary but also exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see where Mingi was going from here. You were happy to be the one by his side.

“I cannot deny I get older and hotter. I am pretty hot, am I not?” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes, smirking.

“Fine, I admit it.”

“ I will make sure it becomes a daily thing. I don’t promise to get any wiser, but the rest, leave it to me. You won’t regret it.”

Mingi kissed you again, and this time, you just allowed yourself to melt a little more.

Yeah, you were more than content to let him impress you, day by day, for the rest of your life, and all it would take was for you two to be yourselves and be together.

The world stopped, just for you, as thousands of passengers rushed through the busy airport.

#mingi x reader #mingi x you #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez writing #mn tag #mingi oneshot #mingi fluff #ateez fluff #reis writes #song mingi x reader

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 months ago

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The Lark Ascending (A Chaconne Story): Chapter 3 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: Being a rising soloist isn't all it's cracked up to be as you face new challenges, all while encountering Agatha Harkness at every turn.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Helloooo welcome to chapter 3! This chapter briefly deals with/mentions imposter syndrome & performance anxiety, so if either of those topics make you uncomfortable you have been warned. The piece mentioned in this chapter is Gluck's Melodie, from Orfeo ed Eurdice :) As always, thank you for reading & I hope you enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you think, my asks are always open!

Previous Chapter

There were few things in life that brought you as much peace as playing your violin. Taking a few hours to tune out the rest of the world and solely focus on your instrument was the fastest relief to whatever stressors were occurring. Unfortunately, that tranquility had all but vanished as of late- much to your dismay. But you tried to put it out of your mind- your week had been a blur of rehearsals, interviews, and press engagements to kick off the summer concert season, and this morning was no different. Before this evening’s big Donor’s Gala you would be leading a Master Class with promising young musicians in the area.

Getting out of the car, you took off your sunglasses, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight. This morning’s temperature was significantly warmer than you anticipated, and you found yourself melting by the time you made it inside the symphony building. Setting your violin case on the ground, you allowed the AC to wash over you, while making a mental note to remember to bring a water bottle in the future as you had been forgetting all week. It was early enough the building was nearly deserted, or at least you thought so as you relaxed in the air conditioning.

“Still getting used to the LA heat, dear?”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you dropped your keys. Whipping your head around, you were unsurprised to find Agatha staring back at you, amusement coloring her features. The conductor appeared to have entered the building right after you did, black sunglasses in one hand and her bag hanging off her shoulder.

While you looked like you were about to fall over, Agatha looked as put together as she always did, seemingly unaffected from the scorching temperatures.

“Agatha,” you breathed out, slowly regaining your composure as you gave the conductor a quick once over, the gears turning in your head. Symphony rehearsal wasn’t until the early afternoon, she was awfully early. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d assume the same reason as you; the Master Class,” Agatha pointed out before motioning to your keys that were still on the ground. “You might want to pick those up, it would be a shame if you lost them.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you reached down to pick them up, feeling Agatha’s gaze remain on you. “Last time I checked, I was running this class alone.”

“Clerical error.” Agatha insisted, carefully putting her sunglasses in her bag, before adding, “I’m sure someone was supposed to tell you I’d be joining you.”

“I’m sure.” You mused, thinking about how often this had been occurring as of late.

At first you didn’t think too much of Agatha’s unannounced appearances, because her explanations seemed logical enough at the time. When she dropped in on your interviews for your Artist in Residence with the LA Symphony, she claimed getting her interview done at the same time would be more efficient. During a meeting for PR, she rationalized needing to give her final approval as the orchestra’s music director. Even your late night practice sessions weren’t safe, as they almost always ended with the conductor sneaking up on you, her cackle echoing through the empty hall as you wondered if she was trying to kill you.

But the more she popped up, the more you wondered if her actions were as altruistic as she claimed them to be.

“Shall we?” Agatha prompted before taking off down the hallway, leaving you no choice but to follow her.

Walking in silence through the deserted building, you thought of possible conversation starters, and were stumped. As comfortable as you still felt around Agatha, it had been a long time since you’d been around her this frequently.

As if she could sense your hesitation, she gave you an inquisitive stare. “Stark tells me you’ll be gracing us with a performance this evening.”

“It’s just a little something,” you replied nonchalantly, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest at the reminder, opening the stage door for the conductor. “Anything to help the orchestra.”

Agatha smirked, her hand grazing your shoulder as she brushed past you. “How chivalrous.”

Clearing your throat, ignoring the rush of butterflies from her brief touch, you changed the subject, as this was one of the few times you had been alone with Agatha all week. “So how have things been with the MSO?”

“Oh you know,” Agatha hummed, switching on the stage lights, “I’ve overseen a few personnel changes, but nothing else, really.”

“Personnel changes?” You questioned, wondering why she was being so vague while trying to recall if Monica had mentioned anything to you.

Agatha raised her eyebrows, appearing genuinely curious. “You haven’t heard?”

Before you could ask what she meant, one of the staff members came backstage, informing you the class would be starting in ten minutes.

Agatha started to walk out, but when she noticed you hadn’t moved she cocked her head to the side. “You’re not going to make me endure this on my own, are you?”

A small smile graced your lips at her jest. “Promise me you’ll be nice, they’re just kids.”

“I have no issues with the children,” Agatha insisted. “Their parents, on the other hand…”

“Not a fan of the hovering parent?” You joked, joining her onstage, the bright lights shining down on you.

Agatha frowned, a dark look in her eyes as she mulled over your words. “Not quite, no.”

The conductor set off down the stairs without another word, taking a seat in the front row, carelessly setting her bag down with a loud thump.

During your time together Agatha never mentioned much about her childhood, and you were never brave enough to ask. You knew from a few Google searches that her mother had been a rather well known concert pianist, but that was about it. Agatha had always been guarded, and as much as you tried to peel back the many layers that she used as self defense, you hadn’t managed to get through them all.

Taking a seat next to her, you checked the time to find there were a few minutes until you began. The sound of Agatha rustling through her bag was mere background noise as you scrolled through your phone. It wasn’t until you felt something cold against your arm did you notice a reusable water bottle was now resting on the armrest of your seat.

“What’s this?”

“You’re going to end up passing out on stage from dehydration.” Agatha said disapprovingly, her thick black frame glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose as her head was tilted down, reading an updated copy of the Master Class schedule.

“I could have brought my own water,” you insisted, trying to ignore how touched you were by the thoughtful gesture.

The conductor folded the piece of paper she had been reading, adjusting her glasses as she gave you a pointed look. “I’ve watched you prance around like a parched baby deer all week, the last thing I need is for you to fall and break your violin.”

“Just my violin?”

Agatha pursed her lips, blue eyes twinkling as she evaded your question. “A simple thank you would suffice, dear.”

The weight of her gaze was nearly too much for you to bear, for you found it to be far more exposing than the brightest of stage lights, but you were unable to look away. Agatha’s fingers grasped the bottle, extending her arm until it was hovering over your legs.

The conductor looked at you expectantly, and you had never been one to deny her anything.

Lifting your hand, you accepted the bottle, fingers crossing hers as you held it in your palm.

“Thank you, Maestra,” you said, watching Agatha’s eyes drift to your intertwined fingers, neither of you moving from the contact.

Agatha lowly hummed, untangling her fingers from yours as her hand came to rest on your upper thigh. Neither of you spoke, but for once the silence felt less suffocating, allowing you to reminisce on a time where this had been normal. Closing your eyes, you wished you could stay this way forever.

The sound of voices outside the hall grew in volume, zapping you back to reality. Clearing her throat, Agatha gave your leg a gentle squeeze before letting go, and you poorly tried to hide your disappointment.

“Try to remember to drink that,” Agatha murmured as she stood up, and after a moment added, “I don’t want you to get hurt before the concert season begins.”

You weren’t sure why the confirmation that she still cared hit you as hard as it did, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face for the entire Master Class. Agatha kept true to her word, and was on her best behavior. You only remembered halfway through the class how good she was with children, as the faint memory of the school concert day she once planned rang through clear as day.

She was still Agatha, of course. Her sarcasm and quick witted sense of humor could never be diminished, but she softened ever so slightly when offering advice after each musician performed. Her constructive criticism actually was constructive, and you were reminded how gifted of a teacher she was.

You did have to reign her in when a few overzealous parents insisted on voicing their own opinions, but overall you were pleased with the turnout.

It was surreal in a way, being in this new position. When you were younger your dream was to be a professional violinist, and it often felt as if that was the only thing you had ever been fully certain of. But you had been having a hard time finding your own way; to be able to fully accept that you had earned this. To believe that you were worthy. Looking at someone as astonishingly accomplished as Agatha Harkness, you couldn’t help but feel like a fraud.

It felt like a facade the majority of the time, your violin acting as your mask on stage, effectively shielding all of your doubts to the outside world. But it was difficult to present that version of yourself when you were standing next to Agatha, for you found yourself falling back in time to when you were nothing more than her assistant. Naturally leading you to wonder if the conductor still saw you in that imbalanced light, or if she could ever view you as her equal.

Once the last of the students left you lingered onstage, discreetly watching Agatha. The conductor was leaning against the grand piano, one hand perched on the edge while she scrolled through her phone.

“I can feel you staring,” Agatha called out, not looking up from whatever she was doing.

“I’m not staring,” you lied, clearing your throat as you took a step towards her. “Is everything alright?”

“Hm?” Agatha asked, finally glancing up at you. When you motioned to her phone, she arched an eyebrow. “Jealous I’m not giving you all of my attention?”

Spluttering, you shot her an indignant glare. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Placing her phone on the piano, the conductor crossed her arms across her chest, smirking as she took a small step forward, invading all of your senses. “If you must know, I was going over tonight’s performance with the concertmaster, she had a few questions.”

It was then that you recalled last week’s symphony rehearsal, where you witnessed what you felt had been rather visible tension between Agatha and the concertmaster, Hela. Your stomach began twisting in uncomfortable knots at the memory, while you were forced to consider why the thought of Agatha being with someone else made you feel sick.

“Hela, right?” You asked, careful to keep any trace of the growing pit of anxiety from your tone.

“That’s right,” Agatha confirmed, an inscrutable expression on her face as she regarded you. “I’ve known her for quite some time. Her brother is the new CFO of the symphony.”

All thoughts of Hela were pushed to the back of your mind. Your eyes widened, unable to contain your surprise. “What? Where’s Hayward?”

“In prison,” Agatha replied casually. “Well, I'll take that back. He’s supposed to be in prison, but I’m sure he was able to get a reduced sentence. The woes of the wealthy white man.”

“Prison?”

“For fraud and embezzlement of all things,” Agatha shared conspiratorially, leaning in closer as she whispered, “I must say, it was quite a scandal. Still a bit of a mystery as to who tipped off the feds.”

The smug expression on her face was a dead giveaway, as Agatha had never been subtle.

The sigh left your mouth before you could stop it, lips curling downwards to form a frown. “Tell me you didn’t…”

“That I didn’t do what, dear? Uphold my duty to rid my orchestra of a bloodsucking leech?” Agatha countered, pacing around as she clasped her hands behind her back.

“But prison, Agatha? Really?”

The stage creaked with every step the conductor took, finally stopping when she stood directly behind you.

“If I remember correctly you were never fond of him either,” Agatha pointed out, her breath hot against your ear as you let out an involuntary shiver from the pleasurable sensation.

“I wasn’t,” you admitted truthfully, as Hayward had been a major thorn in both your and Agatha’s sides throughout the entirety of your time with the MSO.

“Besides, I didn’t make him do anything. He was guilty,” Agatha said honestly, and although you weren’t looking at her you knew she was telling you the truth. Embellishments and dramatics aside, she had never lied to you. “I merely sped up the process of justice being served.”

Allowing the conductor’s words to wash over you, there was a pause as you decided to change the subject. “So, Hela’s brother?”

“He’s business oriented like Hayward, but far more cunning. A lot more clever, as well. He’s also not actively attempting to sabotage me, so I’ve had more free time,” Agatha explained, and you then remembered what Monica had mentioned of Agatha being absent a lot this past season.

“I’m sure you’ve been awfully bored,” you replied, your brain fixating on Hela and if there was any correlation between her absences and a potential relationship with the concertmaster.

“I’ve found…ways to keep myself busy,” Agatha delicately responded, taking a small step back.

Turning around, you gave her a curious glance. “Really? Have you been doing anything interesting?”

“This and that,” Agatha vaguely offered, folding her hands across her chest.

Deciding to test your luck, you took a step towards her. “I’m sure you’ve been doing something worth mentioning. Any traveling?”

Narrowing her eyes, Agatha scanned yours, deep blue orbs searching for something unknown as she appeared to contemplate your question. “Can't say I’ve had time for any vacations while I’m running an orchestra.”

“Of course,” you agreed, pondering over Agatha’s words while coming to the realization that either Monica misspoke or Agatha, for the first time, had potentially lied to you. But why?

Taking your silence as an opportunity to strike, Agatha raised her right hand, index finger contemplatively tapping against her cheek as she observed you. “Quite nosey today, aren’t we?”

“I think a good musician should always try to be curious,” you weakly said, wondering why Agatha was being so secretive.

The conductor snorted, “I almost forgot how meddlesome violinists are as a species.”

Ignoring the dig, you approached her for a final time. There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but you weren’t sure where to begin as the words kept getting caught in your throat.

“I know it’s been a long time,” you started to say, as this was the first time you had addressed the elephant in the room. “But I’d like to believe that after everything we’re friends, right?”

The words burned your tongue, but you ignored the unpleasant feeling. You and Agatha were friends, sort of, right?

Agatha stiffened at your words, and for a moment you allowed yourself to believe you saw a flicker of displeasure cross her features. But, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. An uneasy silence fell between you, and even though Agatha was mere steps away it felt as though an ocean separated you.

“Yes, dear,” Agatha finally answered, voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’re friends.”

The sound of your phone dinging caught your attention, as you gave Agatha an apologetic smile. “I should probably check that. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Seven o’clock sharp,” Agatha reminded you as she traipsed across the stage, pulling her phone back out. “Don’t be late.”

The best way to prepare the day of a performance was to get plenty of rest and stay hydrated. There typically wasn’t enough time to make any major changes to whatever piece you were performing, so hours of practicing was both unnecessary and a waste of energy. Lacking something to do with your hands, you instead spent the hours leading up to the gala in a fretful state. This had been occurring more frequently with each new performance you took on. It didn’t matter the size of nature of the event, the self-doubt you normally could keep at bay had fully taken over.

While your violin had once been your safe haven, an escape from reality, it was now slowly turning into an anxiety fueled nightmare. Lately nothing you did felt right. Every bow change was jerky, each shift of your fingers ending flat. Your vibrato was too fast, but then too slow. Nothing was good enough, and the more you attempted to fix it the worse it became.

Burdened as you were, how you ended up at the gala on time was a mystery, but you skillfully avoided the majority of the orchestra’s donors as you slipped backstage. Tony had managed to deliver everything he promised; a beautifully decorated ballroom with a room full of wealthy donors who had come to be entertained for an evening.

Part of that entertainment including you, your brain reminded you, as you watched the ending of the orchestra’s performance of Danzón No, 2, Agatha’s hands cutting them off with a dramatic flourish of her baton. The room erupted in thunderous applause, and you forced yourself to look away as Agatha shook Hela’s hand before she exited the stage.

Greeting a few members of the orchestra who passed you, a cold sweat dripped down your back as you listened to Tony ramble on stage about reaching record high donations and how the night wasn’t over yet. You had to physically stop yourself from hearing his speech on the “treat” the audience was in for with the last performance; your performance. It didn’t feel right, receiving this praise, not when you could barely make it through the relatively easy piece of music you had selected for this evening.

“You’re on as soon as Tony is done,” Pepper reminded you as she walked past with her tablet, most likely tracking the incoming donations.

The rushing sound of blood filled your ears as you stiffened, hands feeling clammy as you struggled to hold onto your violin. While you were no stranger to pre-performance jitters, this was one of the worst experiences you had with it yet, the room beginning to spin as you closed your eyes.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t go on with the way you had been sounding all day.

Maybe you could pretend to faint, or be ill. The latter wouldn’t be too much of a lie with the way your stomach was churning at the mere thought of walking out on that stage.

There was a light touch on your shoulder, and you thought you heard someone saying something but it was hard to hear anything over your heart pounding in your chest.

“Darling?”

Agatha’s voice managed to cut through, and you felt her hand on your shoulder rub circles as you managed to take a shaky breath, slowly opening your eyes.

The conductor was hovering over you, concern etched on her face. You hadn’t felt her grab your violin and bow, but both were safely stashed on a table to your right. The room was far too bright, and your body far too hot as you squirmed.

“Are you alright?” Agatha asked quietly. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

You briefly noticed the backstage area was mostly cleared, a stark contrast to the crowded flow of musicians that were there mere seconds ago, but you paid that no mind.

“I know I need to go out there, but I don’t think I can,” you said, trying your best to breathe but the rapid tightening of your chest making it difficult to form complete sentences.

Narrowing her eyes, Agatha stepped away for a moment, grabbing a nervous looking stagehand and saying something incoherent to them before they hurried off. The conductor was back at your side, now holding a bottle of water as she opened it, handing it to you.

“Drink,” she gently urged you, and upon noticing your reluctance she sighed. “I know you don’t want to, but drink.”

Taking a small sip, you struggled to swallow, the cold liquid acting as a shock to your system.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, rubbing your back for a moment before pulling away. “Now, I need you to listen to me. Do you trust me?”

Your heart felt like it was about to give out, and the room was moving at such a rapid pace you had difficulty standing. There was almost nothing you were certain of, but the one thing that you had never truly doubted was your faith in Agatha.

You barely recognized the sound of your voice as you let out a meek yes.

“Stark is out there stalling,” Agatha explained, and it appeared she was actively refraining from rolling her eyes. “But he can’t stay out there forever, otherwise we might start to lose the money we’ve already raised.”

The tightness in your chest was gradually relenting, and you were able to breathe with more ease. “I’ll be fine to perform, I just need a minute.”

The conductor rolled her eyes at your comment. “A heroic offer, dear, but you’re not going out there alone. I’m going to perform with you. That little stagehand ran off to grab the sheet music. I’ve performed Gluck before, but it’s been a while.”

That managed to get your attention, and you stared at her in shock. Agatha almost always refused to perform the piano, and had only played for you once. Despite being considered one of the most gifted pianists of her generation, the conductor had not performed publicly in decades.

“You’re going to perform with me?”

Rolling her eyes again, the conductor gave you shoulder another squeeze. “You have heard of a duet before, haven’t you?”

The room stopped spinning, and you were able to open your mouth without feeling the need to vomit. Managing to give her a weak smile, the conductor nodded, handing you back your violin. The nerves were still there, but now Agatha was standing beside you as she instructed the same stagehand on how she wanted the piano positioned and you no longer felt like you were drowning.

Tony must have received the okay from Pepper to wrap up as he transitioned out of his long speech.

“Now, I know I’ve promised all of you a performance from our current Artist in Residence, but this is a special evening, isn’t it? I’m thrilled to announce she will be joined by the incredible, incomparable, Agatha Harkness. The Maestra will be putting down her baton to give all of you her first public piano performance in years.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched at that, but when she found you staring she gave you a reassuring nod.

There was more applause, and Tony jubilantly exited the stage, wishing you both good luck as he went to converse with Pepper.

“Just focus on me,” Agatha whispered in your ear before you walked out together, the applause deafening as she strolled over to the piano, taking a seat as she stretched her fingers out over the keys.

Positioning yourself to where you could see her in your line of vision, you planted your feet firmly on the ground. Raising your violin, you set your bow on the string, trying to ignore the unsteady feeling threatening to rise yet again.

Agatha’s finger pressed down on one of the keys, playing an A to allow you to tune your violin. Rolling your bow, you checked each string until you were satisfied, giving Agatha a discreet nod that you were ready to begin.

Locking eyes with Agatha, you raised your violin on an upbeat to cue her in. The second her fingers hit the keys, you were able to pretend there was no one else there, only the two of you. Moving through each measure, you focused on the notes you had memorized, and for the first time today it didn’t feel overwhelming. Your vibrato rang through with every note, and the sound didn’t make you want to throw your violin in a woodchipper.

Agatha was a sight to behold, hair carelessly thrown over her shoulders, sitting on the edge of the bench as she slightly slouched over, fingers dancing across the keys. Although she claimed she needed the music, you couldn’t help but notice she had barely glanced at it once, her focus on you. There was something so magical about watching her at the piano, even the simplest chord she played produced the most exquisite sound.

Melodie was a piece originally from the opera Orfeo ed Euridice. It had later been transcribed by Fritz Kreisler for piano and violin. It was a dance between the two instruments, with the violin line singing over the piano accompaniment. It was both beautiful and heartbreaking, and was a rather accurate representation of your emotional state as of late.

The hesitation you had been feeling now gone as you allowed yourself to relax, focusing on growing every phrase as you and Agatha played off each other. It was funny, you had never rehearsed this with the conductor, but you played perfectly in sync. Every breath you let out Agatha inhaled as you watched her lithe fingers stretch across the instrument to form various chord progressions.

As you entered the final phrase, your fingers delicately shifted down the fingerboard as you hit your last note, slowing the speed of your bow, and extending your vibrato as Agatha leisurely played her final chords until the noise died away.

Holding still, you finally released, and as you lowered your violin there was tumultuous applause from the crowd, but all you noticed was Agatha looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

The moment was over all too soon as Tony came back on stage, insisting you and Agatha receive a standing ovation as he gleefully announced that tonight’s gala produced an all time high number of donations. Agatha rolled her eyes discreetly at you, but you noticed how pleased she appeared.

You were swarmed by enthusiastic donors, and Agatha wasn’t faring much better. The conductor made sure you were able to put your violin away before Pepper had swooped in, insisting you take pictures.

Agatha sought you out long after the crowd dwindled, a glass of wine in each of her hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The conductor asked, offering you one of the glasses.

Quietly thanking her, you accepted the wine, taking a small sip, the alcohol swirling around your tongue and you turned to her in surprise as you swallowed. “Pinot Noir?”

“Your favorite, if I recall correctly,” Agatha politely remarked.

“That’s right,” you confirmed, taking another small sip before lowering your glass. “Thank you, for earlier. I’m sure you’re tired of saving me.”

Agatha’s lips curled downwards, her eyebrows creasing as she gave you an unreadable expression, as if she hadn’t witnessed your earlier anxiety attack. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t think I could have gone out there on my own,” you admitted, the truth a bitter embarrassment. “I’ve been having trouble with my confidence lately.” You motioned to the now empty space and stage. “With all of this, it's just getting worse.”

Nervously biting your lip, you half expected for Agatha to crack an off-hand, witty comment on how obvious that was given your backstage freak out, but the conductor set her wine glass down, giving you her full attention.

“Go on.”

“I…”

Pausing, you came to the stark realization you had never shared this with anyone out of fear of being judged. But then you looked at Agatha, her piercing blue eyes boring into yours, and your fears melted away.

“I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time,” you confessed, fidgeting with your hands as you stared at your feet. “This is all I ever wanted, but now that I’ve made it, I don’t know if I’m cut out for all of this…I don’t…”

“You feel like you don’t belong?” Agatha guessed, and upon your small nod she added, “You obsess over every miniscule detail of each performance, and it doesn’t matter how many people say it was good, it feels like it wasn’t great. Right?”

You felt your blood run cold, as the conductor managed to hit the bullseye of your recent anxieties. Blinking back the tears that had been threatening to escape, you took a deep breath before looking back up to find her pointedly staring at the ground.

“How do you know that?” You asked softly, surprise evident in your tone, because Agatha was the most confident person you had ever met.

“Perfectionism is practically conditioned into us from the day we begin learning music,” Agatha reflected, still not meeting your gaze. “You know, my mother was a rather successful pianist.”

When you refrained from commenting, because you did know that, Agatha continued. “She’s the reason I started playing the piano. Sometimes I think she only had a daughter not because she wanted a child, but because she wanted to mold another version of herself. Nothing that I wanted ever mattered, it was always about her.”

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, because you couldn’t imagine having a parent like that, but the conductor waved off your apology, clearing her throat.

“Don’t be. My mother was a fool, and she remained one for the rest of her life,” Agatha said, without a trace of sorrow in her voice. “My introduction to music was one filled with fear. I had been taught to never be satisfied with myself, because I could have been better. I wasted a large portion of my childhood seeking her approval, wanting for her to be proud of me. But I eventually learned that it’s impossible to win when you’re being set up for failure.”

This was the most vulnerable Agatha had ever allowed herself to be with you, and you nervously folded your hands across your chest.

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I moved across the country when I turned eighteen, and never saw her again until she was being put in the ground,” Agatha reminisced, finally daring to look up at you. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes over the course of my career, but one thing I’ll never regret is embracing fear.”

“Embracing fear?” You repeated, unsure of where she was going.

“Those thoughts you’ve been having,” Agatha prompted, her attention focused solely on you, “they don’t go away. They’ll most likely just get worse. So, you can either succumb to it, and let the fear of failure win, or you can embrace it and allow yourself the ability to recognize that greatness doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from having the courage to try at all.”

You had unconsciously shifted closer to the conductor as she spoke, until your shoulders were nearly touching as you both leaned against the edge of the stage.

“Has that helped you?”

“As much as it can. Music is unique, as is every musician,” Agatha thoughtfully replied.

The gears in your brain turned, thinking back on the multiple instances where Agatha had made a member of the MSO cry.

“And do you use that advice when working with your own orchestra?”

“Funny,” Agatha deadpanned, grabbing her wine glass by the stem to take a sip before setting it back down. “There’s a difference between pushing yourself too hard versus settling for mediocrity.”

“I think that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” You pointed out. “They’re all world class musicians. I think sometimes you’re too hard on them.”

“They are,” Agatha confirmed, running a hand through her hair as you fixated in on her messy dark brown curls. “But some of them have become lazy. They don’t feel the need to improve at all, and that’s an insult to the craft. It’s my job as their conductor to make them want to perform at their very best.”

You knew Agatha meant well, and deep down you were sure the orchestra did as well.

“That makes sense, thank you.”

“For what it’s worth, I thought you were extraordinary this evening,” Agatha praised you, her hand coming to rest on top of yours. “You’ve always been extraordinary.”

The physical contact was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Relaxing under her touch, you felt your cheeks grow warm from the compliment. “Thank you, Agatha.”

Your glass of wine abandoned on the stage behind you, you allowed yourself the opportunity to enjoy this intimate exchange with the woman who had been haunting your memory for the past five years. Agatha, for her part, appeared to be comfortable as well, as her hand remained atop yours, unmoving from where she stood next to you.

“And for the record, Hela and I are friends,” Agatha murmured, grabbing your attention once more. Sensing your surprise that she picked up on what you had been hinting around, she rolled her eyes. “You’re a lot of things, darling, but you’ve never been subtle.”

Her words sounded eerily similar to what you had asked her earlier, but you had made it this far and after years of what if’s and errors of miscommunication, you had grown weary of the unknown.

“Friends….like how you and I are friends?” You quietly questioned, the implications of what you meant appeared to be obvious enough from the way Agatha gave you an amused smirk.

“No, dear,” Agatha murmured, raising her hand to gently stroke your cheek, looking at you in ways you had only been able to dream of. “Not like how you and I are friends.”

Tangling her fingers in your hair, Agatha chuckled at the involuntary shiver you let out as she leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. She was so close, and any self control you had mustered was slowly slipping. Your breathing turned shallow, eyes locked on her perfectly plump red lips.

There were so many things you wanted to say, but your brain short circuited as the conductor parted her lips, slowly moving towards yours. You could smell the wine on her breath, as you vividly pictured tasting it off her tongue. Using her free hand, Agatha tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at her, and you were lost gazing into her hazy blue eyes.

Before you could fully rationalize what you were doing, you leaned in, closing your eyes as your lips were about to meet. From the back of your mind, you thought you heard Agatha’s breath hitch as your heart raced from the anticipation.

A loud slam of a door caused you to break apart. Agatha ran a hand through her messy locks, breathing heavily and you felt your cheeks grow hot as she gave your hand a brief squeeze before stepping away from the stage, straightening her suit jacket.

A man came stumbling into the room before you could ask what almost just happened, holding what appeared to be a small cage. He looked familiar, did you know him from somewhere?

The man, who seemed to be oblivious to what he just walked into, spotted Agatha and began to nervously ramble.

“Maestra, I’m so sorry. The flight got delayed, and apparently you can’t only buy a first class ticket for an animal, so I was able to get myself one too. I tried to use my card to pay for it, but it didn’t go through, so I put it on yours. Then I tried to call you, but my phone stopped working. I tried to check into the hotel, but I realized I left my wallet at the airport. I remember you said you’d be here so I thought I’d come and-”

Holding up a hand to silence him, Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. “It’s fine, Lang. Please stop, your voice is giving me a migraine.”

The man kept going, shuffling around uncomfortably. “Well I can pay you back for the ticket but with my current salary it will probably take me around…a year, maybe?”

Agatha waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head. “I said it’s fine, Lang. Consider that your holiday bonus.”

The conductor sauntered over to the man, reaching her hands out to grab the cage from him. Gently setting it down on a nearby table, she opened it, pulling out a rabbit. She scratched his ears as held him, annoyance gone as she gave you a small smile.

“Do you remember Scratchy, dear?”

Of course you did, you thought to yourself as Agatha brought Scratchy over to you, the hardened look in her eyes softening as you gave him a few pets. You discreetly nodded towards the man who was pacing the room, hands in his pockets, and Agatha sighed, her irritation appearing to return as she glanced back over at the man.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot. This is my assistant, Scott. He’ll be joining me for the rest of the summer.”

Scott gave you a quick wave and you couldn’t hide your surprise. This was Agatha’s assistant? He certainly wasn’t what you had pictured.

“Great,” you said, feigning enthusiasm, trying to pay attention to the conversation between Agatha and Scott, as the man told a rather strange story of his travel day.

The more he talked the more confused you were as to how Agatha hadn’t managed to fire him yet.

But, all you could really do was wonder what would have happened if Scott hadn’t interrupted, and what this meant for the rest of the summer; as opening night was quickly approaching. Your heart fluttered, as you realized the more time you spent with Agatha, the more you secretly wished you had never said goodbye to her all those years ago.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness fanfiction

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