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ramonathinks · 9 months ago

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matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

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kroosluvr · 7 months ago

Text

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

#shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #persona 5 royal #cele draws #cele comics #last comic for 2 weeks ish probably bc ill be away frm my usual setup for a while:O will still be drawing tho!!!#long winter #takuto maruki

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emberwhite · 1 year ago

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I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

#books #reading #childrens books #lgbtq #lgbtqia #autism #transgender #furry #therian #art #deer #queer #artists on tumblr #creativity #illustration

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w2mini · 1 month ago

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RED MEANS TAKEN DUMMY! atsumu x reader

-happy valentines 𓂃۶ৎ warnings: reader is reserved, swearings, black cat x golden retriever (I'm never getting tired of this trope for atsumu) fluff only

For Atsumu, he's always been drawn to you—the quiet, pretty muse from unfortunately another class who never seemed to fall for his popular charm. And what's worst is that you weren't even doing anything to catch his attention. It was just a random Tuesday when you were introduced as a new student in Inarizaki, then went on with your day as a normal student like everyone would—and that?

That drove him crazy.

It was probably your reserved nature that felt refreshing to him since he's used to having a crowd of admirers around him. You weren't trying to stand out, be loud—you just always seemed like you had your own little world to be content with.

And he desperately wants to be a part of your life. But let's be real—he's probably not the type to immediately accept his feelings about you because this is genuinely the first time he's falling for someone, so with some ups and downs, denial, and winning a war with his own feelings—yep, he wanted you BAD.

So little by little, he would hang out with you during breaks, keep you company, and slowly become a part of your inner circle—you grew fond of him in your own quiet way. So with Valentines coming up, Atsumu decides it would be the perfect time to confess his undying love for you.

But of course this is an Inarizaki centered story, and it's not one without chaos.

"Yo, have you guys seen the new post from the student council?" The volleyball club were currently in the gym practicing as usual every after school times. Akagi, who was simply scrolling at his phone during break ends up with an interesting post from their student council's social media page regarding the event tomorrow. "The color-coded shirts? still haven't decided what I'm gonna wear to be honest." Aran replied, approaching Akagi to look at his phone, checking what each color meant. To celebrate Valentines, the student council announces a color-coded Valentine's event wherein students wear shirts that indicate their relationship status: Red meant taken, White meant single, Pink means friend-zoned, Black meant heartbroken, etc. Atsumu, who was already plotting his confession, grinned to himself. White it is, because, obviously, he's saving himself for you. So could you just imagine on a Valentines day morning, he's all excited walking at the school, ready to show off in front of you, and sees you in the hallway—

... wearing a red top.

aka TAKEN.

his soul shatters at the sight.

I—what—When—WHO???? Osamu and Suna who was with him—seeing the devastated face on Atsumu bursts into laughter.

He turned to Osamu, aggressively whispering "WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN???”

"She's taken? tough luck Miya." Suna says in between giggles.

You on the other hand who was just simply talking to a friend—doesn’t recognize the chaos happening behind you for wearing a red top.

“You never told me you were in a relationship?” Your friend offhandedly asks, but they were also internally panicking because they know about Atsumu’s plan.

You tilted your head in confusion, “huh? but I dont?”

“what? it’s red though.” your friend points at your top.

“so? don’t people wear red for valentines?”

You friend’s expression drops.

“[name] you dumbass.”

—

Atsumu spent the whole day sulking, even during practice. He messed up the easiest receives, screwed up his sets, and almost hit Suna on the head with his serve.

that damn red top, he’s never been this furious over a color, and what’s worst is that you looked good with that top too!

How come he had already lost without starting?

And how come he never knew you were already in a relationship? You never gave hints or said anything about being in a relationship—

“If I were you, I would’ve confessed already rather than sulking like that.” easier said than done Aran.

“She was wearing red, RED!” Atsumu dramatically exclaims as he drowns on his own sorrows.

“What did red mean again?” Ginjima asks.

“Taken.” Suna replied bluntly, making Atsumu hiss at the word.

“Never stood a chance huh?” Osamu grinned mockingly.

“SHUT YER TRAP SAMU.”

Kita could only facepalm at the situation, but he’s rather amused since this is the first time he’s seen Atsumu like this, “You know Atsumu, have you ever thought that maybe she just wore the color and discarding the meaning?”

Atsumu’s ears perked up, then Ginjima suddenly had a lightbulb over his head, “Oh yeahhh, it could mean like that too, there were a bunch of guys wearing black for fun earlier despite not being in a relationship.”

“Maybe try asking her about it then?” Akagi suggested.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Actually scrap that, it would.

That is until knocking was heard on the doors of the gym.

The team looks over to the source of the sound then sees—

You… with a small box.

“Uhm, pardon me but can I call for Atsumu?” You asked, peeking over to the doors.

Atsumu immediately RAN and was suddenly infront of you, looking… nervous?

“Did ya’ uh, need anything?” he asks, his voice crackling a little.

Then, you hold out the gift to him. “For you.”

Atsumu froze.

“Huh…?”

“Thanks for always keeping me company,” you say softly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to approach.”

Atsumu finally finds his voice. “Wait—so yer not datin’ anyone?”

You blink. “No, why?”

His brain short circuited. He points at your top, “But—THAT’S RED.”

“So?”

That’s when he realizes.

You didn’t know shit about the color-coded event.

His entire face lights up, and lets out the most dramatic sigh of relief. “Wearing red means taken stupid.” He says, flicking your forehead.

It was your turn to get struck by realization now.

No wonder everyone kept asking if you were in a relationship, and no WONDER everyone was wearing different colors for valentines.

Oh you feel fucking stupid.

You then immediately took your phone out, opening an app then searching for your school’s official account page.

You face drops seeing the png file on the very first post that appeared, no wonder why your friend had asked that odd question.

“I—didn’t know…” you muttered, embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding.

Atsumu only chuckled in response, laughing at your misery. “Yer’ killin me ya know that? I though I lost my chance before I even tried.”

You perked up. “You were trying?”

“Obviously.” He grinned.

You smiled warmly, feeling funny about the situation. “Try harder then.”

Atsumu had the brightest grin on his face, he ruffled your hair then gently took the gift from your hands. “Oh I definitely will.”

“P-D-A ALERT” Osamu suddenly shouted from the gym, surprising you and pissing off Atsumu.

“MIND YER OWN BUSINESS!”

WOOOO KINDA SHORT IM SO SORRY GUYS but happy valentines!! and of course I had to celebrate it by writing my all time favorite character😻 hope you guys enjoyed HDJHFODK

💐 >> bouquets for those who don’t feel special enough on this special day <33

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theballadofharkness · 21 days ago

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And the Award goes to… (Part 1/3)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: Your relationship with famous and feared director Agatha Harkness has been largely Hollywood’s best kept secret until TMZ call for comment about some pictures the paparazzi took of the two of you. Forever one to control the narrative, Agatha decides to get ahead of the story and debut Hollywood’s new starlet on her arm at The Emmy’s red carpet. And suddenly, you’re not thinking about winning Best Actress anymore.

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Eventual smut warning, depiction of an anxiety attack but nothing too graphic x

A/N: Happy Oscar’s day! Thought I’d start posting the director!Agatha series I started a while ago, so far it’s looking like a 3 parter with lots of smut to come… 😉💜🪻

The soft hum of the summer day was a distant murmur against the cool, almost clinical quiet of Agatha Harkness’s office. Towering windows framed the view of her sprawling Hidden Hills estate, where the greenery of her garden blurred into the horizon. The room itself was a symphony of polished wood and sharp lines, a reflection of the woman who commanded it. Agatha sat at the head of her sleek desk, poised in her throne-like chair, legs crossed, a picture of cold, unyielding power. The polished gleam of her Oscar trophies behind her only added to the intimidating aura she exuded.

Agatha Harkness wasn’t just any director- she was a titan of the industry, one whose mere presence in a room made everything else fade into insignificance. Agatha had built an empire, crafting award-winning films, shaping careers, and rewriting the rules of Hollywood. In her world, there was no room for mistakes.

Her fingers tapped steadily against the surface of her desk as her publicist and assistants spoke over Zoom, each trying to carve out space to make their suggestions known. Agatha didn’t need to be looking at the screen to know what was happening- she could tell by the shift in tone who was speaking, who was fighting to get her attention. But it didn’t matter. She was in control.

"Yes, I am aware of the new time for the upcoming pitch meeting," she said, cutting across one assistant with the calm, icy precision she was known for. "The studio heads will not dictate the terms of this contract. We finalize my terms first. Then we talk numbers."

She jotted something down in the margin of the script she was reviewing, her voice never faltering as the conversation swirled around her. But, despite the steady stream of chatter, her gaze had already wandered, pulled by something more distracting than any of the issues being discussed.

Out the window, beyond the manicured lawn and infinity pool, you lay on a sunbed by the pool. Your white bikini, a stark contrast against the deep blue water, caught the light in a way that made her chest tighten. It wasn’t the color that held her attention, though. It was the way you looked- effortlessly perfect, carefree, with your legs stretched out in the sun as you skimmed the pages of your book. You were completely immersed in it, your lips parted slightly as you read, lost to the world.

Agatha’s breath hitched as her eyes traced over you. There you were, her girl, so beautifully innocent and yet so completely hers. Her fingers tightened slightly around her pen as she continued to watch you for a moment longer than intended, eyes raking over your body as you flipped another page, the book likely some kind of twisted horror novel, something to match your sharp, dark beauty. You’d always had that aura: witchy, ethereal, haunting, the kind of woman that seemed to belong in a Tim Burton film. A perfect mix of innocence and darkness that made you impossible to forget.

Agatha let her gaze linger. She had thought that romance, at this stage in her life, was something she’d long left behind. She had no time for it, no room for anyone who wasn’t aligned with her work. But then you had come along, like a muse, your raw talent drawing her in the moment she saw you on set. You had that something, that spark that didn’t come along often. And despite herself, Agatha had fallen for it. Fallen for you. She watched you, day after day, growing closer, the lines between director and lover blurring until there was no going back. You were her forbidden, treasured secret.

But secrets seldom last forever.

"Agatha?" Her assistant’s voice broke through her reverie, sharp and insistent. Agatha blinked, snapping back to the conversation at hand. She’d almost forgotten she was in the middle of a meeting.

“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, voice clipped, as her eyes flickered to the screen. The moment was gone, and she quickly reasserted her authority. “Let’s stay focused, shall we? The award season tour starts in two days, and I want everything locked down before the cameras start rolling.”

But her attention drifted again. Just for a moment. Outside, you stretched languidly, arching your back as you shifted on the sunbed, completely unaware of the storm brewing just beyond the glass. There was something about the way the sun made your skin glow, the curve of your body just so, that made Agatha’s pulse quicken. How could someone so young, so beautiful, be so perfectly hers? The thought was interrupted when her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a name she had hoped she wouldn’t see so soon.

Her publicist. She stopped her assistant mid sentence, muting herself to answer immediately, eyes flicking to the message notification.

"Agatha, we need to talk. TMZ reached out for comment. They've got photos of you and Y/N. It’s not out yet, but they're about to drop them."

Her blood ran cold.

“What?” Agatha’s voice came out low, dangerous. “What do you mean, ‘photos of Y/N’? What kind of photos?”

There was a pause. Her publicist hesitated, but Agatha could hear the urgency in their voice when they responded. "They’ve got pictures of you and Y/N… kissing. In public. At a restaurant last week. They’re sitting on them for now, waiting for your comment before they release the photos."

Agatha’s grip tightened on her phone, her knuckles whitening. A flash of fury ignited inside her. How dare they, how dare they take what was hers and put it on display like this? She didn’t just control the narrative; she owned it. And no one, especially not a media outlet as tacky as TMZ, was going to take it from her.

"Give me an hour," Agatha barked at her team on the zoom call the second she unmuted herself, her voice regaining its familiar edge of command. “I have something to deal with.”

Her team fell silent. No one dared to protest.

Agatha cut the call abruptly with both her team and her publicist, her mind already whirring with plans. She had to take control of this, make it her story before it ever left her grasp.

The sharp click of Agatha’s heels echoed through the grand hallways of her Hidden Hills mansion as she moved with purpose, her mind a storm of emotions she refused to name. She needed to get to you. To hold you. Because of course, of course it had been that night. That moment. The one time she let herself slip, let her need for you override her carefully built control. The memory of it gripped her as she walked, threatening to pull her under.

~ One week ago. ~

The restaurant was tucked away in the hills, a place so exclusive that not even the most dedicated paparazzi could get past the ironclad security. Agatha had paid a small fortune to ensure their privacy tonight- not just because she could, but because she had to. No risks. No chance of exposure. Because tonight was your night.

You had been radiant from the moment she picked you up, your eyes bright with excitement, your silk black dress clinging to you in a way that made Agatha’s mouth run dry. The moment you slid into the car beside her, you were practically buzzing, all wide-eyed and glowing, because she was spoiling you tonight. And Agatha lived to spoil you.

The dinner had been exquisite, the kind of meal that melted on the tongue and lingered like a dream. She had watched you from across the candlelit table, the flickering light casting golden hues across your skin, the soft smile on your lips making something tighten in her chest. She didn’t know how she had lasted this long. How she had managed to keep her hands to herself all evening when all she wanted was to pull you into her lap and kiss the breath from your lungs. But she waited. Because there was something else first.

"Here," she murmured, sliding a small, unassuming box across the table.

Your eyes lit up as you picked it up, delicate fingers tracing the edges. "Agatha..."

"Open it," she instructed, leaning back in her chair, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

You lifted the lid, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then, you inhaled sharply. Inside, gleaming against the soft velvet, was a set of silver keys.

Your head snapped up to look at her, eyes wide, not wanting to misread what you thought was happening. "What are these?"

Agatha's smirk softened, her voice low but firm. "Move in with me, Y/N."

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you simply stared at her, eyes shining with tears threatening to fall. "You- you want me to move in with you? Really?"

"More than anything," Agatha admitted, watching as emotion flickered across your face, raw and beautiful.

You blinked rapidly, laughter bubbling up through your surprise. "Oh my god, Agatha," you whispered, voice trembling with something dangerously close to tears. "I-I don’t know what to say…"

"You could say yes," she teased, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over yours.

You let out a shaky breath, clutching the keys to your chest, like they were the most precious thing in the world. "Yes. Yes, fuck, yes."

Agatha felt something shift inside her- something deep, something that settled with a rare kind of certainty. But she wasn’t done.

"One more thing," she murmured, reaching for another, slightly larger box.

Your lips parted in surprise as you took it from her, already overwhelmed, already so utterly beautiful in your happiness that it made her ache.

When you lifted the lid, the breath left your body entirely. Inside, nestled in silk, was a sapphire and diamond necklace- deep blue stones that caught the candlelight like liquid midnight.

You looked up at her, stunned. "Agatha oh my god you shouldn't have…"

"You deserve beautiful things," she murmured, watching you carefully. "You deserve everything."

Your fingers trembled as you touched the necklace, your breath shaky, eyes darting between the gift and the woman who had given it to you. But then your expression changed, shifting from surprise to something deeper, something needier.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your voice suddenly smaller, more desperate. "Agatha..."

She frowned slightly. "What is it, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, teeth sinking into your lip. "Kiss me? Please?"

The words hit her like a force. Agatha stilled, her heart pounding. "Baby…"

"I know," you whispered, eyes pleading. "I know you want to wait until after the movie, until after everything settles. But I need you."

Agatha’s jaw tightened. She had been so careful. So calculated. She had kept her hands to herself even when it nearly killed her, even when you looked at her with those eyes, even when she ached to claim you properly. But when you were looking at her with those pleading eyes and pouring lips, your fingers clutched round the keys to the home you would soon share together, her resolve cracked.

"Come here," she commanded softly.

You were in her lap in seconds, your hands cupping her face, your body pressing against hers like you had been waiting for this. And then she kissed you. Deep. Possessive. Slow. A kiss that claimed you as her own. You whimpered against her lips, melting into her, fingers tangling in her hair, the silver keys still clutched between your fingers as if it were the only thing tethering you to reality. She didn’t know how long she kissed you, only that it was everything. Too much, not enough.

When she finally pulled back, you were breathless, your lips swollen, your eyes dark with something that sent a bolt of pride through her.

"Happy birthday, baby," she murmured, thumb stroking your cheek.

You only smiled, burying your face in her neck.

Neither of you saw the camera flash from across the street.

~ Back to Present Day. ~

Agatha’s stomach twisted as she stepped outside, the California sun beating down on her, and there you were, still stretched out on the sunbed, still glowing, still so perfectly hers. And she would not let anything take you from her.

There you were. Her pretty girl.

The sunlight was soft on your skin, illuminating every curve, every line of your body, making you look like something out of a dream. The white bikini only heightened the delicate, innocent beauty you exuded, and she couldn't help but feel that familiar rush of longing, mixed with the ever-present urge to protect you. To hold onto you forever.

Before she could say a word, you looked up, catching her eyes, your lips curving into a bright smile. You stood quickly, your arms already open, and Agatha couldn’t help but be swept up in the force of your embrace. You collided with her, your soft body pressing against hers, and for a heartbeat, everything else fell away.

"Hey," you whispered into her chest, your arms wrapping tightly around her neck. "Are you done? Are you all mine now for the day?"

Agatha’s breath hitched at your words. She could feel the beat of your heart beneath her, could feel the warmth of your body, and it took everything in her not to pull you impossibly close, kiss you, and forget about everything else. But reality was pressing on her- the photos, the press, the delicate web of privacy and control she had woven for so long being torn away from her.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to pull back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Y/N, listen.” Her voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it- a fear she hated feeling. "We need to talk."

You tilted your head in confusion, your arms still wrapped around her neck, eyes searching hers. “What’s going on, Aggie? What happened?” You trailed off, sensing the shift in her mood.

Agatha stepped back, putting a slight distance between the two of you, but her hands remained on your shoulders, her touch grounding you both in the tense moment. “There’s been a… situation,” she started, voice clipped as she tried to find the right words. “On your birthday…”

“What about my birthday?” You asked, furrowing your brows in confusions

"Pictures of us on your birthday have been sent out to my team by TMZ," Agatha explained, her jaw tight, her eyes avoiding yours for a moment. "They’ve got pictures of me kissing you. On my lap. They e reached out for comment before the story drops. There’s nothing I can do to make this go away."

You didn’t say anything at first. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the situation settling in. But then, you took a deep breath, lifting your chin, and when you spoke, your voice was firm, resolute.

“Aggie…” you whispered, your hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you wanted to wait until after the press cycle for the movie, keep the focus on the film and not your personal life. And I know you wanted to control the narrative, but…” You pressed your body closer to her, your lips brushing her ear as you whispered, “I’m gonna belong to you forever. Why don’t we just tell people now?”

Agatha froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she let herself feel it- the weight of your love, the way your heart was in her hands, how you were willing to go public, even though the whole world would see you both differently forever. But then the reality of the situation creeped back in to sour the moment.

"Y/N," Agatha said, her voice rough as she tried to gather control of herself again. "This isn’t just about us. It’s about everything. Our careers. The movie. The fallout if this goes public now."

You stepped back, hurt flashing across your face. “So… you still want to wait? You’re not ready?”

“I’m not ready for the world to rip us apart.” Her eyes softened, her voice trembling for a moment before she steadied herself. "I’m not ready to let them take you away from me, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard, your heart aching with the words that hung between you. “I’m yours, Agatha. They can’t take me away. Not now. Not ever.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, and for a heartbeat, everything stood still. Agatha’s eyes locked onto yours, and the tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a knife. She wanted to give you everything. To take you publicly and never let anyone question what was hers. But there were consequences.

And the clock was ticking.

The was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard, but in the heavy silence between you and Agatha, time seemed to stand still.

Without another word, you stepped away from her, reaching for her hand and tugging her toward the house. “Come on,” you said, voice low but determined. “This isn’t the kind of conversation to have while in a bikini.”

Agatha let out a sharp breath, her lips curling in a half-smile despite herself as she allowed you to pull her inside. She didn’t want to admit it, but that small touch of yours felt like a balm to her own restless heart. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted. The world outside felt like it had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in your bubble, surrounded by the familiar scent of her expensive perfume and the warmth of her embrace.

Before she could say anything, you closed the distance between you in a flash, cupping her face gently, pulling her in to kiss her like you hadn’t seen her in years. Your lips crashed against hers with an urgency neither of you had expected, your hands roaming to the back of her neck as you tangled yourself in her presence. Agatha responded instantly, her arms encircling you, pulling you impossibly closer, as if she could merge into your body and become part of you. Every inch of her skin burned with a desperate need, and her hands roamed over your exposed skin as if they were trying to memorize you, to feel every curve of your body pressed against hers. The kiss was deep, messy, raw- a collision of desire and frustration, the pent-up tension of months of secrecy finally being brought into the light. When you pulled back, breathless, she stayed just inches away, her forehead resting against yours as you both gasped for air.

"I’ll never stop loving you," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "You’re stuck with me forever, Agatha."

The words sent a jolt through her heart, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of them. The pure, unguarded honesty in your voice made her stomach flip. You weren’t just saying the words, you meant them. Her breath came out in a heavy sigh as she gazed into your eyes, feeling that familiar possessive pull- like a force of nature, she couldn’t escape it.

“Fuck it,” Agatha growled under her breath, her hands tightening on your waist as she pulled you closer again, her lips brushing over your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect baby.”

Her fingers gripped your chin gently, tilting your face up so she could look you in the eye, the power dynamic between the two of you clear. You could see it in her eyes- the decision had been made. Agatha leaned in, claiming your mouth once more with an intensity that left you breathless. When she finally pulled back, she was certain.

“This is mine,” she whispered, her voice almost possessive, her hand resting on your chest. “Hollywood’s darling is all mine.”

Her fingers traced your collarbone, her touch possessive yet loving, the world outside completely irrelevant now. “And no one’s going to take you from me,” she added firmly, a promise in her voice.

You felt her claim you in a way that went beyond mere words. There was no hesitation, no more secrecy. At that moment, Agatha owned the narrative and she wasn’t going to let anyone distort it.

Her eyes locked onto yours once more, filled with a dark promise. “The press will have their story, but this-” her gaze softened, the fierceness lingering but now wrapped in tenderness. “This is ours.”

You shivered slightly in Agatha’s arms, the coolness of the evening air creeping under your skin. Agatha felt it almost immediately, her sharp eyes noticing the subtle tremble of your body. Her chest tightened with concern, though it quickly melted into that all-knowing, possessive need to take care of you.

“Cold, baby?” Agatha murmured, her voice soft, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled you closer, the warmth of her body instantly surrounding you.

You nodded, snuggling into her chest, too comfortable in her arms to care about the chill.

“Stay right there, sweetheart,” she said, already stepping back. Her strong hands went to her downstairs closet, quickly retrieving one of her oversized shirts. It was soft, the familiar scent of her perfume filling your senses as she slid it over your shoulders, the hem falling just below your thighs. She fastened the top button for you, the movement tender but purposeful, and when she stepped back, her eyes raked over you, making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

You tried to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks, your stomach fluttering under the intensity of her gaze. But Agatha didn’t let you shrink away. She smiled, that signature smirk of hers that made your heart race. “You look even better in my clothes than I do,” she murmured softly, her lips brushing your temple as she held you close. "All better?"

You smiled up at her, your heart swelling with that sweet rush of adoration. “Thank you, Aggie.”

Agatha’s gaze softened, her eyes darkening with something deeper, possessive, but still full of love. She gently cupped your face, her thumb tracing over your lips, before she whispered, “Come on, baby. We’ve got business to take care of.”

Agatha’s office was immaculate, a sanctuary of power, wealth, and subtle luxury. The only sign of life was you, sitting on her lap as she typed furiously on her laptop. A tension hung in the air, and Agatha could feel it in her bones, the fear of the press getting their claws into her life, but also, the raw desire to claim you fully. To make the world see what was hers.

Sharon’s face popped up on the screen, smiling softly at the sight of you curled into Agatha’s chest. But Agatha wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, and Sharon didn’t waste any time.

“Alright, Agatha. They’re not out yet, but TMZ is asking for a comment. They want to know where the two of you stand- if the rumors are true,” Sharon began, her tone crisp, the weight of the situation clear in her voice.

Agatha clenched her jaw and turned her gaze to you, holding you in her arms. Your heart raced at the thought of the public finding out, but there was something thrilling about it too- the idea of finally being with her openly, without having to sneak around. You still couldn’t shake the excitement, though. Everything about your life, your relationship with Agatha, had been secret. The thought of the press getting involved- it felt like your bubble would pop, but you weren’t scared.

“Options,” Agatha said simply, her voice steady.

Sharon began rattling off the choices one by one. “Well, we could deny everything outright—call it a misunderstanding, say the photos were staged, that you two are just friends. It would buy us some time, but it wouldn’t stop the press from digging further.”

Agatha gave a small grunt of frustration but didn’t interrupt. You could tell she hated the idea of lying, of pretending you weren’t what you were to each other.

“We could also sue the publications for invasion of privacy,” Sharon continued, “but that could lead to a public court battle. It might make you look guilty, or like you have something to hide. It could turn ugly.”

You shifted slightly, glancing up at Agatha. Her hand moved to your waist, rubbing soothing circles on your skin. You could feel her body tense, fighting to remain calm. But Agatha didn’t need to respond to Sharon’s words. You knew her well enough to know what she wanted: control.

“We could just say nothing,” Sharon added with a small shrug, “Go silent. Let them chase us for a while, refusing to confirm or deny anything. Keep it in limbo while you finish up with the movie press tour.”

Agatha’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “And completely derail the trajectory of the media coverage on our film?” she asked, her voice low but dangerous. “What’s next?”

Sharon looked a little unsure, biting her lip, before continuing. “We could also release a statement confirming that the two of you are in a relationship, but we’d also have to ask for privacy. A standard thing. No real details, just that you’re happy and want to keep things between the two of you.”

The weight of Sharon’s words settled into the room, and for the first time since she’d started speaking, Agatha looked directly at you. The tension in her face was gone for a second, replaced with something softer, vulnerable even.

You looked up at her, your voice barely a whisper. “What about the Emmys?”

The question made her pause, and for a moment, the room was filled only with the faint sound of Sharon’s voice in the background.

Agatha’s lips curved into that signature smile- the one she only reserved for you. “The Emmys?” she repeated, her voice now softer, but teasing. “You want me to show you off in your pretty little dress for the world to see?”

You nodded eagerly, a blush creeping up your neck. “Yes. I want to be with you, Agatha. In front of everyone. I don’t need to wait. I want to be yours… everywhere.”

Agatha’s heart pounded at the sight of you so open, so vulnerable in her arms. The excitement coursed through her as she looked down at you- her gorgeous, talented, strong girl. The weight of the decision was heavier than it had ever been, but one thing was clear: Agatha wasn’t going to hide anymore.

She turned her gaze back to Sharon, her voice steady and commanding. “Alright. We’ll do it at the Emmys. No more games, no more hiding. If they want a story, they’re going to get it. We’re going public. No more ‘privacy’ bullshit.”

Sharon didn’t waste a second to react. “Understood, Agatha. I’ll prep a statement. We’ll make it official on the carpet.”

Agatha sighed, her fingers running through your hair, ending the call with Sharon as she leaned her forehead against yours. “I’m taking control of this. You’re mine, baby. And the world is going to see that.”

You smiled softly up at her, your heart racing. For the first time, everything felt clear. No more hiding. Agatha was ready to take the world on, and she was going to do it with you by her side.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, sealing your promise.

After a long, tense day the weight of the world seemed to lift the moment you stepped into Agatha’s shower. The hot water washed away the stress, the lingering tension from the media circus, and most importantly, the uncertainty. In Agatha’s arms, everything felt safe again.

She helped you wash your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate circles, before wrapping you up in a plush towel and leading you into the bedroom. The air was heavy with comfort, the only sound between the two of you the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Once you were both dressed in soft pyjamas you both made your way to the cinema room. The room was warm, the flickering light from the fireplace casting shadows on the walls. Agatha sank onto the couch, pulling you into her arms, her chest against your back as she nestled you against her side, your head resting on her shoulder.

"How about something comforting?" Agatha murmured, already reaching for the remote.

You looked up at her, your eyes heavy with exhaustion, but something in her smile made your heart race. "Mm sounds amazing," you agreed, snuggling deeper into her warmth.

Agatha’s fingers moved deftly through the collection of movies on the screen. You could already feel the soft hum of her energy; this was her space. These were the films that made her who she was. And you, being the younger of the relationship, hadn't seen half of them. Finally, she settled on a black-and-white classic. The Philadelphia Story. You blinked, watching the opening credits with some confusion.

“Never seen it?” Agatha asked, her voice playful yet somehow stern, like a professor about to impart some vital knowledge.

You shook your head, “No, I haven’t.”

She smirked, her fingers lightly trailing down your arm, a little possessive, a little teasing. “Well, then. It’s about time you saw it. Cary Grant. Katharine Hepburn. Jimmy Stewart. It’s a masterpiece.”

You laughed softly, loving how much she cared about these films. "You really are a movie nerd," you teased, but your voice was warm, loving, a little drowsy.

Agatha pressed a soft kiss to your temple, her lips lingering there for a second longer than necessary. "I know my classic cinema, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice deep and soothing. “And I’m going to make you love it too.”

You giggled, already feeling the softness of the moment take over, the world outside no longer a worry. Agatha settled back into the cushions, her arm around your shoulders, and you sighed contentedly, melting into her warmth. As the movie played, Agatha whispered little comments here and there, pointing out all the clever details you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention. You didn’t mind. You were too caught up in the feeling of being in her arms, safe and content.

"One day, you’ll appreciate all of this," Agatha whispered as you both relaxed into the couch, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm.

“I already do,” you replied softly, looking up at her with affection. “I appreciate you.”

The movie played on, but Agatha’s attention was fully on you now. Her fingers brushed against your cheek, and you melted into her touch, closing your eyes. You could feel the entire weight of the day slip away, replaced by the comfort and love Agatha so effortlessly gave. No matter what the world threw at you, this was where you belonged.

The bed was empty when you stirred awake, the warmth of Agatha’s body long gone, replaced by the cold crisp sheets and the longer scent of your lover. You stretched, blinking against the sunlight that streamed in through the windows, your body still heavy with sleep.

Of course, Agatha was already up.

You sighed, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was hardly surprising, your girlfriend was Agatha Harkness after all, Hollywood’s most formidable director, the woman who never stopped working. If she was in bed past dawn, it was a miracle in your eyes.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress, you tugged on a pair of socks and padded across the room. Agatha’s shirt, oversized on your frame, brushed against your thighs as you made your way down the hallway. You followed the distant murmur of voices, leading you straight to her home office. The door was cracked open just enough for you to peek inside.

Agatha sat behind her desk, looking as powerful and commanding as ever. She was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand while her other gestured toward the laptop screen. Across from her stood Billy Kaplan, her fiercely efficient personal assistant and just about the only person Agatha could tolerate most mornings, nodding along as she spoke, scribbling something down in his notebook.

“-going to be a circus,” Agatha was saying. “The moment we step on that carpet, the press is going to lose their damn minds. If we’re doing this, it has to be calculated. I need you to pull inspiration, Billy- an archival piece, something vintage, one of a kind. None of this ‘off the rack’ bullshit. My girl deserves something iconic.”

You smiled softly at her words, your heart fluttering. Pushing the door open just enough to step inside, you yawned, “Aggie?”

Both their heads snapped up.

Billy’s eyes went huge. “Oh my God,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “You’re Y/N L/N. In the flesh.” His notebook nearly slipped from his grasp. “Holy shit.”

You flushed instantly, gripping the hem of Agatha’s shirt as if it would somehow shield you from the intensity of his awestruck gaze.

Agatha groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Billy.”

“No, sorry, I just-” Billy practically vibrated in place. “You’re incredible. I mean, I saw The Witch at an early screening, and you- God, that performance? The way you- just- ” He gestured wildly, at a complete loss for words. “I have so many questions about your process.”

You laughed, cheeks still warm as you looked toward Agatha. She was watching you, her expression hovering somewhere between irritated and smug, like she was caught between rolling her eyes and basking in the praise being showered upon her girl.

“Billy,” Agatha drawled, sipping her coffee, “do you think you could keep from scaring my partner before breakfast?”

Billy paled. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, that was-” He exhaled, visibly trying to compose himself. “That was unprofessional. I just… wow.”

Agatha smirked, finally looking back at you, her gaze raking over your sleep-soft form, the way her shirt hung off your shoulders, your bare legs peeking out beneath the fabric.

“Come here, baby,” she murmured, beckoning you over with a finger.

You obeyed without hesitation, crossing the room to perch yourself on the edge of her desk. Agatha’s hand slid possessively up your thigh, thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. You could feel Billy forcing himself to look away, his ears turning pink.

“So,” you said softly, glancing between them, “what’s all this?”

Agatha squeezed your thigh, smirking. “Planning the Emmys, sweetheart. Your first official event as mine.”

Your stomach flipped at her words, warmth blooming in your chest.

Billy, still recovering from his starstruck moment, quickly cleared his throat. “Right- um, yes, we’re discussing wardrobe options. Ms. Harkness- uh, Agatha- wants to make sure you both look perfectly coordinated.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head toward Agatha. “Oh? You’re styling me now?”

“Of course,” Agatha murmured, giving your thigh another squeeze. “I can’t have my girl outshining me too much, can I?”

Billy snorted, seemingly regaining some of his composure. “I mean, let’s be real- you’re both going to own that carpet. But yeah, I’m pulling reference images for designers to create a look that complements each other. Like move aside, here comes Hollywood’s new power couple. Iconic.”

You grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

Agatha hummed, tipping her head slightly, her fingers still tracing circles against your skin. “Mm. I knew you would.”

Billy, who was very obviously trying not to stare at the blatant display of affection, clapped his hands together. “Alright! I should- uh- get those references together. And also maybe leave before I internally combust.”

Agatha chuckled. “Good idea.”

Billy gathered his things quickly, flashing you another reverent look before scurrying toward the door. “Seriously, Y/N. Huge fan.”

You laughed, waving him off as he disappeared down the hall.

The moment he was gone, Agatha turned her attention back to you fully, her smirk widening. “You have that effect on people, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning in closer, voice teasing. “Says the woman who has every actor in Hollywood trembling when she walks into a room.”

Agatha chuckled, her hand slipping further up your thigh as she tugged you off her desk and onto her lap, lips brushing against yours. “Mm. True. But I only care about the effect I have on you.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the lapels of her robe. “You already know.”

Agatha smirked, her grip tightening as she pulls you flush against her. “Good girl.”

A shiver ran through you as her fingers dug into your hips, her grip possessive, demanding. The edge of her desk pressed into your back, but you barely noticed, not when Agatha was looking at you like that, her blue eyes darkening with hunger.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she muttered, her voice thick with something dangerous. “Parading around my house in my shirt, batting those pretty eyes at me like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your breath hitched, a thrill shooting through you at the weight of her gaze. “I-I wasn’t…”

Agatha scoffed, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of the shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thighs up to snap the elastic of your panties. “Oh, you weren’t?” she mused, tilting her head. “You weren’t trying to get my attention, baby?”

You swallowed, heat flooding your cheeks.

Agatha smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could even think of a response, her lips crashed against yours. A soft gasp escaped you as she kissed you deeply, her hands roaming over your body like she was starving for you. She kissed like she owned you, like she was staking her claim, pressing her body against yours until there was nothing between you but heat and breathless desperation. Your fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, clinging to her as she devoured you, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, stealing every ounce of air from your lungs. She lifted you back onto the desk without breaking the kiss, settling between your parted legs as her hands roamed higher, her nails dragging up your spine, making you arch into her.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, barely able to catch your breath.

She hummed against your lips, her grip tightening. “Mm. Say it again.”

You shuddered, tilting your head back as her mouth moved to your neck, lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Agatha…”

Agatha groaned, her fingers flexing against your waist. “That’s my good girl,” she murmured.

You melted into her touch, your head spinning, completely lost in her. Agatha was everywhere- her hands, her lips, the heat of her body pressing against yours. You didn’t care about the Emmys, about the press, about anything beyond this moment, beyond her.

She nipped at your pulse point, making you gasp, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Mine.”

You shivered, fingers threading through her dark waves, tugging her closer. “Yours,” you breathed, no hesitation.

Agatha groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you, her pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. Beautiful. Her thumb brushed over your cheek, her expression softer now, full of something fierce and aching. “I’m going to show you off, baby,” she murmured, her voice reverent. “I’m going to put you on my arm at the Emmys and let the whole damn world know you belong to me.”

Your heart pounded, warmth blooming in your chest. “I already do,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. “I’ve always belonged to you.”

Agatha exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the air from her lungs. “Fuck,” she muttered, before kissing you breathless all over again. She couldn’t help but smile against your lips, she never thought she’d be making out with a girl like she was a teenager again at her age.

Agatha hovered over you, her dark waves tumbling around her face as she looked down at you, her expression half-wild, half-worshipful. “Look at you,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over your kiss-swollen lips, her voice thick with possession. “So fucking beautiful.”

Your chest heaved, your body still thrumming from her touch.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Agatha continued, her fingers skimming down the open collar of her shirt that you wore, parting it to reveal more of your skin.

A small, breathless whimper escaped you, and Agatha smirked.

“Oh, baby,” she teased, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, then lower, trailing her lips along your jaw, your throat. “You make the prettiest sounds for me.”

You arched into her, your hands clutching at her robe. “Aggie-”

“Mmm.” She hummed, her lips curving against your pulse point. “My needy girl.”

Your breath hitched as her hands traced down, her nails dragging lightly along your sides. “Aggie,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

She exhaled sharply, her grip tightening. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of hearing you say my name like that.”

Your hands found her face, guiding her back to your lips, kissing her deeply, desperately. Agatha groaned into the kiss, her body pressing flush against yours, her warmth, her weight, all-consuming.

Minutes stretched between heated kisses, whispered praises, stolen breaths, until finally, Agatha sighed against your lips, her touch softening, her forehead pressing gently to yours.

“As much as I’d love to keep you pinned beneath me all morning, baby,” she murmured, her fingers brushing down your sides, “we do have an important day ahead.”

You pouted, blinking up at her. “I don’t want to think about anything but you right now.”

Agatha chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re dangerous,” she teased, kissing the tip of your nose. “Tempting me like this.”

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips, and Agatha’s heart clenched at the joy in your eyes. She had never expected this- never expected you, this love that consumed her so entirely. But she had you. And she was never letting go. She kissed you one last time, slow, lingering, claiming before finally pulling away.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you dressed. We’ve got the Emmy’s to prepare for.”

You huffed dramatically but let her pull you up into her arms. “Fine,” you relented, letting her tuck you against her side. “But only if you help me pick my dress.”

Agatha smirked, her hand possessively gripping your hip. “Oh, baby. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then your phone buzzed.

You groaned, burying your face in Agatha’s shoulder. “Nooo, I don’t want to deal with real life yet.”

Agatha chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You better answer it, baby,” she murmured, her voice laced with amusement.

You sighed dramatically, reaching over to grab your phone. ‘Jen – Publicist Extraordinaire’ was flashing across the screen.

“Ugh,” you muttered before answering. “Hey, Jen.”

“Hey, Jen?!” her voice rang through the speaker, already at a full ten. “You were just planning to let me find out from the damn press, huh?”

You frowned. “Uh… what?”

“Oh, don’t ‘what’ me, Y/N.” You could practically hear her pacing. “I just got a confirmation for the Emmys for a seating change request. From Agatha Harkness’ team. Agatha Harkness’ team, Y/N. Do you see where I might have some questions?!”

You winced, shooting a glance at Agatha, who was smirking like the menace she was. “Okay, okay, chill- Agatha just wanted me to sit next to her after we make our red carpet debut as a couple…”

“CHILL?!” Jen screeched. “Y/N, are you about to debut your relationship with one of Hollywood’s most powerful directors on the Emmy’s red carpet, and you didn’t think to tell me?!”

You bit your lip, shrinking slightly under the intensity of her voice. “…Maybe?”

“OH MY-”

Agatha cackled.

You shot her a glare, but she just pulled you closer, whispering, “She sounds fun when she’s panicking.”

You smacked her arm lightly before turning back to your phone. “Okay, look, Jen, we literally just decided, like, last night-”

“Last night and you still didn’t think to call me?!”

“Jen…”

“I’m your publicist, Y/N! This is my job!”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But, yes, the Emmys will be our couple debut, and we’re handling it on our terms.”

Jen was silent for a moment. Then, in a much calmer, scarier, voice, she said, “And when, exactly, were you planning to tell me?”

“…Now?”

Another long pause.

Then, a deep sigh. “I need a drink.”

Agatha grinned. “Tell her to come over. I’ll pour her one.”

You gave her an exasperated look before turning back to your phone. “Jen, breathe. It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine?!” Jen hissed. “Y/N, you’re dating Agatha Harkness. You’re making your relationship debut at the Emmys. You are officially about to be the most talked-about actress in Hollywood.” Another pause. “So, no. I will not be breathing until we have a plan.”

You sighed. “So… you’re coming over?”

“Oh, I’m already in the car.”

You blinked. “Wait—”

The call ended.

You stared at your phone in horror. “Oh my god, she’s already coming over.”

Agatha hummed, smirking as lifted her arms above her head, stretching. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

You groaned as Agatha pulled you back into her arms, pressing a teasing kiss to your jaw. “Mmm. You’re adorable when you’re stressed, baby.”

“You’re evil.”

She grinned. “You love it.”

You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the soft white fabric of your white lace milkmaid dress. The delicate lace trim and cinched waist made you look softer, ethereal, but the high slit that exposed the smooth line of your leg? That was downright dangerous. Agatha was going to lose her mind. You barely had time to admire yourself before you felt her behind you- her presence, her heat, the way her hands slowly ghosted up your thighs, stopping just short of slipping beneath the fabric.

“Baby,” she murmured, her voice already thick with desire.

You smirked at her reflection. “Yes, my love?”

Agatha groaned, her grip tightening. “You planned this,” she accused, dragging her nails lightly over your hip. “You know what this dress does to me.”

You giggled, tilting your head back against her. “I just wanted to look pretty for you.”

Agatha growled. “Oh, you look pretty, alright.” Her fingers traced up the edge of your slit, stopping just shy of slipping between your legs. “Too pretty. I should cancel everything and spend the rest of the day ruining you.”

Your breath hitched. And then… a knock at the front door. Agatha froze. Her head snapped toward the bedroom doorway like she was seconds away from murder. You bit your lip, trying, and failing, to suppress a giggle.

“Fucking Jennifer,” Agatha muttered under her breath, her fingers twitching against your skin. “Always ruining my fun.”

Another knock, this time sharper, more annoyed.

You giggled, turning in Agatha’s arms. “You knew this was coming.”

Agatha huffed. “I hate that I did.”

Still, she allowed you to pull away to open the door for Jen, though not before she gripped your chin, kissing you hard, as if to make sure you felt her frustration. You definitely did.

Jen walked in like she owned the place, gold jewelry catching the light, pink suit sharp enough to kill. And yet, even she faltered for a second, eyes flicking up toward the insane vaulted ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the infinity pool, the sleek, modern decor that screamed excessive Hollywood wealth.

She pursed her lips. “I hate that this is nice.”

You grinned. “Good to see you too, Jen.”

Her gaze snapped to you, and she threw her hands up. “Oh, don’t ‘good to see you’ me, you menace.” She gestured wildly between you and Agatha. “I should fire you as a client just for the stress you’ve caused me in the last four hours-”

“Hmm. Unfortunate,” Agatha cut in smoothly, swirling the whiskey she had definitely poured just to be a menace. “Though I could just let you use mine. Publicists are very replaceable.”

Jen turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Oh. Right. You.”

Agatha smirked, unbothered, as she leaned against the marble island, looking obnoxiously powerful and expensive in her black suit. “Me.”

You sighed. “Okay, let’s just play nice. Please?”

Jen crossed her arms. “I’ll tolerate her.”

Agatha grinned. “And I'll pretend she’s useful.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Jen sighed dramatically, flopping onto a stool. “Whatever. Let’s just talk about this PR nightmare before the press eats you alive.”

Agatha raised a brow. “I wouldn’t call it a nightmare.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Yes well, you wouldn’t. You’re Agatha Harkness: people think you drink the blood of failing directors to stay at the top.”

Agatha smirked. “Flattering.”

Jen pointed at you. “But you? You’re Hollywood’s new golden girl. You have a career to protect. We can’t just-” She gestured wildly at the two of you. “-throw this at the wolves without a plan.”

You hesitated, then quietly responded, “We do have a plan.”

Jen squinted. “Oh, do you?”

You shifted, suddenly nervous. “We’re… gonna go to the Emmys together.”

Silence. Jen blinked. Once. Twice. She stared at you, dumbfounded, hands planted firmly on the counter like she was physically restraining herself from committing violence.

You swallowed, fidgeting with the lace hem of your dress. “I-” you started.

Jen held up a finger. “No, no. I need a minute.” She turned dramatically, taking a slow sip of the iced coffee she had definitely just helped herself to from Agatha’s $2,000 espresso machine.

Agatha watched her with the patience of a goddess entertaining a mortal’s tantrum.

Finally, Jen turned back, exhaling sharply. “Okay. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that in three days, you two plan to step onto the Emmys red carpet, holding hands, all loved up, and just drop the biggest Hollywood relationship bombshell in years without any real consideration of the press fallout or even a plan as to what you’re going to answer when interviewers inevitably try and get the story?”

You hesitated. “…Yes?”

Jen pointed at Agatha. “See, for her, that’s fine.” Then her eyes snapped to you, sharp and deadly. “You, on the other hand? You’re not untouchable.”

Your stomach tightened. “…What do you mean?”

Jen sighed, rubbing her temples. “I mean, baby, you’re a rising star. You’re the ingenue. The fresh new face of Hollywood. You’ve done, what? Five movies? You’ve got directors dying to cast you in their next big romantic drama, their next Oscar-bait performance.”

You nodded, unsure where she was going with this.

Jen leaned forward. “But now? Now you’re the actress that fucked her director.”

You visibly flinched.

Agatha’s eyes flashed. “Watch your tone.”

Jen didn’t even blink. “Oh, please, Agatha. I’m doing my job.” She turned back to you, expression softer but still serious. “Look, I love you, and you know I support you, but this isn’t just any relationship reveal. You’re young. You’re beautiful. You’re supposed to be the dream girl for millions of people. But now? You might lose that.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “…Because I’m gay?”

Jen sighed. “Partly. You know how this industry can be.”

You did.

She continued, “But also because of optics. The media loves a scandal, babe. And you? You’ve got one gift-wrapped for them.” She counted on her fingers. “You fell in love with your older, more powerful director. You were working under her-”

Agatha grinned. “In many ways.”

Jen pointedly ignored her. “- and now, boom, you’re in a relationship. You know what people are going to say.”

Your throat felt tight. “…What?”

Jen gave you a knowing look. “That you slept your way to the top.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face. You inhaled sharply, fingers gripping the counter.

“They’ll say your career isn’t real,” Jen continued, relentless. “That you only got The Witch because you were fucking her.”

Agatha’s energy shifted. Suddenly, she wasn’t just calmly observing. She was dangerous. She set her whiskey glass down slowly, fingers tapping once, twice, against the crystal. “Anyone who implies that she didn’t earn her place in this industry with her talent,” she said, voice low, “is going to find themselves blacklisted so fast their heads will spin.”

You swallowed, trying to fight the panic creeping up your spine. “But they will say it,” you whispered.

Jen softened, sighing. “Yeah, babe. They will.”

You felt Agatha’s hand on your back, warm and grounding, but for the first time, you wondered if you’d really thought this through. Your chest feels tight, your heart pounded, but not in the way it did when Agatha touched you. This was different. This was fear, cold and sharp, clawing up your throat. You stared at Jen, her words echoing in your skull. You’d worked so hard. You’d given everything to your career. Every audition, every night spent memorizing scripts, every sacrifice- all of it had led you here. And now… now people would say you hadn’t earned it at all. That you’d just… slept your way here. Your stomach turned.

Jen sighed. “Babe, look, I’m not saying this to scare you, but-”

“I know what you’re saying,” you choked out.

Agatha’s grip on your waist tightened. Her fingers pressed against your ribs, grounding, protective, but it didn’t stop the thoughts spiraling in your head.

Your voice wobbled. “What if people stop taking me seriously?”

Agatha stilled. You barely noticed. You were too busy spiraling.

“What if no one hires me again?” you whispered, voice trembling. “What if they think I’m just some dumb girl who got lucky because I- because I-”

Your throat closed up. You couldn’t even say it. Because I slept with her. Because I wasn’t good enough on my own. Jen opened her mouth, but Agatha beat her to it.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone, dares to say you don’t deserve every single success you have worked for, I will personally make sure they never work in this town again.”

Her voice was dangerous. Her fingers dug into your hip, her body coiled like a beast ready to strike. Agatha wasn’t just angry. She was furious. Her eyes, normally a deep, sharp blue, were nearly black.

Jen actually flinched. “Jesus,” she muttered, taking a step back. “Didn’t realize we were about to summon demons.”

You felt sick. Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You hated this. You hated that this was how your love was going to be twisted. You buried your face in your hands. “I just…I just wanted-”

Agatha moved. Before you could even process it, she was pulling you against her, hands firm but gentle as she wrapped you in her arms.

“Enough,” she said, voice lower now, calmer, but still burning with restrained rage.

You tensed, still shaking, but she wouldn’t let you go. She kissed the side of your head, voice softening just for you. “You know what you’re worth,” she murmured. “And I know it. That’s all that matters.”

You wanted to believe her. But right now, you just wanted to hide. Everything was too much. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air in your lungs too thin, your skin too tight. It wasn’t just Jen’s words anymore. It was your own mind, amplifying them, twisting them, turning every whispered fear into a fact.

Jen was right, Agatha would be fine. She was a titan of the industry, a force no scandal could topple. You’d seen how people spoke about her, how she could ruin careers with a flick of her wrist if she wanted to. But you?

You weren’t Agatha Harkness.

You were twenty-six. You were up for your first Oscar. You had worked your ass off to be here, and now… what if they thought you’d just fucked your way to the top?

What if they dismissed you as a talentless pretty thing Agatha had taken to bed? What if this ruined you?

Your vision blurred. Your breath came too fast. You felt like you were falling. And then-

“Baby. Look at me.” Agatha’s voice cut through the panic like a blade. Sharp. Commanding. Unshakable.

Your body reacted before your brain did. Your head snapped up, your teary eyes meeting hers. She was still holding you, her arms wrapped tight around you, keeping you from breaking apart. Her face was serious. Eyes dark. Steady. Certain.

“Breathe,” she ordered.

You tried.

You failed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your throat closed up. The panic rushed back in-

“I said, breathe.”

Her hands moved, sliding up to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, grounding, claiming. You gulped in a ragged breath.

“That’s it,” she murmured, softer now. “Again.”

You did. The panic didn’t leave, but it slowed. Just a little. Just enough for Agatha to take over. She pulled you closer, tucking you against her, her hand resting firmly at the nape of your neck.

Then, she turned her gaze to Jen. And Jen, who up until now, had been watching with wide eyes, for the first time looking genuinely concerned, visibly straightened.

Agatha’s voice was low. Deadly. “We’re done with this conversation.”

Jen’s lips parted. “But-”

Agatha cut her off. “You’ve given us the information. We don’t need anything else right now.”

Her fingers threaded through your hair. You clung to her, face still buried in her chest, body exhausted from the emotional wreckage the day had brought.

Jen hesitated. Then, after a long beat, she exhaled. “Alright,” she said, more gently now. “We’ll talk later.”

You didn’t see her leave. You only felt Agatha shift, felt her strong arms lift you effortlessly, carrying you as if you were weightless. She murmured soft reassurances into your hair. You barely registered where she was taking you, only that she was there. Solid. Safe. Yours.

Agatha was terrified. And furious. Not at you. Never at you. At them. At Jen. At every single person who had put these thoughts in your head, made you believe, even for a second, that you were anything but extraordinary. She held you tight against her, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your waist. But you weren’t responding. You were here, but you weren’t. Your eyes were glassy, your breath shallow, your body limp. It was wrong.

“Baby,” she whispered. “I need you to hear me.”

You barely blinked. Agatha’s heart clenched. She was a fixer. A force of nature. She could bend Hollywood to her will. She could destroy anyone who spoke against her. But she couldn’t fix this if you wouldn’t let her in.

So she moved. She carried you to the bedroom, her grip unrelenting, as if letting you go would make you disappear. She laid you down gently, as if you might break. Then she climbed in beside you, pressing herself flush against you, one arm snaking around your waist, pulling you in, holding you down, keeping you safe. Her lips brushed your temple. Your cheek. Your jaw.

Nothing.

Her fingers traced slow, warm patterns over your hip, slipping beneath the fabric of the soft dress hugging your body, touching skin.

Nothing.

She kissed the corner of your mouth, her voice low, desperate. “Come back to me, sweetheart.”

A shudder ran through you. Just barely. But she felt it. And she pounced on it. “That’s it, my love,” she murmured, moving closer, tangling your legs together, her lips at your ear. “I’m right here. I have you.”

Another tremor.

Her hand tightened on your hip. “That’s my good girl,” she praised, voice like smoke and velvet. “Come back to me, my love.”

A whimper. Her name on your lips, small and broken. But it was something. And it was enough. She didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She kissed you, deep and possessive, her hands sliding up your body, touching, claiming, grounding you back to her. And finally you kissed her back. A choked sob against her mouth, hands fisting in her shirt, pulling her closer. Your breath was still shaky, but your body was alive again, melting into her, letting her take all of you.

Your kiss was desperate. Messy. A little broken. And Agatha ate it up like she was starving. Because she was. She had momentarily lost you to your own thoughts, to their cruel words, to the ugly, rotting lies that tried to take what was hers. She wouldn’t let that happen. She kissed you harder, deeper, her hands claiming, possessing, grounding you back to her. Her grip on your hip tightened, her nails digging in just enough to make you gasp against her mouth.

“There she is,” she murmured, voice like gravel and silk.

Her mouth moved down, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, sinking her teeth in, marking you. A whine escaped you. Your body arched. And finally, finally, you were fully here again. Agatha could feel it. You were trembling, pressing into her, needing her, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping you from floating away. And maybe she was.

“You’re mine,” she growled against your skin, her thigh pressing firmly between yours.

A gasp. A moan. Her fingers trailed up your body, pushing your dress off your shoulders, baring more of what belonged to her.

“No one gets to say who you are,” she hissed, her lips brushing your pulse point. “No one gets to define you.”

Her hand wrapped around your throat, not tight, just enough to feel your pulse, to own it.

“You’re not some scandal,” she continued, her voice dark. “You’re not some tabloid headline.”

Her grip tightened.

“You’re mine.”

Your whimper was pathetic. Perfect. She groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you, to see you, eyes wild and hungry.

And fuck you were so beautiful like this. Flushed. Breathless. Hers. The fear was gone now. The doubt was replaced with need. And Agatha would give you exactly what you needed. She always did.

The next day Agatha noticed it immediately. The quiet. It wasn’t that you were silent, but there was something off about the way you moved. The way you held yourself. She could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes flickered to the window but never truly focused. You hadn’t been like this before. Her brow furrowed as she watched you from the doorway of her office. She’d been trying to focus on her work, but her eyes were drawn to you every few minutes. She was used to you being her steady presence, her girl who smiled back at her no matter what. But today? You seemed distant, withdrawn.

“Baby?” Agatha’s voice was gentle but firm. She hated seeing you like this. Her usual dominance was still present, but there was something more in the way she called your name, something that softened just a little.

You didn’t look up at her immediately. The silence stretched on, and she stepped into the room, her heels clicking on the floor as she crossed the space between you. When she reached you, her hands gently cupped your face, guiding you to meet her gaze. You looked so small, so fragile.

“Talk to me,” she murmured, her voice steady but thick with concern. She wasn’t used to seeing you so vulnerable, and it made something twist uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the instinct to fix things or the deeper fear of losing you.

You tried to shake the thoughts from your head. Tried to pretend that Jen’s words hadn’t sunk their claws into you, whispering insidious doubts that refused to let go.You swallowed, lips trembling slightly. You knew she could read you, but you tried anyway to avoid meeting her eyes.

“I… I’m just… I’m just worried, Agatha,” you whispered. “What if I’m not worth it? What if they’re right, what if all of this- it’s just too much? I don’t want to drag you down…”

Agatha’s heart clenched in a way she hadn’t expected. She thought she’d done everything to assure you, but clearly, the doubts still lingered. Still, she remained composed, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

“No.” The word was sharp, cutting through your thoughts. “You will always be worth it. You’re worth everything.”

You tried to pull away from her touch, but she wouldn’t let you. Her grip on your face tightened, firm but tender. “I built this empire, baby. I own this town. But what scares me the most? Losing you. Letting anyone convince you that you're not worthy, that you're anything less than perfect. I won’t allow it. You got here because you’re brilliant. You got here because you are one of the most talented actresses I’ve ever seen. You got here because when you step in front of a camera, people can’t look away”

Her eyes bore into yours, fierce, full of a possessive fire. “I love you, and I will not let you doubt us or yourself. Ever.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Her words, the rawness of her emotion, struck you harder than you could have expected.

“But…” Your voice wavered. “Jen- she said-”

“Forget Jen.” Agatha’s voice was dark, and for a moment, the fire in her eyes matched the intensity of her words. “She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know us. She doesn’t get to tell me what’s mine.” She pulled you closer, her chest pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your ear. “You think this world, this city, could ever take you from me?” Her laugh was low, dark. “I’m a fucking force, babygirl. And no one is taking you from me.”

You felt your heartbeat in your throat. You had to look away, because Agatha’s gaze was too much to bear, the weight of her emotions, her devotion, overwhelming in the best way.

“Baby,” Agatha whispered, her hands running down your back, warm and soothing now, as if to melt the anxiety she’d just heated up in you. “You’re mine. You’re the one I want. And nothing will change that. Not the press. Not anyone or anything. And I’ll remind you every damn day just how much I love you”

You nodded, your tears finally falling, but this time, they felt like relief. You buried yourself in her, feeling the strength of her embrace.

Agatha’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “If anyone dares to suggest anything different, they will never work in this town again. I will burn their pathetic little careers to the ground before they can even type out their first shitty tweet about you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “You can’t control everyone, Aggie.”

Her lips curled into a dark smile. “Oh, sweetheart.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your lips. “Watch me.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha coven of chaos #agatha x you

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tinytalkingtina · 2 months ago

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Who could not be happy?

Written for the February @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "rose" and 367 words

Rating G | Ao3 link

Tags: language of flowers, Eddie has a crush on Steve, love confessions, first kiss

See under the cut for some notes on flower language, and thank you steddiecameraroll-graphics for the lovely divider!

Eddie stared at the book clutched tightly in his hands. There was a rose carefully tucked away among its pages. The color had faded a bit, but a pink hue still delicately tinted the petals. And that wasn’t all. Fragments of other flowers were also dried and wrapped in protective layers of wax paper: camellia, columbine, gardenia. Under the last page, a green carnation peeked out.

Steve came back into the room juggling a few more empty boxes.

“This should be the final load, if we add anything else the Beemer won't make it to Chicago without tipping over. Hope you don't mind us driving up without the rearview mirror.”

Steve grinned, but Eddie didn’t respond. The grin faltered a little.

“You okay man? Not getting cold feet now.” Wordlessly, Eddie held out the book.

“Oh, thanks, this one needs to be packed flat.” A tiny smile crept over Steve's face. “You know how people used to decorate their crush's locker for Valentine's Day? My senior year there was this whole bouquet tucked in waiting for me. Dunno who put it there, Nance and I'd broken up months ago. They're nice though, right? I mean you never see green flowers. Wish I could've thanked them, whoever it was.”

A tiny spark of hope bloomed in Eddie's chest. Before he could swallow it back down, his brain blurted out:

“I had perfect attendance in Spanish that year.”

Steve's eyes squinted in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My second-go around at senior year, and I was still stuck in Hawkins, then freaking King Steve sits behind me in Spanish 3,” Eddie barreled on. “You never used to pay attention to anyone who wasn't in your inner circle, but in that class you'd mutter to yourself about how cool my doodles looked, and told folks to knock it off when they called me trailer trash. So I found a book on flower meanings and did something incredibly stupid.” He didn’t dare look at Steve as he finished his confession.

The kiss caught him off-guard.

“Guess I've got three years worth of dates to make up for. Prepare to be romanced off your feet Munson.”

That February, Eddie gave Steve red and yellow tulips.

Author's notes

-The fic's title comes from a quote by Victorian playwright Oscar Wilde: "With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" The green carnation is associated with Oscar Wilde himself, and wearing a green carnation on ones lapel might have been a code for gay men at the time to identify one another. Wilde was famously convicted for homosexual acts in 1895. Let's say Eddie picked up a copy of "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and learned about the symbolism from a coded forward written for it.

-The meanings within the original bouquet were "happiness" (pink rose), "longing for you" (pink camellia), "foolishness/folly" (columbine), secret love (gardenia), and homosexuality (green carnation). Eddie was being very dramatic putting together the original bouquet for his forbidden love, and definitely dyed the carnation himself.

-Red and yellow tulips represent passion/declaration of love and sunshine in your smile respectively.

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficfebruary #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #tinawrites

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

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sense memory | S.R.

After eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

part two

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: flangst content warnings: general cm violence, peter lewis, prison reid, cat adams word count: 2.64k a/n: i have no idea if i like this or not. it might be too cheesy. but i like cheese.

Second floor, apartment 23.

You leaned against the wall and slid down until you were sat on the ground. You left your bag draped over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, sweetie,” someone said, causing your head to snap up. “Here to see him?” Spencer’s elderly neighbor asked as she passed, carrying a grocery bag in her hand from the market down the street.

Nodding, you smiled softly at her, “I was on a trip. I’m just waiting for him to come home.”

She hummed and kept walking to her door, apartment 24. “He went on a trip too, huh.”

Waving halfheartedly as she disappeared into her apartment, you leaned your head against the wall. Yeah, you went on a trip – a trip to witness protection, and Spencer went to prison.

Spencer went to prison. The words still felt foreign to you, you hadn’t heard them until two weeks ago after Peter Lewis died. Since he didn’t know where you were, he sent letters to your old address, and they were forwarded to the marshal assigned to protect you. When you left the program, you got the letters. 178 letters.

Some of them were several pages long, some of them were as simple as an I love you or an I miss you, and some of them had doodles, usually equations.

You wondered if he’d gotten your mail yet. The letters and pictures you’d collected for your marshal to send to him once you were out of WITSEC. You weren’t even sure if he’d want to see you, but your dad encouraged you to try anyway.

You had left in October, just after his birthday, and now it was May.

After being separated from your dad and Jack for so long, you went to stay with them for a week, but you knew you wanted to return to the district. You wanted to see Spencer, for closure if for nothing else. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, JJ,” you heard him say from the first floor, and panic washed over you. The nerves of seeing him again had you wondering whether or not you could survive a jump out of the second-story window.

But the hallway windows didn’t open, you were left panicking, and then there he was.

You shouldn’t be here; you didn’t know what to say to him. The first person from your past should’ve been someone else. You could’ve called JJ or Penelope.

You saw him before he saw you, he was too busy digging in his bag for his keys. Pulling yourself up to your feet, you stood up and wiped your clammy hands on your jeans.

When he looked up and saw you, his expression went from confusion to disbelief to shock. Not once did he look happy, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he, like you, had been finding it hard to be happy lately.

Your chest ached as he walked past you and put his key in the lock. Spencer opened the door, and you held your breath as he held the door open, and you stepped inside of the apartment.

For months, you had imagined this moment in your mind, wondering what you would say when you finally got to see him again. He set his keys down on the entryway table before he turned around and faced you.

Familiar honey-colored irises studied you as if he was comparing the last time he had seen you to now.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like you were imposing on him.

Slowly, you walked backward out of the still-open door, resorting to the idea of never seeing him again. Until he spoke, “Please don’t leave me again.” His voice was soft, timid in a way you had never heard before.

You spun around and your lips parted in surprise. Tentatively, you stepped back toward him before you were right in front of him, inches apart, “I won’t.” It was a promise.

You weren’t sure who reached for who first, but the next moment your arms were slung around his neck and Spencer’s were around your torso, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground.

He’d bowed his head so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, whispering your name like a prayer that had been answered.

Propping your chin up on his shoulder, you took a deep breath, “I’m right here, Spence. I’m right here.” He was the same, and yet entirely different. Maybe more muscular, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell him that you would never leave him again, not as long as he didn’t want you to.

Everything had changed in the past eight months; you knew you couldn’t make him that promise. That I’ll never leave you promise. It wasn’t real.

But Spencer was real. He was real and he was clutching you the way you were clutching you, his fingers digging into your skin so hard that you might bruise. “I got your letters,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You felt tears seep through your clothes as you took a deep breath and gently pried yourself away from him. “222 days,” he told you matter-of-factly. “I haven’t seen you in 222 days because you were in witness protection and you’re apologizing to me.”

“Of course, I’m apologizing to you. God, I left the program, and my marshal was like ‘Oh, by the way, here are hundreds of letters from your friends and your boyfriend wrote to you while you were gone. And just so you know, your boyfriend was in federal prison for the last three months.’” You took a few deep, uneven breaths. “What am I supposed to do with that, Spencer? Stop looking at me like that!”

He was smiling at you, his eyes were still watery, but he was giving you a doting smile even so, “I missed you.”

You dropped to a crouch at his words, and he followed you down. Those were the only words you had needed to hear over the last eight months. Meekly, you looked up at him, kneeling in front of you. When you left, Spencer had seemed like he was on top of the world, his mom had been accepted in that clinical trial, and the two of you had been talking more and more about your future. Now he seemed… heavier. A more burdened person. “I missed you so much,” you cried.

Reaching over to you, Spencer gently wiped the tears from your face before pulling you close to him, “You look as beautiful as you did the day I lost you.”

The two of you toppled over as a result of focusing on holding each other instead of balancing. He laid back on the floor, holding you close to him. You looked up, resting your chin on his shoulder, “You never lost me. You could never lose me. I always knew I’d come back; I always knew you’d get Scratch.”

“I didn’t, though,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

You hummed, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your palm. “We’re here now, doesn’t that count for anything?”

Spencer pushed up so that he was being supported by his elbows, “That counts for everything.” He studied your face, “Where did that scar come from? It’s new,” he said, his voice still quiet, like you were an animal, and he was trying not to scare you away.

“Oh,” you murmured, “bashed my head on a door. Only me, right?” You brushed him off before clambering to your feet. What were you supposed to do now? Ask him if he wanted to talk? You used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose. God, he had called you beautiful with snot running down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, staring at the floor. “I know, I know you’re going to say that I don’t have anything to apologize for, but I’m apologizing anyway. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry that Morgan, my dad, and I all left within the same few months.”

He shook his head, “If you hadn’t gone, you’d most likely be dead now. I’d rather miss you for eight months than grieve you for a lifetime.”

You stepped away from him until you backed into the couch, “I thought about calling you. I had no idea that I wouldn’t have been able to. I just thought that-“

And just like that, he was kissing you. It was inevitable, just a question of who would make the first move. A small, shocked noise bubbled in your throat before you leaned into the kiss. It was gentle, tentative even. You gripped the lapels of his jacket as if he’d fade away, but you kissed him gently until he pulled away. “You showing up is the best thing to happen to me all year,” he murmured, sweeping your hair behind your ears. “You remain the most important person in my life.”

“Second most important,” you corrected. “How’s your mom?” Some of the information in his letters didn’t seem overly optimistic, mentioning him bringing her home to stay with him and a medication that he was getting in Mexico.

Spencer gave you a tight-lipped smile, “She’s good, I just went to see her with JJ, actually. She’s staying at a home in the district now.”

You smiled, “That’s good, keeping her close will be good for the both of you, I think.” Spencer reached around your body and pulled at your jacket, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your coat off in an attempt to coax you into staying,” he answered candidly.

Humming, you allowed him to pull the coat off of you, watching intently as he hung it on the coat rack. “Spence?” His name still felt foreign in your mouth as you moved to sit down on the couch.

He looked at you once he finished hanging his own coat, “Yeah?” Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. A calculated decision, giving you space, but not sitting in a different chair.

“We should talk about it,” you responded, swallowing thickly. “All of it. Everything,” you continued. Millburn. Cat. Mr. Scratch.

Spencer went first, talking to you intently about what happened in that hotel room in Mexico. When he told you what Lindsay had done, you had to swallow your anger. Every once in a while, he’d trip over his words, and you encouraged him to take a break. You laid down on the couch and Spencer nestled in right next to you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and enabling you to play with his hair.

Eventually, he told you about Scratch’s takedown. How Luke had watched him dangle from the ledge of that building before he fell to his death.

You sniffled at the end of his story, “I’ll have to thank Luke next time I see him.” You said, closing your eyes and reveling in your sense memory. The smell of his shampoo – tea tree – and the smell of his apartment – stale coffee and old books.

“Where were you?” He whispered, reaching up and skimming the scar on your forehead with his fingertips.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to find his brown ones watching you. “Minnesota,” You whispered, “St. Paul.” Taking a deep breath, you continued, “Then Sacramento, for a while.”

His brows furrowed, “Why did you leave St. Paul?”

You hesitated, afraid to speak about the event. One of the worst things to have ever happened to you, right on up there with the death of your mother. “My uh…” you cleared your throat, “my location was compromised.”

“Does it have anything to do with the scar?” The one you had lied to him about hours ago.

Shutting your eyes, you nodded almost imperceptibly, “It has everything to do with the scar.”

You could see him starting to put a story together on his own, there was a scar on your face that hadn’t been there last year. A scratch. “What happened?”

The memory was there, you wanted to bury it, but it would stick with you forever. The scar on your forehead would fade, but the scar on your soul was permanent. “I did it, I put the scar there,” you admitted. “I don’t know how he found me,” you whispered, that same feeling of defeat rising in your chest.

You were lucky that there was no one else in the house for you to hurt because if Peter Lewis had turned you into a murderer, it might’ve pushed you over the metaphorical edge. As you spoke to Spencer, you told him as much. You were in a bad place while you were in WITSEC.

The two of you remained curled up together in a mess of tears and limbs and fistfuls of shirts and the overwhelming fear of being separated. Looking at him simultaneously broke your heart and put it back together again. “Sacramento was nice, but I missed the East Coast,” you whispered.

“What about your dad?” Spencer asked softly. Part of you wondered if he wanted to go to sleep, it was dark outside now, but you couldn’t be bothered to check the time.

Nodding, you sniffled, “he’s in Philadelphia with Jack, has been the whole time. That’s where I’ve been, with them.”

Spencer lifted his head to look at you, “Where are you staying tonight?”

Sighing, you shifted on the couch, “In a hotel, I’m apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“No,” he said simply, a frown forming on his face.

You laughed lightly, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

He shook his head, “I mean don’t go apartment hunting tomorrow, stay here with me. Stay here tonight, too.” He said, voice bordering on pleading.

“Spencer, we were together for almost six years and never moved in together,” you told him, arching one brow in suspicion. You had talked about it, it just never seemed to happen.

He sat up fully, “I’m tired of making excuses about breaking leases and travel times, Y/N. There’s not enough time in life to keep avoiding it,” he gestured wildly with his hands as his voice slowly rose.

You tried to wrap your head around the idea, “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through before making a decision this big.” Folding your hands in your lap, you noticed the first real change in him. This was impulsive.

“I spent three months in prison thinking about you!” He said loudly, “Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going.” That was quieter like he realized how loud he was actually being. “I knew there was my mom, I knew there was the team, but seeing you again… that kept me going.” He studied your face and based on the emotions you were feeling you could only imagine what your expression was, “Is it me? Is it everything I told you that I did? The poison? Cat? Do you not love me anymore?”

Your breath hitched, “I love you. Of course, I still love you.” Finally, you saw it. He was different, but at the same time, he was still the boy who hid his feelings from you – afraid of upsetting your father. The two of you had a long way to go before you could be together in way you used to be, and maybe things would never be the same.

His shoulders slouched forward in relief, “then move in with me.”

Nodding, you leaned your head on his shoulder, “okay.” You took his hand in yours, expertly intertwining your fingers as if no time had passed. “Okay,” you whispered. It certainly didn’t hurt to try.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “I love you too.”

please remember to reblog, like, and/or commend if you enjoyed!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot

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houseofceline · 1 year ago

Text

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Steal My Girl

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: Theo's friends get to meet you for the first time.

< 2

__________________

Perfect.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction after taking a little study break to organize all your fabrics by color. The plan was originally to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack, but your messy little studio set up in your dorm easily distracted you on the way out and made you change your plans.

Your fingers flipped through the pages of your design sketchbook. A small smile formed on your face as you traced your sketches.

Fashion.

The only thing that you felt competent in. You didn’t have to try to make things look good. It was the only thing that came natural to you. You could plan an entire outfit for any occasion faster than you could even list the ingredients in a simple potion. You weren’t going to become a doctor like both of your parents, but you thought it’d be better to do something you’re good at rather than forcing yourself to study materials that you’ll never be able to understand. No matter how many times they tried to persuade, or threaten, you to change career paths, you never strayed far from your dreams. The dreams that kept you happy when you were scolded for wanting to stay home and draw instead of going with your father to work.

At least you will never have the chance to mess up a surgery. That would be worse than the invention of jeggings.

The door swung open and your roommate walked in. You furrow your eyebrows upon her presence, wondering why she would be back so early from her date with Cedric.

“How’d your date go?” You closed your design book and walked towards your bed before flopping onto it.

So comfy.

Cho sighed before rolling her eyes, “stupid last minute quidditch practice.”

You giggled as your stomach growled. Maybe you should’ve gotten a snack before you decided to clean.

“Dining hall?” Cho offered her arm out.

You jumped up from your bed and happily skipped over to her and took her arm.

“I’m famished,” You exclaimed in desperate need of having anything in your stomach after the oatmeal bowl for breakfast.

“Me too, Cedric had promised me pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade before I got canceled on,” Cho grumbled as the two of you walked in a pair towards the hall.

Pastries. Croissants. Ugh you missed home. France has the best pastries. Now you were craving a chocolate croissant. Not that croissants are the only pastry in France.

“Next ti- ow,” you rubbed your head after the harsh impact, stumbling a bit.

“Watch where you’re going next time mate,” another boy came up and landed a harsh slap on his back.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The boy in front of you questioned frantically while trying to hide the fact that he was searching your head for any bruises. Theo might kill him if he made a bruise on his “pretty girl”.

“I‘m okay,” you waved your hands in front of your face, kind of nervous that people were starting to look.

“Hello y/n,” The other boy came up and offered his hand out.

You were confused on how he knew your name despite the fact that you didn’t know his, but still shook his hand.

The boy chuckled at your confused looking expression. He could understand why Theo had called you pretty instead of his usual “she’s hot”s that the group would receive when talking about girls.

“I’m Mattheo, Riddle,” he winked, “Nott’s friend. And this is Lorenzo.”

You made an ‘ohh’ face in recognition but you remained surprised at the fact that you were even linked to him.

Cho nudged your side. You looked over to her and was met with a raised eyebrow. You were as equally as confused as her. You and Theodore had only interacted once and it was during that one potions class, the day Cho had to skip due to sickness. You had no idea why his friends knew about you or were even talking to you.

But nonetheless you offered a warm smile towards the two boys, “nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lorenzo returned the gesture. You liked him, he seemed nice.

Cho cleared her throat while clutching her stomach. You had forgotten what the two of you had even come to the hall for.

“Well, enjoy your meal!” You waved them goodbye as Cho dragged you to the Ravenclaw filled tables and out of their sights.

“Who are you losers bothering,” Theo scowled and smacked the two boys on the back.

“We were just getting acquainted with our best mate’s girlfriend,” Mattheo teased as Theo raised his arm pretending to hit him, making Mattheo duck.

“Girlfriend? Please, you and I both know I don’t do none of that,” Theo rolled his eyes and the trio walked over to their table.

“Lucky her, you’re not exactly boyfriend material yourself,” Enzo replied as they took their seats grabbing their lunches before quidditch practice. The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up, they needed all the fuel they could get before Malfoy made them run what felt like 100 laps during practice.

“What are you talking about? I'm the epitome of it,” Theo replied confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich. Sandwich was a bit dry, Italians do it better.

“Right, someone bring Hannah over for questioning,” Mattheo laughed as Theo glared at him.

“We never dated, I don’t owe her anything.”

____________________

“IT’S SO COLD!” You let out a high pitched scream as a huge gust of wind blew right into your face. You had a sweater that you knitted yourself on, paired with a skirt and black tights along with a designer scarf you had searched the whole country for. It was late October, but you hadn’t expected the weather to drop this low. Maybe you should’ve worn your winter coat or opted for a bigger scarf. Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. That was the original plan until Cho had managed to convince you to attend. You didn’t really understand quidditch. The whole game seemed complicated to you, plus the whole flying really high and the possibilities of students getting hurt didn’t sit well with your stomach. But you came regardless and it seemed to make Cho very happy.

“I KNOW BUT WE HAVE SUCH GOOD SEATS!” Cho screamed over the loud clapping and cheering that signaled that the game was about to start. Loud screaming, another thing you weren’t a huge fan of.

“HERE!” Cho screamed as she took her earmuffs off and placed them on your head.

“YOU MIGHT NEED THEM MORE THAN I DO!” She yelled before turning her attention back to the game.

One by one players in either red or green began to fly out. Everyone you were cheering as if it was a competition to see which side would be the loudest.

“GO HARRY! YEAH!” You heard Cedric shout from the other side of Cho.

You didn’t know any Gryffindors that well but since you were in a crowd of people all supporting that team, you didn’t want to stand out so you decided to clap along.

You recognized a few Slytherin players, the faces of the two boys who you had bumped into a few days earlier were spotted flying on broomsticks. You secretly clapped for them as well.

The mixture of red and green made your heart happy. Christmas. Your favorite holiday. Only two months to go! You couldn’t wait until you get to start putting together presents and drink peppermint mochas with your friends. It was all so exciting!

Focus on the game!

You scolded yourself. You look up and frown as you see players begin to grow aggressive. You frowned as a Gryffindor player tried to throw one of those flying balls at Lorenzo.

You knew it was part of the game but the fact that someone had almost harmed the nice boy made you want to reach for your wand.

“Yay go Enzo!” You cheered and clapped as you watched him dodge them with ease. A few Gryffindors side eyed you and gave you nasty stares but it was hard to pay them any mind with the distracting colors of ketchup and mustard wrapped around their necks.

Theo wanted to thank Berkshire, he really did. He wanted to thank him for providing him the strength to throw bludgers at Gryffindors. What was he doing stealing your attention like that? Last time he checked Berkshire was busy trying to ask out a Slytherin a year younger than them. He needs to leave you alone, you were his friend first. Maybe he should throw a bludger and knock Berkshire off his broom.

Would that be a Slytherin or Gryffindor point?

#theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts oc #hogwarts au #harry potter #slytherin #ravenclaw #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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luvgavii · 6 months ago

Text

color me jealous - (pg8)

summary: jealous pedri featuring rúben mf dias ;) (model!reader)

dedicated to all the pedri girls <3

You were smiling at your phone while you sipped on the expensive champagne, replaying your Instagram story over and over again, the imagine you posted of the flowers your boyfriend sent to your dressing room before your modelling show never failing to spread a smile to your face. But of course, your happy moment had to be interrupted.

Turning on your heels, a strong scent of perfume met your nose as two arms wrapped tightly around you, the elder woman air kissing your cheeks.

“you were absolutely beautiful up there, y/n!” The lady, one of whom dresses you wore tonight spoke in an elegant voice yet thick accent you could only recognise as french.

“thank you! the dress was beautiful,” you smiled brightly, the woman giving your hands a squeeze, whispering another few rounds of praises before disappearing somewhere in the gallery to mingle with the rest of the stuck up, posh people. You knew you had to join them, but your thoughts were filled with one person only.

You looked around, your eyes scanning every table, every single corner of the big gallery for Pedri, yet you could not spot him anywhere.

A frown crept to your face, a thousand thoughts filling your mind.

‘did he leave early?’

‘why would he leave before coming up to you, kissing you and telling you he’s proud of you?’

‘maybe he had a football emergency?’

‘football emergency this late?’

“I saw Pedri outside taking a phone call a few minutes ago,” the familiar voice of Rúben Dias came from behind you, making your eyes widen as you whipped your head around, meeting Rúben’s warm smile and eyes.

“Rú? What are you doing here?” You asked, a chuckle escaping your lips as you went in to hug the tall man.

Rúben laughed, wrapping his arms around you before speaking, “As if I’d miss out on seeing you on that runway,” his smile could almost reach his ears as he looked down at you.

While any other girl would absolutely melt under Rúben’s eyes, you always made sure to keep a respectful distance, first because you had Pedri who was your person in every possible way and second because you didn’t want to fuel into Rúben’s flirting too much. You were loving the attention, though.

“thank you! I appreciate it,” you smiled, you were happy to see him, the last time you two had hung out was a long time ago when you were modelling in England, but the Man City player always seemed to have some interest in you, even before you started going out with Pedri a few months ago.

You and Rúben have always been friendly, sure, he was always playful flirting with you, but whatever attraction you had felt for the portuguese has quickly disappeared when you met Pedri. As soon as Rúben had posted a picture of the two of you at the gala, arms wrapped around your shoulders as your hand rested on his chest, the fans and media went wild.

It didn’t take long for the fans to figure out where the location of the after party of your modelling agency took place, and while Pedri was on the phone with his manager, he couldn’t help the frown on his face when the fans a few feet away were chanting Rúben Dias’ name.

You met Pedri almost six months ago when your best friend insisted on going to a Barcelona game, and while you didn’t know much about football at the time, your interest was quickly growing when you saw the man who wore number 8. With the help of a friend of a friend, who happened to be married to one of the players, you stuck around long enough to meet them after the game and you and Pedri became inseparable ever since.

He was confused as to why in the world there were people holding Man City jerseys, chanting the name of another football player, until he checked Instagram and saw the photo that was now on every gossip page. People were speculating, asking if you and him had broken up so short after hard launching your relationship and Pedri hated that more than he liked to admit. He hated being in the spotlight with things like these but he hated even more the way Rúben fucking Dias held his arm around you.

Back inside, you were laughing at whatever Rúben had said, your head falling back and your nose scrunching in that adorable way Pedri always said he adores.

Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, your mind repeated over and over again.

Your eyes met across the room, his brown eyes softening when your gazes locked. His eyes hid some kind of harshness in them, and you could immediately tell that there was something bothering him, and that something happened to start with an ‘R’ and end with an ‘úben’.

While it was morally wrong to fuel Pedri’s jealousy, you couldn’t help yourself and keeping your boyfriend on his toes wouldn’t hurt.

Your palm pressed against Rúben’s bicep as you leaned up to whisper something in his ear, Pedri’s eye twitching while he watched from afar, wondering what the hell you could’ve said that got Rúben smiling so brightly. He clenched the glass of whiskey harder in his hands until his knuckles turned white and for a second Pedri considered calling Gavi to help him commit murder, knowing his best friend would definitely help dig away the body.

“you’re really trying to tick Pedri off, huh?” Rúben laughed, making you chuckle and making Pedri picture his murder in graphic detail.

“he’s really sweet, I like it when he gets a bit rough and jealous sometimes,” you laughed, shaking your head at Rúben, your eyes meeting the familiar chocolate brown orbs.

“what, like, throw you to the wall rough?” Rúben raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the smile that spread to his lips.

“no, not like that,” you laughed knowing you were not about to discuss your sex life with Rúben, at the after party of your show.

“mi amor?” you heard the soft, familiar voice calling out for you, both you and Rúben turning to see Pedri.

He looked almost sad, and you couldn’t help the pain in your chest when you saw that disappointed glimmer in your boyfriend’s eyes which was probably because you barely got to see him after the show. The quicky in your dressing room before hitting the runway was good tho.

“can I talk to you for a second?” Pedri dragged his voice, his eyes falling from Rúben to you, not caring how rude the other football player might consider him, “alone.”

You nodded and bid Rúben goodbye, thanking him for coming. Pedri was still a golden retriever, so even if he was slightly pissed off because you paid so much attention to Rúben, he still shook his hand.

“looking forward to that friendly,” Rúben said with a slight tease in his voice, making Pedri clench his jaw, he barely recognized himself, he was never this jealous.

“I’m looking forward to rearranging your jaw—“ Pedri muttered under his breath as you and him walked away, his words caused you to laugh and hit his shoulder.

“can you not? he was nice to you,” you chuckled, stopping in a secluded spot in the gallery.

“by flirting with you all night? damn, we have different definitions for ‘nice’,” Pedri huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

Jealousy, rage and so much love and affection was in them. No matter how much you annoyed him, Pedri never seemed to be able to lash out at you and that was the greenest flag you could think of.

“you did that on purpose didn’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when you smiled cheekily, your arms wrapping around his waist and your chin resting on his chest, “you’re so annoying,” Pedri mumbled when he realised all that overly friendly stuff with Rúben was an act.

“you love meee,” you chuckled, laughing at Pedri’s narrowed eyes, knowing he was either plotting your murder or thinking of how to get you back.

His lips curled into a grin, his nose rubbing against yours as he spoke against your lips, “too much, mi estrella.”

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 4 months ago

Text

[12:22 pm]

Husband!Taeyong’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, deciding this would be a good time for a break from boxing up everything you both decided you were going to donate. His brows furrows seeing your name on his screen. Weren’t you in the house with him? Why wouldn’t you just come tell him instead of texting him? ‘You’re not going to believe what I just found!’ He read with a smile.

He heard your hurried steps on the hardwood floor of the hall and soon enough you were standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a bright smile and a colorful book in your hands. As you walked closer, Taeyong reached for you grabbing your hips to guide you to stand between his spread thighs. “What did you find, honey?” Taeyong asks, pressing a kiss to your arm.

“My diary! It’s got some entries from our first 2 years together!” You beam.

“Oooh, juicy stuff?” Taeyong asks with a quirked brow.

You clear your throat and crack the journal open, “this is from 5 years ago, ready?” Taeyong nods, but his mind is reeling, you guys didn’t know each other five years ago, what could you have written about him? Your voice interrupts his train of thought, “Today, I went to the cafe with Minho. While Minho and I were waiting for our drinks, the most handsome guy I’ve ever laid eyes on came up and started talking to Minho. I guess they took a class together a while ago. This guy didn’t look at me the whole time, but I think I’m in love. Who would ever believe that I saw a man this handsome in real life and not a magazine? Even though he didn’t look at me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to think about him for the rest of my life. Minho said his name is Taeyong. I’m writing this so I have some happy memory of a handsome guy to return to when I’m sad.”

You look down at your husband, “I guess I was a little dramatic, huh?”

“I don’t even remember that! What else do you have?” Taeyong asks eagerly. He wishes he could go back in time to introduce himself properly, he could have had a whole extra year with you. Ugh!

“This is from four years ago, from that dinner that Minho held. I wrote, oh my literal god! You are never going to believe this! The handsome guy from the cafe was at Minho’s party and he spoke to me! There’s like a whole row of exclamation points here,” both you and Taeyong snort out a laugh before continuing, “his voice was so gentle and his hand was sooooo soft when we shook hands. We made conversation about school and our interests. He told me he likes to make music and make art and I told him I’d love to see his work, talk about thirsty. He had a really cute smile on his face and I swear I saw him blush! He told me he’d like to show me and before the night ended we exchanged numbers. I think there’s a higher possibility of us falling in love now. I hope he’s not actually a creep.”

Taeyong pulls you into his lap as he laughs loudly, “I remember that meeting, thank goodness. I remember that you were really cute and shy. And that Minho can’t cook to save his life. I was really excited to text you after that, but I wanted to be chill.”

“I think I ended up writing that after a week of nothing from you I gave up hope a little. I thought maybe you were like a figment of my imagination or maybe I read into it too much,” you sigh as if you’re reliving the memories while turning through the now warped pages.

For a while, the two of you sit there in comfortable silence reading through your entries. He reads and laughs good-naturedly ay the entry that describes the anxiety before your first date in detail and in drawing. Half the page is a messy scribble of words he can barely read, and the other half is scribbles that he can very well imagine you screaming while you drew. There’s a whole page of scribbles and ‘ahhhhhh’ filling up the whole page after the first date/first kiss which makes him smile softly while pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

He finds himself holding you closer, his arms around your waist tightening as his eyes pore over the words of a three-page long entry that came after your first big fight. You’d tried to skip past this, but he pulled the book out of your hold. ‘Tonight, Taeyong and I got in our first fight and I don’t think my heart has ever hurt this badly. I just don’t understand why he left! All I told him was that I needed some space to think and he took that as me wanting him gone. He just turned on his heel and left! I just wanted like 5 minutes to gather myself! Why would he just leave?’ Taeyong’s thumb sadly runs over the obvious mark of a tear drop.

He remembered this fight, he could remember the reason, but he remembers the aftermath. He remembers all the work that came after so that you two could communicate effectively. He remembers promising to never walk away in the middle of the fight and to never go three days thought talking to you again.

He closes the journal as sets it beside him while pulling you into an embrace, “we’ve made it far haven’t we?”

“Yeah, now I don’t freak out like scared chicken before our dates,” you laugh into his chest.

Taeyong laughs deeply, “I meant our communication, but sure.”

“Taeyong, we’ve been together for like four years, of course we’ve learned to communicate. We’ve learned a lot of things about each other. Each and every thing I learn just makes me love you more.”

He furrows his brows, “you didn’t like it when I bleached my eyebrows.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That wasn’t a good look. I hated that!” You exclaim, standing from his lap to assess the work he’s gotten done. “You’ve done a good job so far,” you nod.

“We’ve done a good job so far,” Taeyong stresses.

“That was cute, but I meant the clothes, honey.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong fluff #taeyong timestamps #taeyong blurbs #Taeyong Drabble

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chanranghaeys · 1 month ago

Text

☀️ the boy who was the sun

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

pairing: lee seokmin x gn!reader word count: 1.6k+ genre: angst to comfort to fluff rating: g tags: exes to second-chance lovers, implied breakup off the page, dk is like the sun :(, sunsets are also beginnings warnings: mentions of family and career pressure

a/n: this is completely inspired by @svtreverie and her words, in turn inspired by hozier’s “shrike,” so in turn i have lifted some passages from you and your brain. i love you, c. please note that i started this in april 2024 because of you, and i finally have the chance to finish it now. i dedicate this to you. dedications also to fellow cuties g @tusswrites and @miniseokminnies bc i can hehe. happy dokyeom day! ☀️

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The sunset came upon you suddenly as you turned the corner, the sun coming out from behind the buildings that shielded its setting rays. You always thought that the sun shined brighter when it set, as sunrises were always softer. Besides, you never really caught the rising of the sun as a self-professed night owl, waking up when it was already high above the world at its peak.

It was the peak of the golden hour. Today, it was a hazy rose gold mixed with pinks and purples that were still warm with the glow of day. You preferred sunsets this way, calmer and less harsh than the torrid streaks of red, yellow, and orange. You wondered what was so special about the past few hours for your eyes to be blessed with this sight.

You didn’t frequent this city often, but that has changed recently. In past years, you used to come here as a young adult starting out in the corporate life. You would wait for your father to fetch you after work so you could come home to a house that lacked a certain warmth, a warmth that you have only felt in numbered moments—memories that were branded in your mind, with some that you’d rather forget.

But time has changed you, and you now shadow your father’s footsteps as next in line to his company. It took a while for you to—as your parents put it—“come to your senses,” but fate had you surrender to it. Your feet moved on impulse as you followed your father’s footsteps, denying that it was against your will.

Besides, did you really have a choice in the matter? In the end, nothing did, anyway.

Today you were alone, and the end of the work day allowed you to finally take a deep breath in this corner green of the bustling business district. Some voice in your head told you to take a walk rather than book a car to take you straight home to the solace of your room in the cover of night.

Maybe subconsciously, you were also looking for the motion of your feet in a place separated from the confines of your comfort zone. Just for today.

The park was busier than usual, with more people both strolling and rushing on opposite sides of intersecting paths. Thankfully, you found solace in the anonymity that the crowd provided you; The joggers in their pace, the kids blowing bubbles at their parents’ faces, the dog walkers and cat lovers, the cliques that perched on their picnic blankets—no one knew who you were, the heir to one of the country’s largest conglomerates. A title whose weight you wish was never hung on your shoulders.

You looked up at the sky once more, savoring the brief moment that nature’s canvas was showing everyone before it was swallowed by the inevitable dark. Phones were raised and camera lenses pointed at the stunning scene in an attempt to capture the fleeting phenomenon. You decide to do the same.

You snap the sky at every angle, finding the best one you can while turning around in place. You realize that you must’ve looked so silly doing so, but again, no one knew who you were anyway. Just when you thought you were satisfied, you raise your phone once more for one final photo. You look at the screen and through the lens of your phone camera, you see him.

Wait a minute. You shake your head and lower your phone to look at the person with your own eyes, making sure that they aren’t deceiving you. They weren’t.

He was in front of you, a few meters away. He was transfixed by the colors above him, doing the exact same thing you were doing just moments ago—but you knew even until now that he’d work harder for the photo. He wasn’t using a phone, but his trusty mirrorless camera snapping away at the sky. He lowers the camera to eye level, capturing the chaos through his lens of calm.

His lens traveled, looking for the next subject to immortalize in a photo. Before you knew it, the lens was aimed right at you.

He froze.

You could just imagine the thoughts going through his head as he lowered his camera. You didn’t care if you were standing in the way because you couldn’t see anyone but him.

Him. The boy who was the sun—your sun. The boy whose light was so bright that it was blinding that it always hurt, but in a good way.

The boy whose light was so bright and blinding, that in the end it just hurt.

Instinct took over. And while it hurt your heart to do it again, you looked down and turned around, away from the only source of light to ever grace your life.

Because you could not do it any longer.

You could not burden him with pressures that were beyond his control. You could not bring him back into a world where the only words for him were, "You don't belong." You could not let him back into the darkness you have made for yourself. You could not protect him from yourself if he reenters the tall walls you have built around you.

In the corner of your eye, you see him start to move, and you begin walking as quick as you can. Your mind started to fill with thoughts you worked so hard to push away—thoughts, memories, unspoken words, and everything else that was for him and no one else.

You refuse to believe the heavy footsteps growing louder as they neared you. You refuse to believe that he would actually still reach for you after the way you pushed him away all those years ago. And even when you felt the grip of a hand on yours, you still refused to believe that it was his fingers and his palms that caught your wrist, how naturally it fit, closing around it as if was a sheath to your sharp edges.

You hear it—your name from his voice, so indelible in your mind, for all its lilts and tones when he both spoke and sang. His voice, that you have not heard in five years, immediately brought you back to the day you first met and all the days since then.

His voice that, in one second, immediately broke down the walls that you put up around yourself since that last day.

You find your voice, surprising yourself that you did. “Seokmin. Hi.” You were breathless, and your voice showed it.

“Hi.” He replied, and he smiled, the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, breaking out from his face, one that could not hide the pure emotion. “I’m so happy to see you here.”

Before you could register what happened, you found yourself replying involuntarily, “Me too.”

And with that simple statement, something shifted in you.

Five years have changed you, there’s no doubt about that. And in those five years, you’ve come to terms with the painful truth behind why you let him go, with the question of “Why?” still haunting your every moment of regret.

On the worst nights, you find yourself wrapped in the jacket he put around your shoulders for the last time, right before you parted. The one that granted you his faithfully unfailing warmth in the cold, grateful it was there to catch your tears.

On the best days, you absentmindedly hum the tune from the LUCY song he said was his favorite, the one that you came to love just as much as he did. Whether you knew it or not, he was still in everything you did.

Because one thing you knew and you were sure of—you loved him, with every piece and fiber within you. You loved him hard, too hard, so much so to the point that you had no choice but to let him go.

Yet here you are, with the life-shattering realization that you still love him, titles and labels and families and the whole world be damned, because the man standing in front of you was the same man who still had his heart on his sleeve. You could see it in his smile.

How fitting that you meet him once again under a sky that casts a million colors, the same way that your life turned into a million colors all at once from the moment you first met him?

In the midst of the crowd and the afterglow of the sunset, in a place where you could trust to remain unseen and unknown, you find once again the only person who was and is still the light in your darkest days. How could you have ever denied this plain and simple truth?

It was with his smile that you felt it again—it was so bright that it was blinding, and an ache in your heart spasmed at the warmth that spread from it. It hurt, as it always did these past years, but now…it was in a good way again.

The setting sun gave way to the dusk. Artificial light replaced the natural glow of the day to keep the surroundings lit. But underneath its canopy, you couldn’t help the light blooming again from within you, slowly making its way to the smile that formed on your lips.

With the glimmer of this newfound light, you resolve to fight every single instinct within you—to walk away, to move your feet in the opposite direction, to run from the feelings that you have always avoided.

You start small, with one, two steps towards him. You could whisper, and he would hear it because he knew that as long as it came from you, it didn’t need to be shouted. He knew that you’d fly like a bird to him now if you could.

Because nothing else but your truth can illuminate the path ahead of you. And your truth was standing right in front of you.

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months ago

Text

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter One|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

Summary: Between working cases at Nelson, Murdock, and Page and combating crime as Daredevil in Hell’s Kitchen at night, Matt had little time for much else. Until a new neighbor moves in across the hall and you attract his attention with your odd behavior. But when your quiet four year old doesn't just befriend the Devil–she unravels his biggest secret–Matt only grows closer and more protective of the both of you. Inevitably he learns the truth of your past, but that's not what surprises him most. It's a favor you ask of the Devil–a favor that initially leaves Matt conflicted.

a/n: This is a story I've had in my head for quite a few months now and have steadily been working on for a bit for myself, but now I've decided to share it. I've spent quite a bit of time outlining and fleshing out the story--more than I usually do. As always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana

“And that's the end,” you said.

Closing the book in your lap, you glanced up from the brightly colored illustrations of animals on the back cover to your daughter who sat clutching Barnabas, the stuffed teddy bear that she never went to bed without. Her eyes had grown wide and hopeful as they held your gaze–a look you'd long since become familiar with. It was the same one she always gave you when she was about to stall in an attempt to avoid her inevitable bedtime. And it often worked on you, whether she realized it or not.

“Again?” Evelyn asked softly, a little hand reaching out towards the book. “Please, mama?”

“Cricket,” you replied gently, glad to hear she was stringing more words together tonight despite the excitement of this evening's move. “I've already read it five times now. I think it's time we put it away for tonight and you get to sleep.”

Evelyn's face fell at your answer and the sight pained you. It didn’t help that you knew just how anxious she'd been the entire weekend with all the big changes you both had going on yet again. She'd spent the past week barely saying more than a single word because of it.

“The book will still be here tomorrow,” you promised her. “We can read it again then.”

“Helps me sleep,” she whispered.

The growing frown curving her lips downwards and the little crease forming between her furrowed brows tugged at your heart. Especially with how she looked so small tucked inside the too-large sleeping bag you'd recently purchased at a thrift store. It looked as if she was being swallowed up by the giant purple thing considering she didn't even take up half the length of it.

Sighing, you felt your resolve fading the longer she stared up at you with her pleading eyes. With everything that you'd both been through over the past few months, and how you'd already felt guilty for all of the things you'd done wrong and hadn't been able to give her–which included an actual bed to sleep in once you'd gotten this apartment–you knew you wouldn't be able to resist that look. The very least you could do was read the book to her for a sixth time.

Leaning back once more against the bedroom wall behind you, you settled in for another few minutes on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright,” you relented. “I can read it just one more time for you, cricket. But then you've got to promise me something. Can you do that?”

The expression on her face changed, her small nose slightly scrunching up as her head turned to the side. “What?” she asked.

“Promise me that you'll actually go to sleep when I'm done,” you said, reaching a hand out to lightly ruffle her hair. “Because it's late and you've got your first day of preschool in the morning. Remember?”

“Oh,” she whispered, visibly sinking lower into the sleeping bag.

You frowned. She'd been nervous for that, too.

“Hey,” you said, your hand smoothing her hair before coming to gently rest along her shoulder. “You'll have fun there, I promise. I know it can seem scary going somewhere new, but you've been doing a great job adjusting to all the new things we've been through already. And you'll make friends, Evie. It'll be alright, I promise.”

The doleful look on her face didn't waver despite your attempt to comfort her. You hoped that beginning preschool tomorrow in conjunction with yet another move didn't set her back to nonverbal responses again. Guilt burned inside of you at the thought of how much your previous situation had led her to become so timid and quiet, afraid to use her own voice. It didn't matter that everyone at Hope Haven had tried to reassure you that none of what you'd been through was your fault, that you had done everything you could when you could. That didn't stop you from still feeling wholly responsible.

You should have seen it coming. Should have done something sooner.

But that was in the past now.

“And after work I'll pick you up and bring you back home with me,” you told her, trying to lighten her mood. “We can eat tonight's leftover pizza for dinner. And maybe I can get us some ice cream on the way home. How does that sound, cricket?”

Evelyn's hands began fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag, rolling it up between her small fingers. Her eyes remained downcast, avoiding yours. You knew she often fidgeted when she was anxious, a habit that just seemed wrong for a four year old to have acquired.

“Is this home?” she asked.

The ever present guilt in your stomach burned, your chest tightening at the unexpected and loaded question. You hated that she worried about things that no four year old should be worrying about, too. Another thing that was all your fault.

Expression softening, you nodded. “Yeah, Evie,” you answered, your hand dropping down to wrap around her little one that was still fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag. “This is home. We're staying here. Hopefully for a long, long time.”

Glancing up at you from beneath her lashes, you could see the expression on her face had yet again changed. This time she was staring up at you with a look that you absolutely hated seeing on her little face. One full of fear and uncertainty. A particular memory flashed through your mind at the sight of it and the acid in your stomach had a wave of nausea hitting you. Eyes briefly dropping down to the scar across the back of your right hand, you tried to fight back the tremble that had begun in it.

“We're safe?” Evie asked.

Attempting to swallow down the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, you nodded. You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though it felt like your heart was shattering in that moment. Because after all, it had also been your fault that it had taken so long to get the pair of you somewhere safe.

“Yes,” you stated, your trembling hand gripping the book in your lap tighter in an attempt to calm the quivering. “We're safe here. Don't ever worry about that, alright? That's for me to worry about. And I will always make sure you're safe. You hear me? Always .”

There was a long pause before she very slowly nodded her head just once. Your left hand patted hers tenderly, sending her what was meant to be a reassuring smile. You hoped it had been, because you'd been doing your best to appear more put together than you actually felt lately. You didn't need Evie to be worrying about anything else.

“So,” you said, trying to change the topic, “I guess we should get back to finishing our bedtime story, huh?”

Evie nodded vigorously, pushing herself more upright in her sleeping bag, her expectant eyes on you. You sent her another smile before clearing your throat and focusing back down on the book in your lap. Opening it once more with your still quivering hand, you tried to push the bad memories from your mind as you began to read in an animated voice.

It wasn't until four pages later that you'd glanced up at Evie. She had leaned over to see the pictures in the book while you read, all traces of fear gone from her face. Instead, she looked enraptured in the story that you knew she had completely memorized by now with how often you'd read it to her. There was a ghost of a smile on her face as she cuddled Barnabas tightly to her chest. And in that moment your heart felt full of hope.

Running a hand across your forehead, you paced your way around the mostly unfurnished apartment you'd just moved into this evening. The sparseness of the place was truthfully embarrassing. Currently all you had was Evie's sleeping bag, a blanket and lumpy pillow set aside by Evie’s bedroom door which would be your bed for the foreseeable future, and the empty boxes tossed around what would someday hopefully be a living room. For now it was just a large, empty room beside the small, empty kitchen.

As you paced around another overturned, half-broken down cardboard box, your shoulders dropped. You'd managed to pack all of Evelyn's and yours’ belongings in those boxes now lying discarded on the floor. Just six boxes fit your entire life. You certainly hadn't had much when you'd grabbed Evelyn and ran those couple of months ago. Just one garbage bag filled with mostly her clothes and things with a few of yours mixed in. Though even if you'd had time to pack more, there wouldn't have been much else to bring with you because neither of you’d ever had much to begin with.

And now here you were struggling to afford the very little you had as it was, no matter how desperately you were trying to stretch your measly new salary. It pained you to not be able to provide properly for you and your daughter. You remembered how you’d felt that very last night you'd stayed at Hope Haven, the women's shelter that you’d be forever grateful for taking the pair of you in and helping you start your new life.

Long after Evelyn had gone to sleep on your last night there, you'd laid awake in bed crying quietly to yourself as you stared at that damn purple sleeping bag mocking you from across the room. You’d felt like a terrible mother–for more than one reason. As tears ran down your cheeks, you’d vowed to save up to buy Evie a bed, doing whatever you needed to until you could. You'd give her that at least, even if it meant skipping meals whenever you could to save the extra cash. But honestly, you found yourself already often having to skip meals just so you could afford to keep Evie fed.

Pausing in your aimless pacing, you came to a stop beside one of the large windows in the living room. Placing a hand against the cool glass, you looked outside at the city. Your eyes inevitably found their way to the massive billboard positioned on the building across the street which hung at precisely your apartment's height. But fortunately for you the eyesore was more directly across from the apartment next door to yours, making it less noticeable and disruptive from your view. Though you had no choice but to feel grateful for the hideous thing because it had been the sole reason you'd gotten such a reduced rent in the first place. Otherwise you'd never have been able to afford a place in a relatively safe area of Hell’s Kitchen.

As you blankly stared outside at the billboard, watching the advertisements change from one to the next, you hoped things would be different here. Better. Because both you and Evie needed that. Your daughter needed a stable place to live, one she felt safe coming home to for once, and you desperately wanted to provide that for her. With every fiber of your being you hoped that this place would finally become the home you'd been struggling to create since the day she was born.

Pushing away from the glass, you rubbed at your tired eyes. It was late and you knew you should probably get some sleep yourself now that Evie had finally fallen asleep a little while ago. But the prospect of sleeping on the cold, hard floor with nothing but a singular blanket and pillow didn't sound that appealing. You certainly weren't rushing to get to sleep yourself.

Making your way back across the apartment, you reluctantly picked up the blanket and pillow from the ground. Carrying both of them over towards the closed door of Evelyn's bedroom, you set the pillow down. With both hands you tossed the blanket out, splaying it wide across the floor. You realized it was probably ridiculous sleeping in front of her bedroom door like this, especially because there was another bedroom, but it made you feel better. Because laying here, you knew that you were between your daughter and anyone who might come through the front door–namely one person in particular.

Not that he even knew where you were.

Beginning to lower yourself to the floor, preparing to get some rest, movement caught your attention out of the kitchen window across the room. You stopped instantly, head spinning fully towards the window as you sat half-crouched like a startled animal. Adrenaline and fear spiked through you as your eyes caught a shadow darting across the neighboring rooftop. For a moment you could have sworn the shadow had been shaped like a person, but as you scanned the rooftop now, you didn't see anything at all.

Shaking your head, you blinked hard a couple of times as you finally sunk to the floor. You had to have been seeing things because you were overtired and on edge. That's all it was. There was no reason for someone to be running along a rooftop late at night.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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mysteryshoptls · 3 months ago

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SSR Jade Leech - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Mostro Lounge]

Jade: …I see. I've grasped the information you've just brought me. I shall inform Azul about it immediately.

Jamil: Seriously. Why'd I have to be the one stuck coming all the way to the Mostro Lounge to deliver the Headmage's message?

Jade: Heh, my sincerest apologies. I'm afraid our esteemed manager likes to scold us if we are on our phones during work.

Jamil: And what's that manager of yours doing, anyway? If I could've just been able to get in contact with him, I wouldn't have had to come all the way here.

Jade: He is conducting business in the VIP Room. I'm sure he's turned off his phone so as to not be rude to his guest.

Jade: Although, I suppose it's a shame. I rather would have had you come tomorrow instead of today, Jamil-san.

Jamil: Tomorrow? Is there something going on tomorrow? …No, nevermind. Forget I asked.

Jade: ACTUALLY, YOU SEE! It is our birthday tomorrow.

Jamil: Whew. I was a little worried as to what it could've been… But yeah, I guess it is your guys' birthday tomorrow.

Jamil: Good thing I came today, then.

Jamil: Who knows what'd you two'd be bugging me about if I actually came on the day of.

Jade: I would never bug you… I would have been content with a simple birthday greeting.

Jamil: Yeah, sure. Though I'm pretty sure your brother wouldn't let me slide with just a few words.

Jamil: Maybe I should prepare something ahead of time before things get dicey… Alright then, I'll be heading back now.

Jamil: Thanks for passing on the message to Azul. And… Have a good birthday.

Jade: Of course, thank you very much.

Jade: We look forward to serving you again. Please return home safely.

Jade: Phew, it seems all the customers have finally left. Today was yet another successfully busy day.

Jade: Now then, everyone, I leave cleaning of the lounge to you all. I'll go take stock of inventory…

[Octavinelle Student A appears]

Jade: Oh? I'm pretty sure your duty station was in the kitchen was it not? You should be starting to close everything down, why are you here in the lounge?

Jade: Floyd should be in the kitchen today, as well. Don't come to me if you've made him ang... [Octavinelle Student A speaks] Eh? Floyd got bored and left?

Jade: Well then, I suppose I'll head towards the kitchen. I'll leave it to all of you to finish cleaning the lounge.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Jade's Room]

[Floyd speaks]

Jade: Ah, Floyd. Because you left as you did, the kitchen was in such disarray.

[Floyd speaks]

Jade: …Oh my, you saw through me immediately.

Jade: Everyone finished their tasks quite efficiently after I kindly spoke with them.

[Floyd speaks]

Jade: Heh, it seems I'll be able to take my time to enjoy my little hobbies today. I'll have to be quick with my shower.

Jade: Now…

Jade: What should I start with tonight?

[Octavinelle Dorm – Jade's Room]

Jade: First, I'll check up on my terrariums… Ah no, the moss is starting to dry out.

Jade: I should water it well. I'll pour some water into the spray bottle, and…

[spray, spray]

Jade: …This looks fine enough. The moss is looking good and moist.

Jade: It looks almost completely different from when it was dried up… Fufu, I don't think I could ever get tired of observing moss like this.

Jade: …......

Jade: …AH, WH-WHAT'S THIS!?

Jade: The rock that I had been carefully observing for so long… It's covered in some green substance that I'm sure wasn't there this morning!

Jade: This color, this shape…!! It looks very similar to what I saw on page 487 of my Moss Encyclopedia.

[slams book open]

Jade: "When dry, the fronds become as spindly as thread; when moist, they take on a unique appearance."

Jade: "This moss is exceedingly rare, and as such the exact location and environment most suitable for growth is not well known."

Jade: Aah… As I expected…! It was absolutely worth observing this flora, without knowing if it was even a type of moss or not.

Jade: Look here, Floyd! I've obtained a rare species of moss!

[Floyd flips a page in his book]

Jade: He's… Reading, I see. It is a shame that I cannot share this exciting occasion with him, but I suppose I shouldn't press it today.

Jade: It would truly be regrettable if I brought about his ire and he damaged this rare specimen in the process.

Jade: Oh yes, I cannot just leave it like this. I should take a picture and jot down its information in my notebook!

Jade: Ah, right, I suppose I should fill this out while I am at my desk, as well.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jade: Quality of life improvements, hm… I think I would wish for a more suitable environment to raise my terrariums.

Jade: Just because a place is suitable for humans to live in, that does not mean that plants or moss will thrive in the same way.

Jade: I've had plants wither away in the shade without knowing that they require a location bathed in sunlight…

Jade: I've even had mushrooms grow from the moss simply because the temperature and humidity were too high…

Jade: That incident was the absolute worst.

Jade: When I returned to my room, the mushroom spores had spread so fervently that the terrarium was completely unsalvageable…

Jade: The cause of that disaster was painfully apparent. It was all due to the fact that I could not control the temperature, humidity, nor the necessary daylight in my room.

Jade: In order to resolve such issues, it would be best to ensure everyone has their own room, regardless of year…

Jade: Or, at the very least, I'd like it if we could partition the rooms completely.

Jade: If only because there was one time that I had purchased a large humidifier, but Floyd broke it, saying he hated how muggy it made the room.

Jade: If we were able to have our individual spaces, then I could install a humidifier, a heater, or even add more windows to regulate natural light… AH!

Jade: Right, Octavinelle is located underwater, so we would also have to take into account levels of salt in the air.

Jade: I'll put "The buildings should be reinforced to be resistant to salt pollution." …Or perhaps I should just request that the whole dormitory be protected by a stronger layer of magic…

Jade: …Hm, there isn't much space to write my response on this survey. I even had to fully utilize the reverse side of the paper.

Jade: If I were able to provide a better environment for the moss to thrive in, then we should be able to increase their number and spread them even further. Heh, and thus my dreams are spread further.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Jade's Room]

Jade: …..

[Jade's eyes snap open]

Jade: It seems I've awoken before my alarm today, as well.

Jade: I'm sure Floyd won't wake for some time, so I should go and freshen up while I can.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Washroom]

Jade: It stays unruly even if I wet it… Haah, it seems my bedhead today is a stubborn foe.

Jade: I'll leave fixing my hair until the end, so for now, I should focus on my makeup routine.

Jade: The most important thing to take into account is protecting my skin from the sun. Sunscreen is to be applied evenly everywhere… Ah, yes, and I cannot forget my ears, either.

Jade: After that, I'll do my eye makeup, and apply a lip balm with further sunscreen protection…

Jade: Now, we get down to this unruly hair… I'll turn on the hair iron…

Jade: I'll grab the end of the length by my ear and move the flat iron down towards my fingertips while trying to give it a light curl.

Jade: …

Jade: …It came out too straight.

Jade: I thought I had twisted the end properly… I suppose I did not curl it enough. I'll try again…

Jade: …This time the strands are too springy, I must have added too much of a curl.

Jade: It seems my opponent is a fierce one this morning… How fascinating. I shall meet them head on.

Jade: After all, making a proper "J" is a difficult task… One that I find extremely worthwhile!

[Octavinelle Dorm – Jade's Room]

Jade: After fixing my hair, next is my usual… Wonderful, everything has come out perfectly.

Jade: Not a single wrinkle to be found. Ahh… I do love to see freshly ironed shirts in the morning.

Jade: I can feel my own mood slowly get better with each wrinkle smoothed out of my clothes.

Jade: Now, I just need to iron my handkerchief.

Jade: A black handkerchief, without any embroideries. A gentleman's elegance.

Jade: Now then, it is still rather early… I should head towards the dormitory lounge and enjoy a cup of tea by myself.

Jade: It might be nice to try some of the tea leaves that I've received recently today. After all, it is my birthday.

[Main Street]

Jade: Good morning, Jamil-san. What a coincidence, running into you in a place like this.

Jamil: How is it a coincidence? We're sophomores on our way to class, so it wouldn't be strange to meet up like this.

Jade: …

Jamil: What's with that look?

Jamil: Yeah, I know. Happy Birthday. …You just wanted to hear me say that, right?

Jade: Heheh, thank you. Just from hearing your well wishes, I think today will end up being a wonderful day.

Requested by @thelonepearl and @sakurakudo.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #jamil viper #floyd leech #twst jade #twst jamil #twst floyd #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: azul #mention: crowley

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mcverse · 2 years ago

Note

hi!!!! i have a req for neteyam x na’vi reader with a “marriage of convenience” trope. where reader does genuinely try to make it work with neteyam, but after months of being shut down she stops trying after talking to kiri. neteyam has always treated reader as a duty to be fulfilled, but LOWKEY has feelings for her he keeps SUPPRESSSSEDDDDD. however, after one of readers good friends from another clan visits, neteyams jealousy gets hold of him. you could make the rest however you’d like, but happy ending please🫶🏽

Pairings: Neteyam x F! Na’vi! Reader

Type: One Shot

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, slight jealous, not proof read, edited to fix mess ups

Side Bar: You’re amazing for requesting this! Thank you!!!

Avatar Masterlist

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I can't monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ I advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.

Love, that elusive and mysterious emotion, has captivated you since you first heard about it. The concept of love is a feeling of warmth, passion, and a connection that's deeper than anything else, impossible to ignore. It's terrifying and exhilarating, often filled with moments of joy, uncertainty, and vulnerability.

But falling in love? That's a whole different story. It's like the world suddenly shifts into a whole new perspective. Colors are brighter, sounds are louder, and everything you didn't care about before suddenly becomes beautiful and captivating.

Your thoughts, your mind, your body - everything is consumed by the object of your affection. No amount of daydreaming or silly little creepy crawlers in your tummy could ever prepare you for finally being seen by them, for being loved by them.

It's tragic that not everyone has the luxury of falling in love for themselves. In many clans, people come together for the benefits of both parties. Love becomes an afterthought when situations arise, and it breaks your heart. It's almost like love becomes foreign to them, despite having found it on their own.

But to be forced into a relationship of convenience, not truly knowing the other person, is frightening and challenging. They're a stranger, and it feels so wrong to love them. It's like they weren't made for you, like Eywa didn't create them for you. And it hurts. It's a deep, stabbing pain in your chest that never truly goes away.

Why is it that anyone but you is allowed to love who they want?

The thought reverberates in your mind, a constant reminder of the burden you bear. Love, the very essence of Na’vi emotion, was supposed to be a choice, a right, not a privilege granted by duty. But there you are, trapped in a loveless relationship, forced into a union that you never wanted.

"It's your duty," they told you, as if that was supposed to make it easier. As if it was supposed to alleviate the guilt and the pain. "You will learn to love Neteyam, the chief of the Omaticaya Clan." It was always for the greater good, always about the needs of the clan. "This alliance will strengthen the Na'vi, it is the will of your father."

But what about your will? What about your heart? You didn't want to learn to love someone; it wasn't realistic, it was forced. The very idea of it was distressing, and it made you sick just thinking about it.

You knew, deep down, that it wasn't about how you felt, though.

It was clear as you saw your future mate leave your shared hut hurriedly, feeling the weight of the unspoken understanding between you. He was just as much a victim of this situation as you were, and it was obvious that love was an afterthought to him, just as it was to your people. You were just a means to an end, a pawn in a game that you never asked to play.

But you had to play along, no matter how unbearable it got. You sought him out against your better judgement, watching him like always from the distance at first. It was justified, your future mate was intimidating in both height and build. If he wanted to, he could break you easily, ridding you of existence due to your constant annoyance over the past few months.

When you finally work up the nerve, the training session have ended and you use that time approach him, fiddling with the small basket of Yovo fruits, “Ma Neteyam,” you called out to him, grabbing his attention immediately.

He tenses up, his face hardening as he motions with his head for the last young warrior to leave before giving his attention back to you, “Ma [Name], what are you doing here?” He asked, eyes flickering to the basket. His hands twitched by his side but remained there.

“I knew you would be training hard, Neteyam, so I thought I'd bring you a treat," you said, smiling up at him. You cringed inwardly at how needy you must look, reminding yourself why you had to get along with him.

Neteyam's lips formed a tight line, and his forehead creased as if he were pondering something difficult. Finally, he bowed his head to you. "That's kind of you," he said, his eyes drifting off to the side. "But I don't want any. Perhaps the trainees would?"

You could tell he was playing the nice card, as he always did. What he really meant was, "I don't want anything from you." Your ears flattened against your head in disappointment, and you lowered the basket.

"Of course," you said, trying to hide your disappointment. "What a great idea. Do you mind giving it to them then?" You raised the basket, suddenly feeling the weight of it more heavily than before, and offered it to him.

As Neteyam took the basket from you, you couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope. Maybe this time would be different. But as his fingers brushed yours, you felt him pull away as if your touch was toxic. His reaction stung, but you tried to hide it as he turned away from you.

"Of course," he muttered, barely looking at you.

You couldn't stand how he was treating you. It seemed like no matter how hard you tried, he was always shutting you out. You couldn't help but wonder if he was even trying to make this work.

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, you couldn't force him to love you, but on the other hand, you couldn't bear the thought of being alone if he doesn’t come around. The fact that this was all just for the benefit of your clans didn't make it any easier.

You tried to salvage the conversation, “Will I see you for dinner?” You tried again to make the effort, only to be shot down immediately, no hesitation whatsoever.

“I have patrols. Don’t wait up.” He left soon after, leaving you frustrated and hopeless. Nothing you ever do is reaching him, was he made out of actual rock?

It's annoying how one-sided everything feels.

You always initiate contact, never the other way around. You bring him gifts, participate in his customs and traditions, and cook for him, only to be met with silence or absence. And yet, you continue to do it all with a forced smile, hoping that one day he'll see your effort and reciprocate.

But the reality is, you don't know how much longer you can keep up this charade of a marriage. From the outside, it's a picture-perfect union, respected by all. But inside, you barely speak to each other and can't stand being in the same room together for more than a few minutes. It's like there's too much space, yet you feel suffocated at the same time.

You expressed how you felt later that day with Kiri, as you always do. She, along with her youngest brother, Lo’ak understood what it was like to feel different from her people—soon to be your people. So it felt right confiding in her, knowing she gets you when your future mate doesn’t make the effort to try.

Kiri sat next to you, intently fixing a necklace for one of the clanmates who had messed up. As she worked, she spoke softly, "That's unlike my brother, I don't understand why he's acting like this towards you." She gave you a sympathetic look before continuing, "I know it's frustrating, but give it some more time."

You couldn't help but let out a frustrated huff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "That's all I've been giving. When is enough time enough?" you asked, your voice tinged with annoyance. You knew you weren't exaggerating or imagining things.

Kiri paused her work, considering your words for a moment before offering a suggestion. "Perhaps you need to approach it differently. Focus on yourself, as he focuses on the village. Maybe then he'll realize that he should have been focused on you too."

You looked at her with surprise, not expecting such wise advice from her. As she placed the finished necklace on the low table, you smiled genuinely for once, feeling a glimmer of hope. This was the best advice she had ever given you, and you knew it was time to stop waiting for him to come to you and start putting your own feelings first.

After thanking Kiri and complimenting her handiwork, you left her hut feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The air felt fresher and lighter, as if the weight of your worries had been lifted off your shoulders.

From that moment on, you threw yourself back into your tsakarem training, determined to become a skilled and respected member of the Omaticaya clan. By immersing yourself in their culture and customs, you began to feel a deeper connection to both the people and the land.

This newfound sense of belonging also opened up new opportunities for you to assist with the day-to-day tasks of the tribe, and in return, they offered their guidance and support to help you adjust to your new way of life.

The perfect example would be currently, where you were in your hut crushing herbs that Tuk had brought you after hearing you asking about them. You were actually happy knowing Neteyam’s family were warming up to you. But Neteyam was still distant.

As you crushed the herb, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration and hurt. You had heard countless stories about the Omaticaya chief, Neteyam, and his unwavering loyalty and attentiveness to his people. Yet, when it came to you, his soon-to-be mate, he seemed to give you the cold shoulder.

You had tried to make him a priority in your life, but it seemed like he didn't feel the same way. Why did he get to act like he didn't want you while you had to pine after him? It didn't make sense to you, especially since you were in an arranged marriage for the sake of your clans' alliance.

As you were lost in thought, you were startled by the sound of your hut's entrance swooshing open. You looked up to see Aeknim, one of your close friends from your old home, smiling at you. "[Name], I was hoping you were here!" he exclaimed, taking a seat across the low table from you.

“Aeknim, what are you doing here?” You asked, curious about the goofy grin on his face. You haven’t seen him since you left, to come out of the blue must be important.

He chuckled, raising his head high, “I have found a worthy mate.” He proudly said, patting his chest with his right hand for a job well done.

You put down the pestle you were holding and clasped his hands in yours, "That's amazing news, my friend! Tell me all about her." As he shared the details of his new love, you couldn't help but feel happy for him.

Aeknim spent the afternoon telling you all about his new mate while you caught up on old times. You even forgot about your tsakarem training for the day, knowing that there were other healers in the village who could cover for you. One day wouldn’t hurt.

As night fell and it was time for Aeknim to depart, you walked him to the edge of the village to say goodbye. You ignored the curious glances from your fellow villagers as you hugged your friend tightly and bid him farewell, wishing him well on his journey and sending him off with some healing ointment in case he needed it.

When you approached your hut coming back, you noticed Neteyam standing in front of it, his expression inscrutable as he watched you approach with a predatory gaze. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wondering what had brought him here.

Without preamble, he demanded, "Who was that?"

Confused, you asked, "Who was who?"

Neteyam inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tensing as he closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they blazed with an intensity that made you take a step back. "The man you were walking around the village with," he said, his voice deeper than usual as he stepped closer to you. He bent his head, allowing a few braids to fall into his face. "That's who I'm talking about."

You recoiled at the sudden change in Neteyam's demeanor. The tension emanating from him was uncomfortable and you couldn't maintain eye contact with him any longer. As you tried to process his words, you looked away.

Aeknim was the man he was referring to, but you couldn't fathom why Neteyam was so bothered by you walking with him. You decided to meet his intense gaze again, but his eyes, usually a bright yellow, were darker and it made you shudder.

"Yes, Aeknim came to visit me," you confirmed, hoping to dispel any misunderstandings.

"He came to see you?" he repeated, furrowing his brow in confusion. He leaned back slightly and asked, "Why did he come to see you?"

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by his sudden interest in your life. You couldn't recall a time when Neteyam cared about what you did or who you spent time with, and it annoyed you that he was being so attentive now.

"Why does that matter to you?" you asked, your tone defensive as you tried to keep the frustration out of your voice. You noticed his tail swishing behind him aggressively, and it only served to make you more uneasy.

Neteyam didn’t like what he was hearing. No, he didn’t like what he was seeing. His mate was defending another male, it made him sick inside and angry… the only male you should be protecting is him.

"You are my mate--" he began, but you cut him off, your ears flattening against your head at his words. You could feel your own anger rising, a fierce determination filling you.

"Yet, I am not your mate yet," you corrected him, standing your ground. You had done nothing wrong, so where was this interrogation coming from? It was almost as if he had lost his mind.

Eywa help him.

Neteyam shook his head, his braids swaying with the movement. "Now and then, you are my mate!" he spat, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Who visits my mate late into the night is my concern. You are my concern."

“You have an interesting way of showing concern for your mate, especially over the last few months,” you retorted, holding back a scoff as you watched confusion flash across Neteyam's face.

“Did you forget? Because I certainly haven't,” you continued, your expression softening slightly as you finally allowed your exhaustion to show.

It had been a constant struggle trying to reach him, and now is the time you choose to feel vulnerable, “You've been distant while I've been trying to connect with you. Not cold, necessarily, but you might as well have been with your absence.”

Neteyam's face softened as realization dawned on him as you continued, “I had to learn how to live here from people other than you. Your family has been around more than you have.” You finished, waiting for a response, but he simply stood there, eyes lowered towards the ground.

This time your scoff freely at him, honestly disappointed. You thought this conversation was getting somewhere, somehow to a point where you can come to some sort of agreement but there he goes again avoiding you.

Having enough of him, you brush pass him to enter the hut, “Of course, you have nothing to say.” You expected him to leave after that, like he does every morning to get away from you but he enters behind you, his expression morphed into determination.

“I have nothing to say,” he started, standing in the doorway, despite his expression, his body betrayed him as he’s slightly hunched over and his ears a deep purple, “because I don’t know how else to act with the one who I’ve already fallen in love with, but haven’t fallen for me yet.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully, shoulders losing its tenseness, “What?” You can’t believe he just said that. He loves you?

“I’ve noticed you more than you noticed me. I know that your actions mean nothing to you, while if I returned them, it would mean everything to me.” He started walking towards you, “I know your feelings you display towards me are not genuine. I know you don’t want to mate with me. I know and still can’t help but fall.” He stops a feet away from you, eyes trailing over your face.

“How can I do those things knowing what it means to me, that you don’t see me like I see you.” He finished, looking you in the eyes. There they were, bright yellow, nothing like the other harsh color. He looked as you expectedly, gentle, yearning and vulnerable.

Your throat tightened with emotion as you gazed up at him. His confession was a shock, but a welcome one. It was as though a veil had been lifted, and you saw him in a new light. Perhaps you had been blind to his feelings, too caught up in your own concerns. Perhaps you had been the one in the wrong all along, insensitive to his emotions, and acting selfishly.

Looking at Neteyam now, you saw a man baring his soul to you. He was hoping for your acceptance and understanding, acknowledging his mistakes and making an effort to set them right. You saw him in a new light: gentle, kind, compassionate, and fierce - just as all the stories said.

How could you have missed this before?

"I had no idea," you said, your voice quivering with emotion as tears welled up in your eyes. "I was so focused on my own desires that I neglected to ask about your true feelings."

Neteyam shook his head, "It was my fault for not showing you how I truly felt. If I had, we wouldn't be in this position now."

You chuckled softly, tilting your head down as you brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "You're right about that," you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours. Bringing it to your chest, you looked up at him with a shy smile. "But it doesn't matter. I see you, Neteyam. All of you."

Neteyam's eyes lit up, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He looked so handsome and carefree, and you couldn't help but think that this was what had been holding him back all this time.

"I see you too, [Name]. I always have," he said, pulling you close to him. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

Maybe you can learn to love him, wholeheartedly and authentically.

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