#and just the fact that hannah did it at all
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Hi nalyra hope you're doing well and happy new year!
I just watched Daniel harts interview. It leaves me with a sinking feeling I must say. Long face was fun, I just don't think the creators understand what they're doing with lestats character tbh. They all seem to be writing for a different character depending on what they want the scene to be. Now he's cruel now he's loving now he's funny creating a narrative dissonance in the meantime. I mean if the one who is supposed to write the music does not understand the core of the character and we have already had some serious red flags from hannah maybe we should just accept that this is what we're getting show wise.
... To be honest, I have been mulling over this as well.
Because.
I did expect the teaser to have substantial... planning. I did expect Long Face to have canon narrative ... impact.
That, however, does not seem to be the case.
If I interpret Daniel's comments correctly he had to write Long Face in a rush for SDCC, came up with the lyrics himself, and then Rolin told him he needed to be able to explain them because Sam would ask.
That... is not what I had expected. Or hoped for.
Long Face is a lot of fun. I love the song. But that is all there is to it, apparently. A fun teaser, which might not have much to do with what will hit our screens.
And this show has 1,5 YEARS in hiatus. WHY. Why does it all take so long if Daniel Hart only gets a few months to write that, for example. I know that they knew they were renewed, for a while before the announcement hit. They had the costumes and makeup ready, and there was obvious planning for the teaser.
But the lyrics and general timing comment makes me think they just grabbed certain costumes from stash, and the brilliance of everyone involved then made it what it is, more than any planning.
Apart from that it was sobering to realize that the aforementioned fact means that these things are thought out only because Sam will ask?! Like... okay. Thank god for Sam then.
And finally... yes, we do have to take what we get here. There have been a few red flags before: the agency comments, Levan's comments, Hannah's take on certain things... Sam adding lines when he knows they cannot cut them, or professing to doing 45minute phone calls with Rolin and Hannah, or him having problems with 1x05 and wanting trigger warnings on it, but getting ignored.
Sam said it, in Autumn's video: this is not Anne's Lestat. They changed core traits in order to soften other characters. The changes they made need and will have repercussions on upcoming arcs.
But this is what we're getting.
I love this show, the way they dare, and the way they address things. The way they hold up a dark mirror, and apparently do not go the "Netflix" way. The scripts are brilliant, the show a huge puzzle, with more layers than an onion.
And I love the music, too.
I waited 30 years for this to be adapted.
Will it be perfect? No, nothing is.
But I will enjoy the hell out of it regardless.
And, nonny, I can only recommend doing the same.
#Anonymous#ask nalyra#amc iwtv#iwtv#amc interview with the vampire#interview with the vampire#lestat de lioncourt#daniel hart#long face
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𓏵 ˖ ⋮ emily davis headcanons. . ֹ ₊
❝ often a lack of confidence manifests itself as over confidence. . ❞
this is part 1 of my emily headcanons, because she’s my angel and yet I never gush about her on here (smallest piece of angst somewhere in the mix but it’s like a: “must’ve been the wind” sort of thing.)
Emily isn’t exactly the biggest animal lover. She doesn’t like being around dogs (Sam’s dog likes to chase her when she’s comes over. Now she demands it gets put outside when she visits.), and cats are more tame (Ashley’s cat falls asleep in her lap, and she awkwardly pets it) but she wouldn’t want one as a pet. She does, however, have a soft spot for rabbits.
HATES losing. The sorest loser you’ll ever meet. Falling second place is enough to make her go crazy. It doesn’t even have to be anything academic or sporty. Losing to someone in a game can also ruin her day.
Being a mathlete, she sticks out like a sore thumb when grouped together with the other mathletes because most of them are on the geekier side. But despite her sour attitude, she’s managed to befriend a handful of them.
Even when she and Jessica were friends, she always felt like she had to be better than her in some way. Jessica being more out there and popular because of her brash and extroverted attitude, Emily felt as if she couldn’t keep it. While everyone was drooling over Miss Homecoming Queen, it was always a hit or miss with how people felt about Emily. It was always “she’s too bitchy” or “she’s okay”, no in between.
When Emily started dating Matt, she put on this flirty, suggestive persona just in case there was a chance of him leaving her for the same reason Mike dumped her. Being “too frigid”. However, Emily is still insecure about her performance in the bedroom due to Mike making it pretty clear she wasn’t his best experience.
Emily can be a bit bitter, but she’s never been all that serious. The smallest things are enough to tickle her, including her own jokes.
When around adults or authority figures, Emily is a completely different person. Very respectful and and well mannered. The first time she visit Ashley’s house, she went from ranting to Ashley outside the door, to having a polite conversation with Ashley’s mother in the living room.
Emily did in fact feel guilty for the prank they pulled on Hannah, and had zero intentions on going back up to the lodge. After a talk with Matt and thinking about how much it probably meant to Josh, she caved in.
Emily realized her eyesight was getting a tiny bit bad when she was only two seats away from the board and still couldn’t exactly make out what it said. If then became concerning when she was beginning to have a hard time reading up close, Sam told her she was going to have to get glasses sooner or later, but Em kept putting it off because she felt glasses would make her look dorky. She secretly ordered some online, and the prescription glasses were a little chunky and thick. She only wears them in the comfort of her own home.
She actually loves giving gifts on special occasions. And she’s loaded so her gifts usually aren’t that casual. She likes spending money on her friends to see their faces when they open up whatever she got them.
She doesn’t exactly have a fear of roller coasters or rides, they just make her sick every single time. And if you’re not fast enough, or you’re unlucky enough (like Chris), you’ll end up in the spray zone. 
She topped Chris’s high score in DDR.
Emily got stuck in an art class as an elective. She hated every minute of it and she’s great at everything, but her art skills, not so much..
Ironically, Emily can be one of the most sensitive people you’ll ever meet.
She loves teasing and messing with her friends, but when it’s done back to her, she’s thrown off completely.
#emily davis#until dawn#supermassive games#until dawn headcanons#until dawn remake#until dawn remaster#until dawn emily#emily until dawn
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Harlan Coben's Shelter - 1x03
#shelteredit#shelter on prime#harlan coben's shelter#shira bolitar#hannah taylor#constance zimmer#missi pyle#shelter 1x03#hannah x shira#femslash related stuff#hehehe#I hadn't expected THIS quite so soon#the really fun part of their arc has been how we have to keep rewriting it the more we learn#not just in the later eps but even here we know there's clearly a history#the way shira's smiling#and just the fact that hannah did it at all#swooping in SO sexily like that#and then kind of waiting for shira's response#it's not out of nowhere
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It's a small world
A fic about various things I wanted to write about instead of rambling about them; focuses on Manta and Hannah. The whole thing is under the cut.
Manta didn’t expect his and Hannah’s connection to fizzle out the way it did.
Not that he was expecting anything specific; She wasn’t someone he would really consider a friend. At the same time, though, he couldn’t deny that they weren’t exactly strangers, either. They hung out sometimes, she tried to help him during his illegal race against Corto, and they bonded over how great they thought Teach tech was – something that left a bitter taste in his mouth now.
He would have expected some kind of a lukewarm goodbye, or an awkward wave as they stepped onto the boats meant to take them to their homes. But as the boat steering towards the Solar Sea took off, there was no exchange between them - in fact, he wasn’t even anywhere nearby, instead preparing for his and Shino’s attempt at getting a better life for themselves.
He did think then if he should have approached her outburst the day before the way he did. Back then, he didn’t see it as anything more than a show of weakness; she wouldn’t have lasted a day in what he had to live through on Polaris. Why should she get sympathy for being a double-crosser? For only feeling bad now that it was too late anyway, now that Gavinda’s plan was in full swing?
But it wasn’t too late. Not to her and the Tikis, anyway. And she did her part in fighting against Teach…
Unlike him, at first.
No, Hannah wasn’t weak. After everything, Manta could tell that much.
Maybe he shouldn’t have underestimated how cruel Teach could have been to her. Maybe that shouldn’t have been his last words to her.
“Oh well. Too bad”, he thought, going back to packing his stuff. What’s done is done.
He hasn’t really thought about this, or anything related to the Mirages, for the next few months. He had more important things on his mind - building a new life from scratch with Shino (and Debbie) on an entirely new island was challenging enough to take away any time he could have had for reminiscing about his old acquaintances from the Whale Cup.
They weren’t on his mind these few months later, as he was walking through one of the lesser known alleys of Tortuga to his boat, either - at least not until he saw a familiar looking silhouette walking through one of the streets he’d usually pass.
“Hannah?” He called out instinctively, more out of surprise than anything else.
“Oh– hi, Manta.” She replied, turning around to face him. “Been a while, huh?”
“Yeah, but– What are you doing here?”
“On Tortuga? I came for the Rotor Punch, obviously.” She shrugged. “But, I wanted to see how you’re doing with my own two eyes while I’m here, too.”
“You heard of me?” He asked, squinting his eyes.
“Duh. It’d be harder to not hear of the famous White Tiger, honestly.” She said, leaning on the wall next to her. “You’re taking Aquagram by storm– You know that, right?”
He shrugged and made an indecipherable hum. Debbie did tell him that he was getting more popular day by day, but he never really got interested in how popular he was outside of Tortuga, exactly. His winning streak mattered to him more than whatever she was doing over on her hologlove.
“Wait, but– Rotor Punch? You’re competing?”
“What, you think I can’t handle it?”
“It’s just– I didn’t know if you’d still be racing after… Everything.”
Hannah frowned for a short second, but quickly smirked instead.
“It takes more than that to make me quit, you know. I managed to get into Solar Empire’s drone guard.”
She crossed her arms, still leaning on the wall.
“So, I’m the one representing the Empire this year.”
“Oh, wow. You got yourself a solid position, huh?” He said, walking over and sitting down on the stairs next to her. “How’d you even do that?”
“Eh, turns out getting to the finals of the Whale Cup was good enough of an achievement to sign up. Only had to climb a few ranks after that.”
“Pshf, sounds easy.” He teased. She only hummed in response.
“What about Adam? Is he participating with you?”
A slight grimace showed up on Hannah’s face. Manta wasn’t sure how to decipher what emotion it was supposed to show.
“...No, he’s not. He hasn’t reached out to me after Teach’s defeat.”
“Oh.” Manta said. “...Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Hannah sighed, sitting next to him on the stairs.
“...I haven’t tried to reach him, either. At first I thought I should, since Teach manipulated him, too, but… He was always more invested in her plans than I was. It seems like we both picked our sides.”
“...I see.”
“Yeah.”
A moment of silence fell upon them.
“And you’re…not worried?”
Hannah glared at him for a few seconds before deciding on an answer.
“I… don’t know. I have mixed feelings about it all.” She stated, resting her chin on her hand.
“Teach was cruel to him, too. She’s not going to suddenly do a 180. But, if that was his choice, then–”
She suddenly waved with the same hand in the air, leaning back.
“--so be it! I’m not going to chase after someone who made up their mind!”
She let out something between a groan and a sigh, hiding her face with her hands for a moment.
“...What’s it to you, anyway? I didn’t take you for the type to talk about this kinda stuff.”
Manta shrugged, looking somewhere else.
“You were the one who said it’s been a while.”
“Heh– yeah, that’s true.” She chuckled. “I guess it did a number on you.”
“Hmm.”
They sat for a moment in silence before Hannah stood up from the stairs.
“...Well, I should go. I take it you’re taking part in the Rotor Punch too, right?”
“Of course. Who do you take me for?”
“Yeah, thought so.” She smirked again, turning back to go about her way.
“I’ll see you around, then. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
“Psh, as if I’d need that. But yeah. See you around.” He replied, also getting up from the sidewalk.
As he got back to walking to his boat, he felt a sense of a relief he didn’t expect.
Turns out, he was sorta glad to see her again.
#i dont really know why anyone would do this but just to be sure?? don't tag as ship? like any relation mentioned in this#droners#droners hannah#droners manta#droners season 2#droners fanfic#i mentioned in the tags of that adam ramble that i was thinking of hannah's POV too but wanted to write it. well. heh#its done finally#at first i was kind of surprised to see that she didn't even mention him but as i thought about it it did make sense#we don't really know much abt what they went through long-term together but afawk hannah has no idea abt what happened in the titan#meaning she doesnt even know adam was taken by teach against his will#from her POV he might as well be staying on her side willingly. and maybe she is upset about it#but unless he's mentioned by someone else she's moving forward & not thinking about him#which honestly good for her that she's not letting this bring her down#there is also the fact that its been a few months#even if this 'moving forward' would be harder at first she had time to get used to it#so. yea#still hoping that they'll adress it in the show#but i don't really feel her not acknowledging all this as OOC
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have been thinking about Until Dawn again -- do we ever like, fully understand what Josh had planned for Matt and Emily? Like, did he steal/hide her bag or something to get them out into the woods? Or was that just some kind of coincidence that played out like he hoped it would?
#N posts stuff#outside of that one 'did Josh do that deliberately?' uncertainty i do actually grasp the full implications of his plan#better than i think i did in high school.#(my brother has a playstation he lent to us so i'm finally playing it for myself instead of just watching no commentary vids lmao)#in that like. presuming he Did send Matt and Em out there deliberately then them + Mike and Jessica are on the side of like#Josh is putting them in the same circumstances Hannah and Beth were when they left the house - he's surrendering them to whatever#circumstance and danger that his sisters went through; i watched a couple of like vid essays on the game and someone said that#Jess and Mike in particular were 'spared' by Josh sending them out to the cabin but i don't think that's what Josh was doing#given the level of control he had over everything that happened all over that mountain then I have to assume the busted power#in that cabin was Deliberate and the path they took was very messy and ill-maintained in a way that can get them both Soaked#so to me the cabin is a deliberate exposing them to the elements in a way that may well could have killed hannah and beth#plus Josh did make up some of the 'maniac' lore BUT his parents were in a lengthy legal battle with someone who Did threaten the family#so he's also well-aware that That guy could have had something to do with Hannah+Beth's disappearance and again Josh is exposing#Matt and Mike and Emily and Ashley to that danger because they were the more outward 'antagonists' in the prank on Hannah#so his revenge there is more passive but arguably Way more dangerous than what Josh had set up in the house; because again#Josh had a Huge amount of control over what was going on in there and he kept an eye on everyone the whole time#He's basically the only threat on the field - he can account for the weather and outside threats etc. in a way he Doesn't do for anyone els#and even tho they don't know it JOSH knows that he's not going to physically Harm anyone inside the house. so they're ultimately Safer#his deliberately more Antagonistic 'revenge' on the others who seemed to have less to do with the prank is also kind of double edged#ie; for 1) Josh overall sees the whole thing as a net Positive for them - he was going to post it online w/ the intent of making#them all famous sensations; obviously he knows it's terrifying them deliberately in a real dire way but as a Whole it's supposed to be 'goo#and as for Why he scares them so thoroughly out of everyone i think it's mostly bc Josh does see Himself as culpable that night as well#dr. Hill has that line about how he doesn't know if it's like. worse to threaten someone or passively allow them to come to harm or whateve#so there's a lot of deep self-loathing about the fact that Josh couldn't/didn't do anything to help his sisters that night that he kind of#turns outwards against the other people who were also less Directly culpable in that same way (Sam tries to stop the prank#but fails; Ashley more passively went along with it than deliberately participated; Chris was also drunk + incapacitated)#so it's almost a collective 'WE fucked it up bc we didn't do Enough' kind of punishment hence the invocation of Hannah and Beth's#terror and uncertainty on that night -- We didn't do Enough and so this is what they suffered because of us in that way#but again; Josh had immense control over that house and he Knew everyone was Physically safe so even though he's Scaring them#he's also not putting them In Danger in the same way he does everyone else by shutting them out of the house + out in the snow
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A Guide to Historically Accurate Regency-Era Names
I recently received a message from a historical romance writer asking if I knew any good resources for finding historically accurate Regency-era names for their characters.
Not knowing any off the top of my head, I dug around online a bit and found there really isn’t much out there. The vast majority of search results were Buzzfeed-style listicles which range from accurate-adjacent to really, really, really bad.
I did find a few blog posts with fairly decent name lists, but noticed that even these have very little indication as to each name’s relative popularity as those statistical breakdowns really don't exist.
I began writing up a response with this information, but then I (being a research addict who was currently snowed in after a blizzard) thought hey - if there aren’t any good resources out there why not make one myself?
As I lacked any compiled data to work from, I had to do my own data wrangling on this project. Due to this fact, I limited the scope to what I thought would be the most useful for writers who focus on this era, namely - people of a marriageable age living in the wealthiest areas of London.
So with this in mind - I went through period records and compiled the names of 25,000 couples who were married in the City of Westminster (which includes Mayfair, St. James and Hyde Park) between 1804 to 1821.
So let’s see what all that data tells us…
To begin - I think it’s hard for us in the modern world with our wide and varied abundance of first names to conceive of just how POPULAR popular names of the past were.
If you were to take a modern sample of 25-year-old (born in 1998) American women, the most common name would be Emily with 1.35% of the total population. If you were to add the next four most popular names (Hannah, Samantha, Sarah and Ashley) these top five names would bring you to 5.5% of the total population. (source: Social Security Administration)
If you were to do the same survey in Regency London - the most common name would be Mary with 19.2% of the population. Add the next four most popular names (Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah and Jane) and with just 5 names you would have covered 62% of all women.
To hit 62% of the population in the modern survey it would take the top 400 names.
The top five Regency men’s names (John, William, Thomas, James and George) have nearly identical statistics as the women’s names.
I struggled for the better part of a week with how to present my findings, as a big list in alphabetical order really fails to get across the popularity factor and also isn’t the most tumblr-compatible format. And then my YouTube homepage recommended a random video of someone ranking all the books they’d read last year - and so I present…
The Regency Name Popularity Tier List
The Tiers
S+ - 10% of the population or greater. There is no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. 52% of the population had one of these 7 names.
S - 2-10%. There is still no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. Names in this percentage range in the past have included Mary and William in the 1880s and Jennifer in the late 1970s (topped out at 4%).
A - 1-2%. The top five modern names usually fall in this range. Kids with these names would probably include their last initial in class to avoid confusion. (1998 examples: Emily, Sarah, Ashley, Michael, Christopher, Brandon.)
B - .3-1%. Very common names. Would fall in the top 50 modern names. You would most likely know at least 1 person with these names. (1998 examples: Jessica, Megan, Allison, Justin, Ryan, Eric)
C - .17-.3%. Common names. Would fall in the modern top 100. You would probably know someone with these names, or at least know of them. (1998 examples: Chloe, Grace, Vanessa, Sean, Spencer, Seth)
D - .06-.17%. Less common names. In the modern top 250. You may not personally know someone with these names, but you’re aware of them. (1998 examples: Faith, Cassidy, Summer, Griffin, Dustin, Colby)
E - .02-.06%. Uncommon names. You’re aware these are names, but they are not common. Unusual enough they may be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Calista, Skye, Precious, Fabian, Justice, Lorenzo)
F - .01-.02%. Rare names. You may have heard of these names, but you probably don’t know anyone with one. Extremely unusual, and would likely be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Emerald, Lourdes, Serenity, Dario, Tavian, Adonis)
G - Very rare names. There are only a handful of people with these names in the entire country. You’ve never met anyone with this name.
H - Virtually non-existent. Names that theoretically could have existed in the Regency period (their original source pre-dates the early 19th century) but I found fewer than five (and often no) period examples of them being used in Regency England. (Example names taken from romance novels and online Regency name lists.)
Just to once again reinforce how POPULAR popular names were before we get to the tier lists - statistically, in a ballroom of 100 people in Regency London: 80 would have names from tiers S+/S. An additional 15 people would have names from tiers A/B and C. 4 of the remaining 5 would have names from D/E. Only one would have a name from below tier E.
Women's Names
S+ Mary, Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah
S - Jane, Mary Ann+, Hannah, Susannah, Margaret, Catherine, Martha, Charlotte, Maria
A - Frances, Harriet, Sophia, Eleanor, Rebecca
B - Alice, Amelia, Bridget~, Caroline, Eliza, Esther, Isabella, Louisa, Lucy, Lydia, Phoebe, Rachel, Susan
C - Ellen, Fanny*, Grace, Henrietta, Hester, Jemima, Matilda, Priscilla
D - Abigail, Agnes, Amy, Augusta, Barbara, Betsy*, Betty*, Cecilia, Christiana, Clarissa, Deborah, Diana, Dinah, Dorothy, Emily, Emma, Georgiana, Helen, Janet^, Joanna, Johanna, Judith, Julia, Kezia, Kitty*, Letitia, Nancy*, Ruth, Winifred>
E - Arabella, Celia, Charity, Clara, Cordelia, Dorcas, Eve, Georgina, Honor, Honora, Jennet^, Jessie*^, Joan, Joyce, Juliana, Juliet, Lavinia, Leah, Margery, Marian, Marianne, Marie, Mercy, Miriam, Naomi, Patience, Penelope, Philadelphia, Phillis, Prudence, Rhoda, Rosanna, Rose, Rosetta, Rosina, Sabina, Selina, Sylvia, Theodosia, Theresa
F - (selected) Alicia, Bethia, Euphemia, Frederica, Helena, Leonora, Mariana, Millicent, Mirah, Olivia, Philippa, Rosamund, Sybella, Tabitha, Temperance, Theophila, Thomasin, Tryphena, Ursula, Virtue, Wilhelmina
G - (selected) Adelaide, Alethia, Angelina, Cassandra, Cherry, Constance, Delilah, Dorinda, Drusilla, Eva, Happy, Jessica, Josephine, Laura, Minerva, Octavia, Parthenia, Theodora, Violet, Zipporah
H - Alberta, Alexandra, Amber, Ashley, Calliope, Calpurnia, Chloe, Cressida, Cynthia, Daisy, Daphne, Elaine, Eloise, Estella, Lilian, Lilias, Francesca, Gabriella, Genevieve, Gwendoline, Hermione, Hyacinth, Inez, Iris, Kathleen, Madeline, Maude, Melody, Portia, Seabright, Seraphina, Sienna, Verity
Men's Names
S+ John, William, Thomas
S - James, George, Joseph, Richard, Robert, Charles, Henry, Edward, Samuel
A - Benjamin, (Mother’s/Grandmother’s maiden name used as first name)#
B - Alexander^, Andrew, Daniel, David>, Edmund, Francis, Frederick, Isaac, Matthew, Michael, Patrick~, Peter, Philip, Stephen, Timothy
C - Abraham, Anthony, Christopher, Hugh>, Jeremiah, Jonathan, Nathaniel, Walter
D - Adam, Arthur, Bartholomew, Cornelius, Dennis, Evan>, Jacob, Job, Josiah, Joshua, Lawrence, Lewis, Luke, Mark, Martin, Moses, Nicholas, Owen>, Paul, Ralph, Simon
E - Aaron, Alfred, Allen, Ambrose, Amos, Archibald, Augustin, Augustus, Barnard, Barney, Bernard, Bryan, Caleb, Christian, Clement, Colin, Duncan^, Ebenezer, Edwin, Emanuel, Felix, Gabriel, Gerard, Gilbert, Giles, Griffith, Harry*, Herbert, Humphrey, Israel, Jabez, Jesse, Joel, Jonas, Lancelot, Matthias, Maurice, Miles, Oliver, Rees, Reuben, Roger, Rowland, Solomon, Theophilus, Valentine, Zachariah
F - (selected) Abel, Barnabus, Benedict, Connor, Elijah, Ernest, Gideon, Godfrey, Gregory, Hector, Horace, Horatio, Isaiah, Jasper, Levi, Marmaduke, Noah, Percival, Shadrach, Vincent
G - (selected) Albion, Darius, Christmas, Cleophas, Enoch, Ethelbert, Gavin, Griffin, Hercules, Hugo, Innocent, Justin, Maximilian, Methuselah, Peregrine, Phineas, Roland, Sebastian, Sylvester, Theodore, Titus, Zephaniah
H - Albinus, Americus, Cassian, Dominic, Eric, Milo, Rollo, Trevor, Tristan, Waldo, Xavier
# Men were sometimes given a family surname (most often their mother's or grandmother's maiden name) as their first name - the most famous example of this being Fitzwilliam Darcy. If you were to combine all surname-based first names as a single 'name' this is where the practice would rank.
*Rank as a given name, not a nickname
+If you count Mary Ann as a separate name from Mary - Mary would remain in S+ even without the Mary Anns included
~Primarily used by people of Irish descent
^Primarily used by people of Scottish descent
>Primarily used by people of Welsh descent
I was going to continue on and write about why Regency-era first names were so uniform, discuss historically accurate surnames, nicknames, and include a little guide to finding 'unique' names that are still historically accurate - but this post is already very, very long, so that will have to wait for a later date.
If anyone has any questions/comments/clarifications in the meantime feel free to message me.
Methodology notes: All data is from marriage records covering six parishes in the City of Westminster between 1804 and 1821. The total sample size was 50,950 individuals.
I chose marriage records rather than births/baptisms as I wanted to focus on individuals who were adults during the Regency era rather than newborns. I think many people make the mistake when researching historical names by using baby name data for the year their story takes place rather than 20 to 30 years prior, and I wanted to avoid that. If you are writing a story that takes place in 1930 you don’t want to research the top names for 1930, you need to be looking at 1910 or earlier if you are naming adult characters.
I combined (for my own sanity) names that are pronounced identically but have minor spelling differences: i.e. the data for Catherine also includes Catharines and Katherines, Susannah includes Susannas, Phoebe includes Phebes, etc.
The compound 'Mother's/Grandmother's maiden name used as first name' designation is an educated guesstimate based on what I recognized as known surnames, as I do not hate myself enough to go through 25,000+ individuals and confirm their mother's maiden names. So if the tally includes any individuals who just happened to be named Fitzroy/Hastings/Townsend/etc. because their parents liked the sound of it and not due to any familial relations - my bad.
I did a small comparative survey of 5,000 individuals in several rural communities in Rutland and Staffordshire (chosen because they had the cleanest data I could find and I was lazy) to see if there were any significant differences between urban and rural naming practices and found the results to be very similar. The most noticeable difference I observed was that the S+ tier names were even MORE popular in rural areas than in London. In Rutland between 1810 and 1820 Elizabeths comprised 21.4% of all brides vs. 15.3% in the London survey. All other S+ names also saw increases of between 1% and 6%. I also observed that the rural communities I surveyed saw a small, but noticeable and fairly consistent, increase in the use of names with Biblical origins.
Sources of the records I used for my survey:
Ancestry.com. England & Wales Marriages, 1538-1988 [database on-line].
Ancestry.com. Westminster, London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1935 [database on-line].
#history#regency#1800s#1810s#names#london#writing resources#regency romance#jane austen#bridgerton#bridgerton would be an exponentially better show if daphne's name was dorcas#behold - the reason i haven't posted in three weeks
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Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Poking The Bear
Summary: Agnes has the misfortune of being called in to work a murder case on Christmas Eve. When she leaves you frustrated, you decide to do what you do best; poke the bear.
AO3
A/N: I said "is anyone going to humiliate this woman in this ultra-specific way?" and didn't wait for an answer. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3
Words: 8k
Included: Established relationship, Christmas, Porn with plot; g!p, teasing, somnophilia (implied), dacryphilia, phone sex, accidental orgasm, semi-public sex, humiliation, jealousy, blowjobs, dom/sub, sub space, throatfucking, unprotected sex, masturbation, light breeding kink, light degradation, praise, orgasm denial.
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Through the peaceful, warm silence of the morning, an alarm clock blares.
Agnes growls under her breath as she does every morning, lumbering from the comfort of the bed and over to the windowsill where the alarm clock sits. A particularly rough blow shuts it up.
God, why did she let Vidal insist on this shift?
Her routine is simple enough she could do it with her eyes closed; and does, for most of it. It isn’t until she turns the shower to a cooler temperature that she feels anywhere close to awake. She needs coffee—bad.
Halfway through said cup of coffee and one of the donuts you picked up, she realizes she hasn’t kissed you good morning yet.
You grumble a bit when she turns you over, untucking your head from the blankets, but you don’t wake. You look heavenly, painted in the warm glow of the Christmas tree you insist on keeping plugged in all night. Agnes smiles.
Pressing her lips to your forehead, she murmurs, barely a whisper, “Be good, baby.”
A hand wraps around her wrist and she startles. Pulling back, your eyes haven’t opened.
“Agnes, come back to bed.” You say, voice gravely from sleep.
“Vidal will be on my case if I don’t show.”
“I can make your morning better than Vidal can.”
You stretch, curling back into the blankets, but hold her wrist just tight enough to indicate you’re still half awake. It’s good your eyes are closed; she doesn’t need you seeing all the kinds of fond you’re making her.
Agnes really shouldn’t get you started, but curiosity kills cats, not bears, “Oh yeah? How would you do that, baby?”
“You’d come back to bed and sleep until I say.”
“And then what?” She prods, trying not to laugh.
“Then we’ll have a really nice breakfast. Donuts for you.”
“What would you have?”
“You.” You answer, casual and so matter-of-fact, “I’ll even swallow, out of Christmas spirit or something.”
Agnes jolts at the change. Though true to form, she can feel the familiar coil of arousal between her legs. She really shouldn’t have gotten you started.
She’s half awake, she won’t remember this, Agnes tells herself as she tries to move from her kneeling position on the bed. Your grip on her wrist remains.
“Sleep. We’ll have fun when I get home.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” You whine.
“I’ll be home before you know it, I swear.”
“Fine. ‘Love you.” You murmur.
You rescind your hand and turn over, pacified as you burrow back under the covers. Agnes shakes her head.
“Love you too.” She whispers.
With one last parting kiss to your forehead, she’s gone, with you none-the-wiser.
—
You wake up a mess.
There’s a half-remembered conversation with Agnes lingering in your mind, but it’s hazy enough to feel like a dream; an unsatisfying one, the persistent throbbing between your legs says. You offered to blow her, you remember that much—it’s all pretty blank after that.
No, there was something about having fun when she got home, too.
You can’t wait that long.
It isn’t until two of your fingers are knuckle-deep and you’re missing the fullness Agnes offers that the idea strikes you. You scramble blindly for the phone on your night-stand. The movements change the angle of your fingers and you whine, rolling your hips, even as the blind grabs for your phone grow more frustrated.
Once found, it is ripped viciously off the charger, and you open it, going through your messages for the quickest access to her number. You grin at the contrast between your long-winded messages and Agnes’ one word responses.
An infinitesimal movement of your hips reminds you of your intention.
The phone is brought to your ear and it rings… and rings… and rings…
…and rings…
“O’Connor.” Her gruff voice comes down the line.
Your breath hitches in your throat. You squeeze around your own fingers at the sound.
“Yes, Detective, I’d like to report a crime.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end.
“Go on.”
“Well, my wife woke me up this morning and got me turned on, and she didn’t even have the decency to fuck me before she left. What kind of woman does that, Detective?”
You can hear the curve of her grin, “A lousy one. That’s a pretty serious crime.”
Maybe it’s the low, lilting drawl of her voice down the line. Maybe it’s the way you can see how she’s sitting in your mind; shoulders back against the seat but hips forward, legs splayed with careless confidence, one hand toying with her belt. Maybe it’s the easy humor she slips into with you that she’s never had with anyone else.
Whatever it is, two sentences from her brings you closer to finishing than thirty minutes with your hand has.
You whimper, “Keep talking.”
Another pause. Then the faint rustle of fabric.
“What are you doing?”
Her tone is utterly serious. Unforgiving. And god if it isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
Finally showing your clit some attention, you moan shamelessly. It’s nice to feel full, but your fingers never quite reach the right spots, and you can’t get off on penetration alone—with Agnes or otherwise. It’s fun to work yourself up though; pushing to the heights you can reach there before really giving yourself the stimulation you want.
If she keeps talking, that—combined with the circling motions on your clit—will send you straight over the edge.
The anticipation builds over the line. For a moment, you pull the phone away to make sure she hasn’t hung up. She’s likely weighing the best thing to say to both turn you on and strike the fear of punishment into you.
Instead, her tone is almost pleading, “Don’t do this now.”
An image strikes you of making Agnes beg, of driving her to a point where the easy dominance falls away, and she’s reduced to chasing whatever kindness you give. It brings you so much pleasure it hurts. You need it. But how to get it?
“Is Agent Vidal in the room with you?” You ask.
The idea of Vidal witnessing what you’re doing to Agnes makes your toes curl.
“No.”
“I thought you were stuck with her today.”
“Leave Vidal out of this.” She demands, but it’s strangled.
She’s clawing for control over the situation, scrambling for a foothold. Normally, you’d give it to her. Normally.
“I don’t think I ask for much…” A lie. You make many requests in the sanctity of your bedroom, “all I wanted was for you to fix what you started.”
“Baby.”
You have to pull your fingers away from your clit, desperate to come but not ready yet.
“There are so many ways you could have done it, too. You could have woken me up with your head between my legs… or with you inside me. It could have been nice, right?”
Only the sound of her breathing comes down the line. Heavy, uneven, like when she’s holding herself over you, hips driving her deeper—
God, you’re so close.
You whisper, needing to know that she’s as affected as you, needing to hear her say it, “Are you hard, Agnes?”
“Yes.”
Even though you haven’t moved any part of your hand, the mental image nearly sends you tumbling over the edge.
“Will you come with me?”
“I…I can’t.”
You know. With the shades open, her office is basically an observation room; meaning if she were to do what you ask, there’s almost a guarantee she’d be caught. A sick part of you wants it. Wants to know that you have enough power over her to make her take the risk.
Gently, you begin to toy with your clit again. You can make her do what you ask. All you need is for her to say it—the confirmation that you’ve undone her so thoroughly that she can’t help but fist her cock under the desk where anyone could see.
“Please.” You beg.
You hear her inhale, the sound sharp in your ear. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are no doubt shifting around the office, searching for the perfect way to hide what she’s about to do.
You’re standing on the precipice.
The harsh beeping of a disconnected call blares in your ear. Yanking it away, orgasm thoroughly ruined, you yell in frustration.
—
An officer pulls open the door before you can reach for it, nodding, “Ma’am.”
The precinct is busy for it being a holiday. Uniformed officers sit around desks, either on the phone or talking with others. You spy the Chief talking animatedly to a few toward the back.
They’ve really done up the place this year. Last year it’d been sad, grey. Now there are a few little trees spread around, some personal decorations here and there, a menorah on the front desk with candles waiting to be lit. It livens up the place.
In the back sits the partial vision of Agnes’ office. The blinds are somewhat closed, but she’s left the door open, allowing you enough of a glimpse to know she’s in there. You can imagine her without having to see; her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hunched over the desk, hand toying with strands of her hair as she frowns over evidence.
Gazes follow as you cut through the center of it all. You do your best to ignore the heat working its way up your neck. Once upon a time, a few of the other officers had tried to catch your attention. You’d entertained a few of them. But they were minnows, and you wanted the shark.
You wanted the unapproachable, stone-faced Detective O’Connor.
And you had been the one to catch Agnes, but her fellow officers couldn’t imagine their illustrious Detective not being the one to do the catching. If only they knew how you could have her eating from the palm of your hand.
A swift knock on the open door and you lean against it. She’s exactly as you imagined. Though there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and her fingers tap on the desk like she can’t sit still.
She doesn’t look up, barking, “I’m busy.”
“I’ll pass this off to one of the other officers then.”
Her head snaps up and you grin. Hanging from one of your fingers is a white takeout bag. The scent of orange chicken and rice permeates the air, but it isn’t what you’re hungry for.
Work forgotten, she looks you up and down, licking her lips. Her fingers twitch on the desk. You clear your throat and she snaps out of whatever daze she’s in. Clearing her own throat, she sits up, tugging on the bottom of her flannel shirt. Your smile widens.
“Close the door behind you.”
Stepping in, you kick it closed with a low, “Yes, Detective.”
“What are you doing here?”
“My job.” You cross to her desk, dropping the takeout bag on top. You’re perched on the edge closest to her. She looks up at you from her chair, lips pursed, tugging on her shirt again, “What kind of wife would I be if I let you go hungry?”
“None of the other guys get lunch delivered personally.”
“None of the other guys are married to me. Do I get a kiss for my troubles?”
Briefly, she looks out into the precinct—not that she can see much with the shades drawn—then back to your lips. Agnes shifts, licking her own, before nodding.
You lean forward and hold onto the chair by one arm, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Your other hand palms the length you know pulsates between her legs. Upon contact she grunts into your mouth, hips bucking.
Her hand fumbles blindly for your wrist. Catching it in a firm grip, you can feel the tension in her frame as she decides whether to press you closer or shove you away.
Pulling back just enough to smile, “Poor baby. Have you been like this all day?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Detective?” You murmur.
Her breath hitches. Blue eyes so blown out they’re nearly black regard you, her chest rising and falling as she struggles for an even rhythm of breath. You test her grip and find its slackened. The palm of your hand caresses the entire outline of her through her jeans.
Agnes doesn’t push you away, but she doesn’t pull you closer, either. The hand on your wrist allows you enough movement to stroke slowly from base to tip. Every inch of her seems to jump at the whisper of your touch.
Looking into her eyes, you can see how she’s fighting for control. She just can’t find the path to it. Good. You want her like this—panting and desperate. It makes you clench around nothing.
“What have you been imagining all this time?”
She swallows. Clears her throat, “Vidal will be back soon.”
“I can be quick.”
“Anyone… could see.”
“We have a few options. Your favorite is off the table, though.”
The favorite in question being Agnes bending you over the desk and fucking you hard and fast. It’s efficient, allowing her drive in deep while having the benefit of spanking you as she chases her reward. Her cock twitches at the reminder.
She’s tense, taut with energy like she’s only a few strokes from finishing right here. The thought is hot and you want it, bad—but not all dreams can be reality.
“What do we have?” Agnes asks, finally.
“If I crawl under the desk no one would see what I’m doing.” You offer.
Your hand keeps moving. It’s more for yourself than anything; you like feeling her, hard and wanting, yet so restricted, jumping at the slightest bit of attention. A thumb swipes over where you know the head is and she chokes, hips stuttering from what had been a slow roll into your hand.
“Do it.” She demands.
The subtle authority returning to her voice sends a shiver down your spine. One more swipe of your thumb and she keens, before clamping her mouth shut.
You laugh. Waking up this morning, this is the last thing you expected for yourself from the day; but you can’t deny you’re enjoying every second.
“That’s my girl.” You praise.
Bracing to slide off the desk, there’s a knock on Agnes’ closed office door, and disaster strikes.
The knock startles you. You try to turn and look toward the door, but forget just how precarious your seating situation is on the edge of the desk. You lose your balance. You’re able to get your foot under you just enough to fall into Agnes’ lap, rather than onto the cold tile of the office.
Agnes lets out a cross between a harsh breath and a moan as you fall into her. Your back presses firmly to her front.
“Don’t—god, I’m gonna—”
Strong hands settle on your hips to shove you off, but it’s too late. Agnes grunts. Nails dig into your sides as she ruts helplessly against your backside, unloading spurts of cum with every press of her hips.
You freeze in shock.
Then out of habit your hands find hers. With one, you lace your fingers together. With the other you caress her wrist, brushing gently as you turn your head to meet her eyes, careful to keep every inch of your body where she needs you. Her hips tense, stuttering, whimpering as she fights the orgasm that’s ravaging her.
“It’s okay. Let it happen.” You encourage, brushing a finger against her inner wrist. A war is waging over her face as she’s caught between desire and shame. Desire must win out. Agnes movements pick up speed as she furiously grinds up against you, and you can’t help the praise that falls from your lips, “That’s it.”
Now that she’s given in, she can’t stop, the hands on your hips clenching as she presses closer, harder with every thrust, powerless to the desire she can’t stop shooting. A wounded noise leaves her throat. You empathize; you know well how getting what you want can quickly move into pained-pleasure, when your body just keeps giving and giving.
Agnes’ expression is pained, laced with helplessness to her pleasure. Her eyes don’t leave your own as she rides out the waves. You try to sit still, letting her take what she needs. She allows you to watch every twitch of her expression, hear every noise she lets slip—it’s an act of trust that overwhelms. Lifting a hand to her cheek, you wipe at the perspiration there.
Eventually, she relaxes into the seat, her hips stopping in their frantic search for friction. Her eyes slip closed and you watch her breathe.
You’re eternally grateful that whoever knocked didn’t barge in right after; there is no way you’d have been able to talk your way around what was happening. It’s a mercy that Agnes rarely shuts her office door—now that she has, everyone understands something important is going on.
Running a finger along her cheekbone, you whisper, “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” She growls.
“Given the mess you just made, I’d say you’re on cloud nine.” You tease.
With a sudden show of strength, you’re shoved into a standing position. You turn to take in the weight of Agnes’ glare.
Agnes snarls, “Fuck you.”
“You could have… if you had a little self control.”
Your eyes fall to her lap for emphasis, the evidence of her desire stark against the front of her jeans. Her hands clench on the arm-rests. Blood has rushed to her face, painting her features in red hues that betray her forced calm.
The sight of her so humiliated is doing it for you; and you can see that she sees, regarding you with a loaded, wary look. It will take no shortage of negotiation, but you will be revisiting this again.
You open the take out bag and pluck out the napkins near the bottom. Carefully, you wipe them over the planes of her face, soaking up the sweat that had been clinging to her skin. Agnes doesn’t meet your eye.
“Agnes.” Waiting until she locks eyes with you, “It’s okay.”
She scoffs, “I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”
“And it was hot.”
“You’re really something else, you know that?”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I also know that you love me for it.”
Agnes rolls her eyes.
“Unfortunately.”
“Careful, O’Connor, I can still give this lunch away to one of your coworkers.”
The bag is promptly snatched from your reach. You laugh.
Now that she’s standing, you breathe a sigh of relief; her flannel is long, perfectly hiding the evidence of your activities from the world. You just hope no one outside was looking in too closely.
Desire rears its head at the thought. You need to get out of here before you do something that’ll get you both caught.
You lean up and steal a kiss, “Enjoy your lunch, baby.”
When you open the door to leave, you come face-to-face with Agent Rio Vidal holding two cups of coffee in her hands. You startle and she raises her brows at seeing you.
“Agent Vidal.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart, or I would’ve bought an extra coffee.”
“That’s okay, I was just bringing Agnes something to eat.”
“Take mine.” The coffee cup is held between the two of you. You can see the faint mark of her lipstick on the lid as she leans in, “I don’t need the extra caffeine anyway.”
“Keep it, Vidal. She can have mine.”
You turn so you can take in both of them. Vidal is relaxed, posture brimming with a quiet confidence while Agnes is tense, staring at the two of you like she could throw something—and she would, if she didn’t think it’d encourage the former somehow.
Agnes has always been… odd around Vidal; moreso than the normal awkwardness between two exes. And Vidal has never been subtle with her interest in poking Agnes’ nerves.
Whatever it is, you’re going to use it and see where it takes you.
You accept the offered cup of coffee, making deliberate eye contact with Agnes as you take a long sip. A latte—thank god, Agnes’ black drip would’ve made you gag.
“Thanks for the coffee.” You murmur low. Then you throw your wife a smile, ignoring the promise of pain in her eyes, “See you at home, Agnes.”
—
Coming home you’re delighted to find a few last-minute packages on the porch. Carrying them in, one shifts heavily in your arms, and you know immediately what it is; one of the speakers in Agnes’ car crapped out on her a few months back, so the passenger-side only spits out static where there should be music—or the sports broadcasts, in your wife’s case; you bought her a new stereo system so she wouldn’t have to ‘make do’ anymore.
There’s also a few new shirts, a nice leather belt, and a watch she’d been eyeing but wasn’t willing to buy for herself. You wrap all of them with a smile on your face and slide them under the tree.
The busy work of it all eases the tension in your shoulders and some of the arousal between your legs. There’s a lingering peace in every corner of your home. It’s quiet, barring the music playing from the kitchen, casting a nostalgic glow over you where the lights seem just a little warmer.
You sit down on the couch and take it all in. Ornaments wobble on branches, glittering and winking at you as they twist. There’s a garland draped over the fireplace with dancing lights; you feel warmer inside when you remember how Agnes helped you set it up, shaking her head at your excitement.
With the bustle of the season, you’ve forgotten to take time like this to stop and let it sink in. So many spend Christmas alone, hungry, without a place to go. You don’t have to. You have a wife who will spend every second with you in the warmth of your home. Tears prick your eyes.
You fall asleep on the couch with that warm feeling in your chest.
—
The scent of garlic and butter tickles your nose. You snap awake.
Did you leave the stove on?
You shoot up from the couch and throw off the blanket you don’t remember grabbing. It falls to your feet, twisting in your ankles, and you do all you can not to fall face-first onto the floor. How long have you been asleep?
Wait. Did you even put anything on to cook?
Agnes’ flannel-clad back greets you when you round the corner. A sigh leaves you. One hand settles over your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow to a normal pattern. It all comes back to you; wrapping gifts, sitting down to enjoy the quiet, intending to get up and start dinner afterward.
You step into the kitchen and wrap your arms around her waist from behind, forehead resting between her shoulder blades. A hand lifts your own so she can press a kiss on the back.
“How was work?” You ask, voice muffled by her shirt.
“A waste of time.” She answers. Her form shifts, one shoulder tensing as she stirs what sits on the stove, “It could’ve waited until after Christmas.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Vidal’s a workaholic and fails to realize the rest of us aren’t.”
“You are most of the year.”
Agnes grunts noncommittally, “What trouble did you get into?”
“Wrapped a few gifts, took a nap. I’m surprised some of your guys weren’t beating down my door with how rowdy I was being.”
“Chief would’ve just sent me to handle you.”
“I’d like that… you, handling me…” You murmur, hand moving down her front with intent.
A strong, veined hand grabs your own. She forces it back to its former resting place. You keep your hand where it is directed. The haven you’ve found nuzzled against her back—surrounded by the scent of her cologne and the heat of her—is just as inviting as anything more salacious could be.
Something bubbles and pops on the stove. Agnes jolts, before relaxing. You drag yourself from your haven to look over her shoulder; a pan of sauce is stirred on one burner, boiling pasta churning away on another. Simple, but hearty.
You press a kiss to the skin you can reach, just behind her ear, “You’re getting better.”
Before, her dinner of choice would’ve been a canister of peanuts, maybe a microwave dinner.
“Don’t say anything until you’ve tasted it.”
“I’ll do what I want.” You answer.
“Don’t I know it.”
Jabbing her side with a finger until she cracks a grin, “Let me taste, so I can tell you how amazing it is.”
The wooden spoon is lifted from the sauce and over her shoulder to your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, immediately lulled further into bliss by the combination of onion, garlic, and tomato.
“Agnes, that is delicious.”
Her brows raise. With a flourish, she allows herself a taste.
“You love to stroke my ego.” She says in that self-deprecating tone you know well.
Your hand and mouth move before you think, “That’s not the only part of you I like to stroke.”
Whether by a lapse in understanding or simply because she lets you, your hand finds its mark before Agnes can stop it. The full width of your hand presses at the apex of her thighs. Your mouth drops open.
Agnes is painfully erect for the second time today with little work on your part.
She drops the spoon against the pan and removes your hand again, blunt nails biting into your skin in the way you like. You don’t react, still reeling from the information you’ve gleaned. Agnes libido isn’t what it once was—a reality of age—even if she’s like a well kept oldsmobile; capable of going the distance and then some once you get her properly started. But you’ve done very little in the way of actually getting her started since visiting the office.
“What on earth have you been up to today?” You ask, breathless.
“Don’t start.”
“I’d say you’re well past the starting point, given what I just felt.” A laugh escapes, then you pause, “You didn’t…”
Agnes curious gaze meets yours over her shoulder. Understanding dawns, along with indignation, “Of course not.”
“Needing a little extra help is normal.”
“This is all your doing.” She snaps, “Go sit down.”
“If it’s all my doing, you should let me fix it.” You coo.
In a sudden burst of movement, Agnes is out of your arms, sauce and pasta left behind on the stove. You blink. Did something happen at work? Have you hit a nerve?
She crosses the space to the kitchen table. The chair at the head of the table, facing the stove, is yanked from its resting place. You wince as it shrieks against the floor. But she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, turning the chair and meeting your eyes with a hard look, pointing.
“Sit.”
You move without thinking. There’s a subtle note of steel beneath the command that sends you into submission on instinct, like a pet might jump to obey their owner. The thought doesn’t chafe today; you want to be good, you want to obey.
Plopping down into the seat, hands settle on your shoulders. Agnes growls in your ear, “Stay.”
And you do.
As she finishes dinner, moving the pasta into the sauce with an unsure—but successful—flourish. As she nearly burns herself cutting the garlic bread fresh out of the oven. As she casts quick, dark glances your way every few minutes, as if having to make sure you’re where she left you.
You are the picture of poise and obedience, fighting every desperate urge for nearness to follow her command. But the longer she takes the harder it becomes. Hands settled on your thighs, your fingers scratch anxiously at the fabric of your pants, helpless and without any other way to expel this building energy.
“Agnes.” You whine.
“Quiet.”
It takes ages before she approaches you. She takes her sweet time putting dinner on plates, making it pretty in a way you know is just to drive you crazy; she doesn’t give two fucks about whether or not something looks nice as long as it tastes good.
Dinner is brought over to the table, but you tilt your head. Agnes only brought one plate.
“Up.” She commands, “You’re in my seat.”
You stand. Reaching for the chair next to hers, a hand on the back stops you from pulling it out. There’s the deep sound of porcelain meeting the wood of the table. As she leans around you, the scent of her cologne makes you dizzy.
Agnes snaps her fingers. You jolt, snapping back into your own mind. She points to the floor and your brows furrow. Then, it clicks, and your face grows warm.
You sink to your knees in front of Agnes’ chair as she sits in it.
“I can guess what a perp is going to do just by the way they sit in interrogation.” Agnes drawls, idly tapping her knee as her mind works, “But you… I can never guess how you’re going to act. Look at you now, all good and obedient for me, when you were acting like a whore in my office today.”
So caught up in the dizzying feeling of submission, you’ve been oblivious to the weight of your own desire. Agnes’ words change that in an instant. There’s a needy, pulsing beat between your legs, and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to help yourself. It doesn’t work.
“You started it.” You say, breathless.
You can’t breathe around your desire for her. Oxygen is a secondary need to the feel of her, whether she’s buried deep inside or grazing her fingers over your flesh; you want her and it hurts. But you keep your hands on the tops of your thighs.
Agnes chuckles. It’s a low, rolling thing. Agnes’ usual response to amusement is to grin, maybe even shake her head and scoff—laughter is a rare thing, aged and cultivated until it’s amber laced with smoke over your senses. You feel the heat of it. The intoxication it brings is warm, a weight settling comfortingly over the shoulders.
“I’m collecting on your offer from earlier.”
And with that, her thighs part, and you surge forward without being told. Her belt is unbuckled in one fell swoop. You moan, unable to help yourself, needy for the feel of her skin, to taste.
A testament to the overwhelm of your desire that the concept of toying with her again does not cross your mind. Your hand finds the desperate length of her cock, exposing it to the cool air.
It stands proud, tip flushed and leaking, veins stark against the fair skin. You pant. With single-focus, you lean forward.
An equally fair hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to Agnes’, “How many taps?”
You blink. You’re buried beneath desire, mind clawing its way to the surface.
“T-Three.”
Agnes nods and you’re free.
The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the length of her. The hand on your jaw goes slack in surprise, Agnes’ hips jumping. A groan echoes through the room.
You circle your tongue over the tip, drinking in her taste and the sounds falling from her lips. It’s heady, making the room fuzzy around the edges.
Submission brings with it a strange feeling of power. You’re doing as she bids, being good, but every sound and reaction coming from her is real; the truest manifestation of how well you’re doing to please her.
The world falls away. Your head feels floaty, strangely empty despite the manuevers you’re employing with your mouth. You don’t need words, you don’t need thoughts, you just need to offer Agnes whatever she wants.
Which you do by taking her cock in your mouth until she hits the back of your throat.
A thud sounds from her hand slamming on the tabletop, scrambling for something to grip as she chokes out, “Fuck!”
You do all you can to repress your gag reflex, forcing yourself to just relax everytime she hits the back of your throat. Agnes has her head thrown back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as she pants, whimpering with every movement of your tongue and mouth.
Through it all, her hand remains on the side of your face, a careful guide. You can’t help the hand that sneaks under your skirt; Agnes is shaking with tension, begging to let go and chase her pleasure at your expense, but she’s holding herself back and guiding you through taking her in the way that would do the least harm.
You moan. Agnes’ cock twitches in your mouth and she matches your moan, a semblance of that control slipping with a particularly rough thrust. You gag, tears forming in your eyes.
The hand between your thighs shakes, fumbling for your clit while focusing on what really matters. You’re so wet there’s barely any friction.
You want Agnes to make you gag again. You want her to push into you and take what she wants until you’re crying.
Looking up, you try to will all of that thought and intent into your eyes, but Agnes’ are closed.
You whine.
Blue eyes regard you from beneath drooping lids. You will one thought into your mind and one thought only; use me.
Agnes swallows. The pad of a thumb runs under your eye, collecting some of the wetness there as if to say are you sure? In answer, you take as much of her as you can physically manage, eyes meeting her own the whole time.
Her restraint snaps.
Agnes’ hand travels to the back of your head, her hips moving faster and firmer than you can comprehend. She takes over completely; driving into you for what she needs, making you gag obscenely, without a thought in the world for if it is too much.
Not having to make choices allows you to focus on obtaining your own pleasure. With every tear she forces from your eyes, you swipe over the pulsating bud of your clit. You can feel your own orgasm building low in your gut.
“I’m going to cum.” Agnes groans.
Delight shoots through you. She’s going to cum and it’s because of you; because you were good and gave her everything she needs. It feels amazing.
Why, then, do you pull off and out of reach?
Agnes growls. You blink.
Words. There are words to go with the desire you feel. You close your eyes, searching for them, mentally scrambling at the edges until you can wrap your hands around them and their meaning.
“Can I…” You start, voice rough from the beating your throat has taken, “Can I ride you?”
Agnes makes quite the scene; splayed open on the dining room chair, hair a mess and eyes blown out, cock twitching and needy through the fly of the jeans she ruined only a few hours ago. You clench.
Agnes licks her lips, “Yeah, alright.”
You stand on shaking legs and Agnes holds up a hand, stopping you as she lifts her hips and fumbles in her back pocket. She obtains her wallet and rifles through until she locates a small foil wrapper.
It’s safer, you know. You’ve used one almost every other time for the duration of your marriage.
“Agnes.”
The woman in question pauses before opening the condom. Her brow pops up in an unspoken question.
The words are instinct, comprehensive thought still far away, “I want you to cum inside me.”
Outside, the world rages on. Westview residents race down the street, returning home from last minute errands, gifts in tow that they’ll have to sneak inside. The wind is kicking up and through the trees as snow grows closer with every second.
And then there is you and Agnes, tucked in the warmth of your home, caught in the weight of your words. Stopped in the face of the potential consequences.
Agnes throws the unopened condom on the kitchen table.
“Then come here.”
You stand with your legs on either side of her own, steadying yourself on her shoulders. One steady hand settles on your hip. The other pushes your panties aside and aligns her to your entrance as you lower into her lap.
You could take her in one motion with how wet you are. Yet, Agnes keeps your descent slow, careful. She watches your face with every inch you take—same as you watch hers.
Agnes’ chest is heaving, eyes dark and stormy, face pinched in concentration. She’s the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. You clench around her and her hands tighten on your waist.
“Sorry.” You murmur, out of habit.
Agnes raises a brow, but doesn’t respond, helping you down the last few inches. When you settle fully in her lap you let out the breath you’d been holding.
One hand sneaks under your skirt to trace shapes on the bare flesh of your hip.
“You pulled an interesting stunt with Vidal today.” Agnes says. The hand on your hip tightens, “I’m not so sure I should reward your behavior.”
“Then why let me…”
“Why deny myself just because you’re acting like a brat?”
There’s a small testing thrust of her hips. You clench. She groans, head falling back against the chair. You whimper. Trying to move your own hips, eager for what you’ve been denied, you find yourself held in place.
That’s not fair. All day she’s been teasing you, driving you to the edge of what you want—what you need, just to deny you.
“You started it.” You whine, trying to move your hips again, still finding yourself held stationary as she leisurely thrusts up, “You woke me up and got me all bothered, it’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, baby.”
“Please.” You whine, “It’s not my fault, please.”
Muscles in her arms tremble as she lifts you slightly before sinking you back down onto her. The fullness makes your toes curl but it isn’t enough.
“Calling me at work and getting me worked up wasn’t your fault?”
“…No.”
Agnes laughs, “If you’re going to lie, you could at least be convincing.”
You won’t win this fight by playing fair, not when Agnes is clearly uninterested in fairness.
“You… You feel so good. Can’t think properly.” You breathe, moaning a bit more than comes naturally, “I’m so full of you.”
The thrust of her is uneven. She stops moving you completely and you fight down a grin.
You press a hand between your bodies, applying pressure to your lower stomach as she continues to thrust, subtly picking up speed. Her pants are growing louder, a wheeze leaving her mouth when you press.
“That’s you.” You murmur, leaning forward and ghosting over her lips, tracing the bridge of her nose with the tip of your own. You press harder and enjoy the way she groans, “Nobody has ever been as deep inside me as you.”
“Fuck.” She snarls.
You’re pushed up again, suddenly empty, and whine, blinking at the change. But then her strong hands are on your hips and spinning you around.
Your front is pressed against the table, bent so your cheek rests on the top of it. The texture of her jeans is rough against the back of your thighs as she lines herself and fills you in one thrust.
“Oh, fuck!” You cry.
Agnes sets a brutal pace, chasing that which only you can offer. Every thrust has her cock brushing that perfect spot inside you and you lose control of whatever sounds you’re making.
“Is this what you wanted?” Agnes snarls in your ear, “For me to leave work and fuck you like some bitch in heat?”
“Yes!”
“You haven’t earned it.”
“No, Agnes, please!”
“Hold it.” She orders.
With every move she makes, you do all you can to ignore the pleasure, to pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s somewhat possible when it’s only her cock. But then she leans down and starts toying with your clit and you cry out, fighting not to roll your hips against them.
You want what you’ve been chasing all day, but you still want to be good. You’re her good girl, aren’t you? You have to keep being good even if it hurts.
So, you hold your orgasm at bay, while Agnes chases her own. Judging by the uneven rhythm of her hips it won’t take long.
“Please let me come, Agnes. Please.” You beg.
“Why should I?”
“I’ll give you anything—anything! Please, my love!”
“Anything, huh?”
The tone of her voice is low, dangerous. Layered with a rasp that nearly undoes you.
If she doesn’t let up, it doesn’t matter how good you are; you’re going to cum.
“Anything!”
Agnes phone is slammed down on the table right beside your head. It isn’t on, but you have the sinking feeling that you’ve just landed yourself into something far worse than expected.
Her thrusts stop, but she keeps a light, teasing pressure that grazes your clit just enough to keep you engaged without getting you off.
It is torture. And the silence building as you stare down the upturned cell phone is only making it worse.
“I’m going to make a call and turn on the speaker. Then, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to let whoever is on the phone hear you as I make you cum.”
The weight of it is like a lead weight of nerves in your stomach, “But—“
“If you want to act like a whore you’re going to be treated like one.” She snarls, then her tone grows softer, “Yes or no, angel?”
Whoever she calls and puts on the line, you’ll never be able to look in the eye again. But you’re so full and eager that you don’t truly care at this point.
Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, maybe everyone will be too busy to pick up.
“Yes.”
A harsh thrust that forces the air from your lungs, then her lips are next to your ear, breath hot, “That’s my girl.”
The echo of your own words from earlier make your toes curl. Her phone is snatched from the table and she continues to toy with your clit as she makes the call.
It rings… and rings… and rings…
Faintly, you hear the line connect, and you gasp.
You can’t make out who the voice belongs to, but you hear a faint, “Yeah?”
Agnes barks down the line, “Don’t say a word.”
The bang! as her phone hits the table again makes you jump, a small shriek leaving your lips. It wobbles. Faintly, you’re impressed she hasn’t broken the thing with how she abuses it.
A long finger slams down on the speaker button and as the phone tilts slightly, you read the name on the screen, and your eyes widen.
Vidal.
Before you can say a word, though, Agnes is back to work. Something in the action of being heard has made her more aggressive. You swear you can feel the bruises forming on your hips where she grabs, leveraging you for every single thrust.
You try to choke down your moans and whimpers, not wanting Agent Vidal to hear you like this, but Agnes won’t stand for it; one hand grabs your jaw and pries your mouth open.
She pushes in to the hilt and you let out a shrieking moan.
“You were so talkative before. Have you lost your nerve?”
“I—please—“
“Calling me this morning and getting me worked up, teasing me in the office, in the kitchen… and incapable of handling your punishment.”
“I’m sorry, Agnes. Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Use me. I want—I need you to fuck me until I can’t remember being without you—I need you to fuck me until you cum inside and make me yours forever—please!”
The knowledge that every word from your mouth is being heard by someone else is not forgotten, but you’ve been pushed beyond caring. Agnes is intent on making you beg for what you want and you want it bad.
Agnes’ fingers and cock alternate stimulating you. If her fingers are working, her hips aren’t—and vice versa. You’re frankly astonished she’s been able to last so long because you’re teetering on the edge of pleasure at the barest contact.
But her will has always been steel. And she wants to see you humiliated.
The hand on your clit slides to your lower stomach and presses, mimicking your own actions only minutes before, “When I knock you up, you’re going to feel it right here.”
Something inside you snaps. You wail.
Agnes’ hips are moving at a clip, every inch of her rubbing where you need, setting you alight from within. Her hand doesn’t move. The faster she goes, the deeper she drives, her hips begin to lose their rhythm.
Any words devolve into animalistic grunts as she ruts into you, mouth alternating between kissing and biting at your neck from behind.
You’re so fucking close. If she denies you now, you think you might die.
“Let me cum, Agnes, please—pretty please—I’ll be your good girl, please, I’ll be so good. Let me cum and fill me up, it’s all I want—“
Through gritted teeth, “Go on then.”
Something inside you snaps.
The command is exactly what you need. Your entire body clenches so tight you fear you may never relax again. You lose track of what noises leave your mouth, you think you may even lose consciousness for a few moments.
All you know when you come to is that your throat is raw and Agnes is driving into you, choking out in your ear, “Gonna cum—“
Her hips meet your own at full force and don’t pull back, remaining, pulsing forward as if she can’t get close enough. Every spasm of her cock paints your insides with her desire, marking you as hers. Agnes holds your hips as she presses in with every twitch, struggling to breathe.
Weakly, you reach a hand back to tangle in her hair. Your throat aches, “That’s it, baby. Fill me.”
A groan. Another rough twitch.
It reaches a point where the pressure ebbs. She remains, but she’s not twitching anymore, nor is she fighting to become one with you. There’s only the sound of your breathing in the room.
Agnes moves to straighten and pull out, but you whine, reaching back to grab whatever part of her you can reach.
“Stay.” You whisper.
She pauses.
A hand gently caresses along your spine, “You can’t stay like this, angel.”
“Just let me feel you a little longer.”
There’s a comfort in the fullness; in the knowledge that Agnes is the only woman who can provide this for you. That she even wants to.
It’s all a blur beyond that.
Eventually, you can’t stand being bent over on the table anymore, even if you never want to be without the feeling of Agnes inside you. The call with Vidal is disconnected at some point. You and your wife move slowly, hand in hand, up to your bedroom.
You gently shove her onto the bed while grabbing damp washcloths. Neither of you can stand a shower at this point.
The two of you take your time, being careful to mind the sore spots. You lean slightly into Agnes as you wipe some of the sweat from her flesh.
“You’re so good to me.” You murmur, kissing the underside of her jaw, “Thank you, my love.”
“Consider it an early Christmas gift, angel.”
You tamp down on the urge to say something sappy for her to scoff at. Instead, you guide her down and kiss her, soft and slow.
#agatha harkness x reader#agnes o'connor x reader#agatha harkness#agnes o'connor#agnes of westview#agatha all along#agatha all along x reader#agatha harkness fanfiction#agatha harkness imagine#agnes wandavision#wlw#wlw imagine#dec2024#multimilfswritings
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The Abyss Of Affection
Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)
This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess
House of the Dragon Masterlist
Taglist
Warnings: Allusions to smut
Word Count: 2308
Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics
Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy
Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)
His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went.
The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.
Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.
Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.
She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.
“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.
The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.
Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”
“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded… well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.
An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps…
She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.
She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.
Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.
“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.
Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.
Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.
Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.
“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.
“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial.
Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.
Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it.
After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.
The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.
Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.
This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.
As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.
After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.
Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.
If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.
As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.
As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.
#in my fluff era (it probably won’t last long)#angst will always call me back I fear#if anyone sees any typos no you didn't 😭#darktrashsoulbear writes#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#ewan mitchell
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one in a million
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
word count: 1.5k
summary: fluff. lando’s comfort show is revealed to the world and you only love him more for it.
warning(s): swearing, hannah montana (? lol), max f makes an appearance
a/n: i saw the interview of lando saying to oscar “you’ve never seen hannah montana?” and took that personally. hope you like it <3
lando norris masterlist
“Tell us your comfort show, Lando! What are you binge watching these days?” Max exclaims through the mic, voicing a comment from a fan in the livestream chat.
“Yeah and who has time for that?” Lando retorts, ever sarcastic in his banter with his best friend.
Max chuckles. “Man’s won two races and wants you to believe he’s working around the clock.”
“They keep us very busy, you know! In the simulator, doing media…”
“Mhm. He’s just deflecting from answering, guys. Because if he reveals the true answer Y/n’s probably gonna leave him.”
“Keep her out of this alright? I’m not deflecting from anything.”
“Sure you’re not.” Max muses. It’s apparent that Lando’s secret, a potentially embarrassing one at that, is on the tip of his tongue. He can only assume that the reactions in the chat would be good, but the way he’s toying with Lando right now is great. One of his favorite pastimes by far. “Don’t worry guys, you’re not missing much. His comfort show is not even that good anyway.”
“Stop spreading lies on stream, mate. We’re losing all credibility.”
“Did we ever have any?”
A moment of silence falls over the stream, before both men fall into a fit of suppressed laughter almost in unison, obviously failing at keeping their composure when the jokes are low-hanging fruit.
“But seriously, Max has no idea what he’s talking about. I’m not telling you guys the name of the show, all you need to know is that it has plot, humor, character development… and it’s not even a cartoon!”
“Yet you’re a little too old to be watching it, don’t you think?”
“You’re not being a very true friend, Max. Who said I’m too old to watch it?”
“Not a true friend? Is that what we’re doing?” Max catches on almost immediately to Lando’s quoting of certain song titles in his sentences, giving small hints to the viewers without completely giving it away. “I know you don’t mean that so I’ll forgive you. After all, nobody's perfect.”
“I hope you’re including yourself in that, mate.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m just like you.” Max sings his last three words, imitating the original songstress as best as he could.
“There we go, that’s more like it.” Lando smiles, amused with himself and with the way the chat is speculating who they’re referring to.
“I’m not changing my mind, it’s time for you to move on from that show. Just kiss it goodbye, Lando.”
“Are you the superfan here or am I? Because you’re quoting an awful lot of songs there.”
Max sighs, clearly taking more humor in this than he probably should. But would it be a Max Fewtrell x Lando Norris stream without a good inside joke? “Life’s what you make it, man.”
“It is what you make it. Some may say truer words have never been spoken.” Lando responds thoughtfully, clearly pondering his words. Or he’s at least pretending to.
“The fact that you get your life lessons from that show is concerning. Has anyone guessed it yet?” Max questions, carefully scanning the chat to see if there’s any mention of a certain blonde pop star.
“Well I don’t need them to guess it! If it’s my comfort show then how comforting would it be for everyone to know it?”
“They already know, mate! We’re not exactly subtle!”
“Fine, then we’ll say it on three. Ready?” Lando suggests, before counting down in unison with Max. “1…2…3…Go-fuck-yourself.”
“Hannah Montana!” Max shouts quickly, leaving an eerie silence over the stream as he bursts into laughter once again, nothing short of hysterical. “It’s Hannah Montana!”
Lando blushes slightly, his stoic expression slowly breaking before he begins laughing himself. If anyone watching didn’t know any better, they’d think he’s crying by the way he cups his face in his hands. It only provokes Max’s reaction further. Out of all of their stream moments, it goes without saying that they know there’s no way this isn’t getting clipped.
–
You’re lounging in bed when Lando returns to you from the ensuite bathroom, fresh out of the shower and ready to cuddle up to you after a long day. His heartbeat usually quickens at the sight of you anyway, but especially now as he sees you there in your shared bed. Visibly calm, cozy in one of his t-shirts, and ready to forget about the outside world with him for the night.
You can hardly peel your eyes away from the video playing on your phone, but it’s not hard once his eyes meet yours. You smile at him which is never out of the ordinary, only this time you know something he doesn’t. There’s mischief in your smirk and he immediately catches onto it.
“Congrats babe, you’re viral.” You face your phone towards him so he can see the video of himself from just hours earlier.
He throws his head back in exasperation and sighs dramatically, knowing that his suspicions have been proved correct. The little Hannah Montana moment between him & Max today was definitely clipped and had made its way into your algorithm. Lando throws the covers back and crawls in bed next to you, feeling at least a little bit soothed at the warmth of your body heat compared to the chill down his spine. He watches the video from over your shoulder, fitting in comfortably right beside you.
“I can’t believe he really went there!” You exclaim, with no urge to scroll past the video and see something else. You’d hate to make Lando feel bad, but it does get a little funnier every time.
“I can.” Lando states matter-of-factly. “He’s been holding it over my head ever since my sister let it slip that we watched it all the time growing up.” You giggle, which prompts Lando to defend himself further. “But it’s a good show! If I put on a wig and took on a new persona, my DJ career would’ve taken off by now. She’s a genius if you think about it. I mean I can’t be the only one who understands, right?”
“You’re not.” You murmur comfortingly, chastely kissing his jaw. “That show is a classic. Don’t let Max bully you into not liking it anymore. I love that you can appreciate good television when you see it, even if it’s Hannah Montana.”
“So you’re not leaving me?” Lando echoes Max’s words from earlier and beams with joy, putting an end to the pout he was putting on for dramatic effect.
“And let him win? Never.” You tease. “And you know why else I’m not?”
He breaks your gaze momentarily, feeling like his heart will turn to mush after you say what’s on your mind. If he’s honest with himself, it always does. “Why else are you not, Y/n?”
“Because you, Lando Norris, are one in a million. Hannah’s words.”
He sighs and smiles wide before giving you a proper kiss. It’s full of gratitude that you always play along, that you always flatter him until he’s blushing but most of all, for just being you. For never being embarrassed by him or hesitating to love him back the way he loves you, cheesy song lyrics be damned.
“Should we watch an episode?”
Lando rests his chin in the nape of your neck and caresses you gently. Moments like these are what makes the distance so agonizing, because you crave nothing more than to be with each other like this again. It’s what brings you back home to each other always, no matter what the coordinates say.
“Sure, baby.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trusting your judgment as you scroll through the episodes. Maybe you hadn’t seen them as often as Lando had, but they were fond childhood memories you held also. “Just not the Blue Jeans one!”
You give him a puzzled look, silently asking him to refresh your memory and explain himself.
“You know, Blue Jeans. Her horse? He gets bitten by a snake and almost dies. It’s too sad, we can’t watch that one unless I’m prepared for it, which I am not.”
“But he was okay in the end right?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him!” Lando emphasizes and you can hear the stress in his voice as he recalls the memory. “I didn’t think he was gonna recover, it’s a miracle that he did.”
You hum in agreement, amused by his passion. “Don’t worry my love, there are plenty of other episodes to choose from. I know that one is sensitive for you.”
“Promise you won’t make fun of me for it?” Lando teases, lightening the mood from his depressing story about an injured horse on TV.
You pause for a few moments, pretending to weigh your options. “Build me a closet like Hannah’s and you have a deal.” Lando smirks, picturing the image instantly. It was nothing short of a fashion lover’s dream, with shoes along the walls from top to bottom and clothes displayed in a colorful carousel.
He places a kiss on your temple, and then several behind your ears and down your neck to your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the television screen and back to him. He doesn’t really have to pause and think about it. Maybe he’s not always poetic with his words, but he knows in his heart that no gesture is too grand for you. “Consider it done.”
a/n 💌: reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#lando norris one shot#lando norris x female reader
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"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."
summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.
tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!
7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.
“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”
“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”
“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.
“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”
“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.
Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”
“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”
“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”
You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.
That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.
The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.
But then a voice shatters the stillness.
“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”
You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.
“Alright.”
You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.
The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”
Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.
You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.
The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”
She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”
You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”
She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”
“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.
Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.
“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”
Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.
“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.
“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”
The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”
“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”
That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.
And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.
You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.
“What is?”
“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”
“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.
Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”
You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.
Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.
“I’d miss you otherwise.”
The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.
By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.
Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”
“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”
“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.
“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.
You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”
There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.
One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.
Your stomach drops.
“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.
You can’t look away.
Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.
Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.
“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.
“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.
The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.
Josh had been avoiding you all day.
It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.
And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.
Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?
But it was his fault, wasn’t it?
For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.
By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.
“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.
“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”
Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”
That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.
You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.
Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.
He didn’t know how to fix this.
Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.
The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.
Neither of you slept that night.
The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.
You didn’t mean to cry.
It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.
How could he be so blind?
You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.
He didn’t.
“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”
“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.
“I—”
“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”
He didn’t.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn’t soft.
It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.
This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."
The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.
He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.
You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.
“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.
Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”
“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.
Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.
You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?
His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."
You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.
in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.
placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."
"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.
your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he starts, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.
taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you sweetly as he slides in some more, your walls wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."
after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so good for me."
just a few strokes after, he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement for him to keep going. His palms make their way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.
you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.
"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"
"Josh!"
#josh washington#josh washington smut#josh washington x reader#josh washington x you#joshua washington#until dawn#until dawn fanfics#rami malek#rami malek x reader
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More of my favorite Prudes <3
Alright, left to right, top to bottom:
1. I just get the vibe that Grace has beef with Richie specifically but for no discernable reason ("Richie, the whole point is that it's in the dark!" + "No, this is where you GROW UP!") and the second the sentence popped into my head I had to draw it. Also consider how goddamn funny the image of Grace pulling bleach and gloves and a bone saw out of her backpack is because holy shit did she have a contingency plan
2. I think that Pete saw Ted as the coolest big brother in the world right up until the exact minute he introduced him to Steph and suddenly Ted had the power to be very embarrassing in front of Pete's friends. (He would be used to this, as this is standard older sibling shithead behavior, but he's never had friends for Ted to tease him in front of.) I do think the Spankoffski brothers are really interesting, especially with what an asshole Ted is. In Abstinence Camp Pete does seem to really look up to him. Ted does not hide the fact that he's a massive prick, so the fact that Pete sees him as a positive figure implies that he's one of the very few people that Ted actually tries to be a good person for. Makes a lot of sense too, the age gap between them is massive, so Pete has no way of knowing the kind of sleazy shit Ted does, he's just the cool older brother to him. Also heheheh I did the funny meme
3. All her brothers got one so I gave Webby a humansona. I don't know why she ended up looking like 90s Gwen Stacy but I kinda like it? I was going for classic straight-a student, not quite as frilly as Grace, but very academic and cute. I also think that Webby should be allowed to be a little cosmically horrifying as a treat (watching her casually fucking evaporate Willabella was so unnerving and cool, I would love more of that.) She lets herself be soft and gentle for Hannah's benefit, don't want to scare a little kid after all, but she exists far beyond those... Limitations.
4. Ok this one is highly inspired by a series of drawings by @samglyph , the concept of Ghost Ruth and Richie took my brain captive. So go show them some love!!!!!
#i speak on the sibling stuff as an eldest sibling so#npmd fanart#npmd spoilers#nerdy prudes spoilers#nerdy prudes must die#hatchetfield#stephanie lauter#ted spankoffski#peter spankoffski#ruth fleming#richie lipschitz#webby hatchetfield#coffeepaintart#hatchetfield fanart#wow there was a lot of jazz hands during that murder
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YOU WANNA GUESS THE COLOR OF MY UNDERWEAR - CAITLIN CLARK
a/n: not proofread !! i suggest listening to the song while reading billie’s voice makes me go feral 😮💨😮💨
pairing(s): caitlin clark x female!reader
warnings: language, smut, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap on use, pure filth honestly
summary: based on this request! 𐙚
don’t have to guess the color of your underwear
already know what you got goin’ on down there
you and caitlin have been dating for a little over a year now. the two of you were currently out at dinner with a couple of her teammates celebrating a big win. she was sitting right next to you and she had been extra clingy with you all night. you weren’t exactly sure why but you weren’t complaining.
it’s that lacy black pair with the little bows
the ones i picked out for you in tokyo
earlier that night when you were getting ready you slipped on a matching set that you knew caitlin loved. the bra was black and lacy while the underwear were also black and lacy but had little black bows on either side.
she picked it out for you when on your guys’ previous trip to japan. the minute she saw it she knew it would be perfect for you. the first time she saw it actually on you she swore she fell in love with you all over again.
whenever you wore it, it absolutely drove her crazy and you knew that. so you put it on with the intention of hoping she would notice sometime throughout the night. and little did you know that’s exactly why she couldn’t keep her hands off of you the whole night.
i saw them when you sat down, they were peekin’ out
i’m gonna tell you right now, they’re all i’m thinkin’ about
at some point during the dinner you noticed her staring down at your back. you could tell that your skirt had slipped down a little and your underwear were starting to peek out.
you saw her shift uncomfortably and gulp slightly. “you ok cait?” you heard kate ask and she just nodded. she was not okay. all that she could think about was those fucking underwear and the fact that she could see the little bows creeping out.
all she wanted to do was grab you and pull you into the nearest bathroom. she sat there trying to keep herself cool. trying to think about literally anything else. but she just couldn’t help herself. she could practically feel herself getting wet at just the thought of you.
you knew exactly what was going on with her, so you decided you wanted to tease her a little bit. you moved your skirt a little so your underwear became even more exposed than before. you turned yourself so only she could see what you were doing.
you moved so close to her that you were basically on her lap at this point. no one else seemed to notice, too caught up in their own conversations to be paying any attention.
she knew exactly what you were doing and she simply couldn’t take it anymore. “hey guys i think me and y/n are gonna head out. i’m not feeling too good.” she told her teammates.
“oh okay. feel better cait.” hannah said smiling at the two of you. you all said your goodbyes before caitlin was practically pulling you out of the restaurant.
once you had may your way out, you started making your way home. she didn’t say a word to you the entire way home. you were confused by her sudden change of behavior but tried not to question it too much.
once you had arrived back to your shared apartment, caitlin was already leaning into you before you even got the door open.
i wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it
pull it to the side, and get all up in it
she picked you up and carried you over to the bed, setting you down gently. she climbed on top of you while tugging on your top. “want this off.” she whispered, sending shivers through your whole body.
you did as she said, removing your shirt which revealed the top half of the set she loved so much. she smirked at you before placing kisses to your chest and boobs. you moaned out as she started to move lower, trailing more kisses on your stomach.
she took of your skirt, finally leaving you in the full thing. she was practically drooling at the sight of you. she tugged on your underwear with her teeth causing you to let out another moan. she took one hand to pull them to the side while using the other to rub your clit.
she replaced her fingers with her mouth moving her tongue across your folds. your moans filled the room causing her to smirk at you once again. “fuck! baby feels so fucking good!” you yelled out.
she moved her tongue faster inside your hole while simultaneously using her fingers to rub your clit. you could feel yourself getting closer to your climax. you moved your hands to her hair tugging on it as she continued pleasuring you.
“want you to cum all over my tongue baby.” she said while looking up at you. the look she gave you was just enough to send you over the edge. once again, you did exactly what she said, your release landing all over her tongue.
she stood up and disappeared for a quick second before returning with the strap she had used on you one too many times before. you smiled at the sight of her undressing herself and putting it on.
kiss it, ride it, can i fit it?
she made her way back over to you returning to her spot on the bed. “you were such a naughty girl tonight. teasing me with these god damn underwear.” she snarled. “in front of all my friends…” she grabbed onto them before slowly removing them, revealing your pretty pussy.
she lined her tip up with your entrance, slamming into you with no warning. your moans became louder as she thrusted into you. “gonna have to fuck some sense into you huh?” she growled while grabbing onto your hips attempting to guide herself.
you dug your nails into her back holding onto her as she continued fucking you. “shit it’s too much cait… can’t take it.” you mumbled the pleasure starting to become too much for you to bare.
“nuh uh, i know you can take it baby.” she said fucking herself into you harder. “see just like that. good girl.” she whispered into your ear. you could tell you were close yet again and she could too. that was her sign to thrust into you one last time before you came all over her cock.
she pulled herself out of you and then proceeded to clean the two of you up. she climbed back into bed with you and pulled you closer to her. “god i love you so much.” she whispered before laying her head on your shoulder.
“i love you more cait..” you replied while positioning yourself to be more comfortable.
⇾ make sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :,)
⇾ thank you sm for reading all the way through!!! i hope you enjoyed it! i loved writing this i’m literally obsessed with this song atm. i’m planning on my next fic to be for morgan so stay tuned!!!! i love you guys 💝💝💝
#pbueckerslover °ᡣ𐭩 . ° .#caitlin clark#caitlin clark fanfiction#caitlin clark fanfic#caitlin clark fic#caitlin clark smut#caitlin clark fluff#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark imagine#caitlin clark x y/n#indiana fever#iowa women’s basketball#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#wnba#wlw#lgbtq#lesbian#bisexual#Spotify
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warm enough .
synopsis; recovering from an expected breakup, you find yourself drunk at a nearby bar, encountering an unfamiliar girl who happens to know your ex.
trope; non idol!ningning x fem!reader, uni au, fluff, a little angst, a little suggestive, strangers to lovers, feat. kep1er members :3
wc; 4.8k
cw; a little suggestive but not really
a/n; fun fact this happened to me irl ! figured i could use my experiences for stories ! everything from the breakup to the bar kiss is based on my personal experience so lol have fun. also its kinda poorly written because i wrote some of it while on the plane + in china while being very tired and i dont feel like proofreading so im sorry ^^'
The breakup was supposed to be a mutual thing. A smooth and easy agreement between you and Jimin. You guys met in a cafe when your soon-to-be-ex girlfriend finally dropped the bomb on you.
“I still care a lot about you, y/n. But I want to focus on myself and my future… I think you should too.”
You wanted to speak up, say that you didn’t want to let go yet. Just… hold on for a little longer. Maybe it’d get better if you guys just kept it going for another week. Another month. Another day?
“What I’m trying to say is…”
You always hated this part.
“I think we should break up.”
Despite the older girl being the one to initiate the ending of the relationship, you always knew it was coming. Jimin was sweet, and you definitely did enjoy the little dates you guys had been on through the past year, but there was something missing. Every time she looked at you, it seemed like she was looking through your eyes into her own. Her mind was always elsewhere whenever you two were together, like she was searching for something you couldn’t provide. She never seemed to smile around you, never laughed loudly or hugged you with warmth.
You really tried to be the person for her, you really did; but it was apparent that she was trying to convince herself you were the one as well.
It was shown in the way she bought you endless gifts with things you said you wanted, but never kissed you, In the way she would allow you to hold her hand, but never reached out herself, how she couldn’t bring herself to say “I love you” out loud. Jimin was cold.
You agreed that this was the best path to take, how you felt the exact same way and that it would be good for the both of you, but the tears that nonconsensually left your eyes said otherwise. You still remember the last words you told her before you got up to leave.
“I really hoped it was you.”
There's a saying or the other. “Your body will know if someone is right for you.” You came across it while aimlessly scrolling on social media once, and you thought it was an interesting but ridiculous concept. Countless people would share stories about how their hair would fall out or how they would break out into horrible acne when they were with their past partners, only being relieved from this when single or with their “match.”
It was funny, and you didn’t believe one bit of it until it actually happened. The tightness in your chest that followed you every time you two went out together, the stress of wondering if she actually enjoyed her company, the way you couldn’t truly relax in her presence– it all went away. It all left when she walked out of your life, and you’ve never felt more at peace with a decision. At least, for a little bit.
The breakup was the easy part. It was the recovery that ruined you.
You were the one to establish a rule of no contact, even after you both expressed wanting to stay in touch. It was your only way to hold on to the last sliver of pride you had left after spending a year chasing after Yu Jimin. The rule was established to allow you some time to heal, and you hoped to return to the girl as friends once you felt ready.
With this in mind, you then proceeded to spend a month barely eating, barely sleeping, and not leaving your apartment unless you needed to for classes. It was difficult to be on your own after dedicating so much time to her, falling behind, hoping that she would see you the way you saw her; but after about a month, you slowly felt yourself regaining your footing.
You started going out again, talking with your roommate, taking time to actually care for yourself. It was nice. Perhaps your progress would have left you comfortable enough to move on if you didn’t decide to go out that day.
There she was. Yu Jimin. After an exact 31 days of no contact with her, you finally cross paths. Quite literally, at that– but she wasn’t alone. There was a girl on her arm. She was pretty. Blonde with bobbed hair and a soft smile that made it impossible to hate her. Jimin was smiling too. This is the first time you’ve seen her smile like that, smiling as if she found what she was looking for after all of this time. She doesn't look past her. She sees her.
Jimin holds the other girl by the small of her waist the way she used to do with you, and she kisses her. She kissed her. Just like how she used to kiss you, but not exactly. There's love in her eyes. A warmth you’ve never seen before. In her eyes, there is certainty.
And that was the day your world came crashing down on top of you.
You tried to act normal as you walked past. You really did. Your eyes remain glued to your phone as your knuckles turn white. Her eyes didn’t even meet yours as you walked by. Why wouldn't she look at you? Maybe she's wondering why you won't look at her. That must be it. You hold your breath. As soon as she passed by, you couldn’t help yourself. You made the mistake of looking back.
…Nothing.
As soon as Jimin was out of sight, you cried. You ran home, scaring half the life out of your poor roommate, Xiaoting, as you collapsed in your bed. Everything hurts. Why did it hurt? You wanted this. You felt better without her— the tightness in your chest was gone.
Instead, it was replaced by an indescribably painful ache. One that felt so deep within your soul it would never heal. Quietly entering your room, Xiaoting says nothing as she sits next to your limp body on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. The gesture only makes you sob even harder.
She's been with you through it all. From the beginning of your relationship with Jimin till the end, she was there. Xiaoting really was a good friend.
From then on, Xiaoting’s one goal was simple: cheer you up. She would cook at least once for you every day despite not being the best chef, and she would allow you to rant about the same things over and over no matter how overbearing it got. Honestly, you started to feel a little bad. She shouldn’t have to bend over backwards for you just because you’re a little sad.
So when Xiaoting announces that you will be joining her at the bar with her friends tonight, you couldn't say no. Both because she stated it, not asked you, and that it simply was the least you could do for her. Especially after everything she’s done for you. Before you knew it, you were dressed up in your best (slutty) corset top and cargo pants with some hoops and over exaggerated makeup to accent the look. Xiaoting, as your best roommate and friend, matches with you, and you two make a big scene out of getting ready together; blasting music, doing each other's hair, borrowing each other's clothes, and more.
Xiaoting’s girlfriend Yujin had made herself at home for the pregame, and your mutual friend Hikaru soon followed. With Xiaoting as designated bartender, the four of you mingle, laughing and cracking jokes as the warmth of the alcohol and one another’s presence left you with a warming buzz. Xiaoting was an excellent mixer, and in combination with the chasers Hikaru bought and the drinking games Yujin proposed, you were all ready to go.
Xiaoting and Yujin led the way, hand in hand as you and Hikaru trailed behind, drunkenly singing into the cold night air as you trek to the nearest bar.
Being a Friday night, the establishment had been as packed as expected, and you all squeezed your way past other visitors as you’re guided to a nearby table. Xiaoting starts off strong, ordering shots for the entire group before utilizing her combined charm alongside her girlfriend’s looks to convince guys to purchase drinks for everyone as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the duo would bat their eyelashes innocently at lone men for drinks– but at least it worked.
Lazily, your eyes wander through the crowd, the alcohol in your system making it a struggle to see straight. Despite your inability to see properly, you still manage to catch a glimpse of your friends from the corner of your eye, and easily spot Yujin attempting to very publicly make out with Xiaoting as Hikaru struggles to pull her away. You stifle a laugh at the sight, and decide to leave the three to their antics whilst you look for someone to talk to.
It's been a while since you last struck up a conversation with a stranger. The last time you had put yourself out there was before you met…
You shake your head. No. You are not letting your stupid ex ruin your night. Knitting your brows in concentration, you scan the bar. There were plenty of pretty girls to talk to, but you were feeling a little intimidated. Almost all of them came with at least one other person, and you didn’t want to intrude on anything…
Your eyes landed on a lone blonde at the end of the table, scrolling through her phone with alcohol flushed cheeks. She seemed approachable. Worst case scenario, she simply shoos you off. Taking a deep breath, you approach the blonde, deciding to pull out your best conversation starter.
“Are you chinese? You look chinese!!” You exclaim, suddenly switching to mandarin in the middle of your sentence as you ask the question. Smooth.
The blonde girl looks as if she would’ve been extremely offended at the comment if you didn't just speak to her in her native tongue halfway through your sentence, and she quirks a brow at you, an amused smirk on her lips as she leans against the bar.
“Yeah, I am! What's a cutie like you doing in a place like this alone??”
You feel your heart begin to race. So far so good. “I'm not alone!!! My friends are just busy making out with each other and the other is trying to stop them!!” You also lean on the bar, though not as alluring as the blonde before you. More like you partially collapsed and partially slid on it.
She chortles at your response, “well that's not fair to you, leaving you here all alone.”
The sweet and somewhat sultry tone of the blonde makes (non alcohol induced) blush appear on your face as you laugh, “it really isn't! But whatever! My name is y/n by the way!! What's yours??” You scream over the music, sticking your hand out. It was an unexpectedly polite gesture considering your circumstances, and perhaps it may have seemed a bit comical as well with how drunk you were.
She giggles at the response, grabbing your hand then pulling you in, her lips dangerously close to your ear as she yells over the music, “Ning Yizhuo. But call me Ningning! It's cuter!”
You grin. Ningning was a cute nickname. You decided at this very moment you could trust this cute stranger with your life story and personal information she didn’t ask for, and begin to slur out.
“My friends dragged me out here because I was sad over my ex who moved on from me a month after the breakup even though we dated for a year and she's a big jerk for that even though I wish only the best for her but also I hope she dies!!!”
None of the words you spoke just now came out clear, and they seemed to trip over one another when leaving your mouth, but it was enough for the other girl to go from extremely relaxed to suddenly very heated. She stands up straight as her eyebrows knit together.
“To be honest I don’t think she ever really liked me in the first place! I don’t know!! Whatever it doesn’t matter!!!” You continue on, sounding absolutely pathetic as you let yourself feel through the anger you didn’t even know you were repressing, “I was stupid to stay with someone who couldn’t even look me in the eye when saying she loved me!! She was stupid to do the same!! Whatever!! I don’t know!!”
Ningning cuts you off with a raised hand before you can continue, “what the hell?! I hate people like that!! You're wayyyy too hot to be treated that way! Who is she? What's her name?? I might know her!!”
Against your better drunken judgment, you decide to name drop your ex within a university bar. Because that is always a good idea. “Yu Jimin!! She's a engineering major !!!”
Ningning’s jaw drops as she stares at you, almost as if she were trying to find the correct words for what she has to say next.
“Girl, I know her !!!” She screams out after a brief moment of silence, “we shared a class together once!! Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't know she was like that!! You deserve BETTER!”
Before you could even think of what to say in reaction to that heavy load of information, Ningning grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss. It was a very messy one, her lips almost missing your own during the exchange. Seems like she's not entirely sober either.
Still, even in your drunken state you knew what to do. Your hands immediately find Ningnings hair as you pull her in closer, and you can feel her smiling as she grazes her tongue over the bottom of your lip.
You open your mouth to let her in and the only thing that you can think of or even feel for that matter is Ningning and her tongue. She… was really good at this. Jimin never kissed you like this before. Her hands trail down your back to your ass before she squeezes it, smirking when you squirm against her touch.
She breaks the kiss, her face inches away from yours as she breathes out, “you deserve so much better…” Ningning gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping back, taking in her work with a devilish glint in her eyes. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment before whipping out your phone, fully talking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were a wreck. How did all of that happen just now?
“Done by yours truly~” Ningning winks at you, quickly slipping your phone out of your hand and typing something in.
“Wh— Wait what are you doing?”
“Giving you my number, obviously. My girls are gonna wonder where I went.” She hands back your phone and looks at you with soft eyes through her drunken daze.
“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Ningning kisses you one last time, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. She disappears into the crowd of partygoers, a sly fox-like grin on her face.
“There you are!”
You feel an arm land on your shoulder as you jump, twirling around and looking down to see a drunk Hikaru with a slightly less drunk Xiaoting and an absolutely hammered Yujin on her side.
“We should probably head back home!” Xiaoting screams into your ear, “Hikaru’s gonna knock out on the couch and Yujin will be with me!”
Her words barely make it through to you, the music and the alcohol and the adrenaline within your system muffling out every word spoken. Regardless, you still nod and trail behind your friends as you leave, not all too sure what just happened.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
You lay in bed, eyes practically burning holes into the new contact in your phone. “宁宁<3” is what it said.
So last night wasn’t just a dream. You really did just get a girl's number by doing nothing but spilling your secrets to a stranger. On top of all of that, your head was absolutely killing you, you swore you could feel your heartbeat within your brain. Still, that wasn’t important. Biting your lip, your fingers hover over the contact name. Should you message her?
y/n [10:59] — hey !! its y/n, the girl from the bar
y/n [10:59] — thanks for keeping me company last night :)
ningning [11:06] — i was wondering if u were gonna text me back
ningning [11:06] — and of course <3 jimin doesn’t know what she lost
y/n [11:08] — haha im flattered
y/n [11:08] — but u barely know me??
ningning [11:11] — that can change xx
Your eyes widen as you reread the text over and over again. Is she implying what you think she's implying? What if she's just being friendly? Can you even platonically make out with someone at the bar?
y/n [11:16] — are u asking me out on a date ning yizhuo ?
You wait.
Oh god. What if she was just being friendly?
ningning [11:18] — only if youll have me
You feel yourself blush at her message, burying your face into your pillow as you squeal like a high school teenager in love. It was embarrassing in hindsight, but.. it felt nice to be wanted.
y/n [11:19] — of course
ningning [11:19] — perfect <3
ningning [11:20] — dinner at my place tonight then?
ningning [11:20] — If youre not too hungover..
ningning [11:20] — i got the best hangover cures ;)
you can't help but arch your eyebrow at the winky face she added at the end but brushed it off, more focused on the fact that your drunk hatred towards your ex landed you a date.
You scramble to your feet and (metaphorically) kick down Xiaoting’s door, abruptly waking the girl from her nap as she screams out, “WO CAO!” She places a hand over her heart as she bolts up within her bed, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when she realizes it was just you.
“Girl what the HELL is wrong with you?!” She hisses, laying back down and throwing the blanket over her head.
You, being the ever loving and best roommate ever, respond to this by jumping into bed with (on top of) the redhead and squeezing her as tight as you can while screaming “I HAVE A DATE!!!”
Xiaoting shoots back up, your arms still latched onto her torso as she looks down at you, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?”
You hear a low groan and a hand slapping your arm as you roll your eyes, slapping the arm back as the voice of Yujin grumbles out and shuffles deeper within the sheets.
Both you and Xiaoting look at one another and giggle before she quietly slips out of bed, quickly placing a kiss on Yujins head before grabbing your arm and leading you out of her room. Once outside, she firmly grasps your shoulders.
“Okay, now tell me everything.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
You nervously stand outside of Ningnings apartment, bag clutched in hand as you look back behind you. Xiaoting sat within her car on the side of the road, keeping an eye on you to make sure this girl wasn’t going to kidnap you or the other.
The two of you (and soon enough Yujin and Hikaru) had spent the day giving you pointers on how to go about the date. They had thrown an ungodly amount of clothes your way as well as telling you endless conversation starters and compliments to give another person. By the end of it all your head was overflowing with information that you were going to forget as soon as you head out the door, and all of your closet was sprawled on your bedroom floor and in the living room. Still, the girls seemed quite proud of their work.
All of you had consecutively agreed on an outfit that was nice, but not too nice. You wore a plaid skirt paired with a simple tank top and an off the shoulder cardigan.
Holding your breath, you ring the doorbell. You really hoped this wasn’t a mistake. When was the last time you were actually on a date with someone? You couldn't remember. After a few moments of silence, you hear shuffling followed by the door unlocking and Ningning poking her head out shyly. Her eyes light up at the sight of you before opening the door completely, revealing her outfit.
She wore an oversized plaid button up, unintentionally matching with your skirt alongside baggy jeans and some bunny slippers you thought were incredibly cute. Her hair was tied up in a messy but charming bun, held up by a hair stick with small gemstones dangling from the end.
This Ningning was completely different from the one you had met at the bar last night. Though, you suppose you were a different person now as well.
“You're here! Come in come in!” She grabs your hand and guides you inside. Flustered, you spare a quick glance behind you, and you can spot the silhouette of Xiaoting throwing a thumbs up from her car before Ningning closes the door behind you.
“You look gorgeous today, by the way,” Ningning compliments, her thumb rubbing over your fingers as she walks you through her apartment. The gesture makes your cheeks warm, and you find yourself easing into her touch like putty. It was a touch that was loving. Kind. Intentional.
Her home was cozy, with white walls paired alongside warm lighting and paintings and other wall art lining the interior. There was an appetizing aroma that wafted through the air, and you had remembered that Ningning had offered to cook for you.
“What have you prepared for us tonight, chef Ningning?” You ask, squeezing her hand as she grins, “Well it's not much, I'm not a really good cook but I decided to make us some dumplings! A little basic, but it's the only dish I feel like I’ve actually perfected.”
“I hope this is the hangover cure you mentioned” you comment lightheartedly, and you sense a playful energy in the way she looks back at you.
“You'll find out soon enough.”
You once again find yourself quirking a brow at her vague answers, but she simply smiles at you innocently and you find yourself smiling back. It was hard to not be amused by her.
Ningning guides you to the kitchen, which was cleaned perfectly for your arrival. On the center of the table were multiple bamboo steamer baskets, as well as a large tea pot and a simple glass bottle with various native wildflowers as a centerpiece.
The other girl pulls out a chair for you, and you teasing grin at the polite gesture, “how romantic, Ninging~”
She rolls her eyes and giggles before settling down herself, instantaneously pouring you a cup of tea as she gestures at the baskets, “go on, dig in. I’ll be personally offended if you don’t.”
Chuckling, you open up the baskets, releasing clouds of steam before revealing multiple handmade dumplings with various fillings and differing folding styles. Your eyes widen, and you simply comment, “wow,” before taking the first bite of the food.
To say that it tasted amazing was an understatement– you practically felt like you were thrown back to the motherland with a single bite, and it wasn’t long before you were filling your plate with more.
The two of you had spent the rest of the evening getting to know one another more. You had learned she was a computer science major and going onto her third year of uni, as well as the fact she was from Harbing whilst you shared that you were from Shanghai.
“Big city girl, huh?” Ningning amusedly comments, sipping on her tea as you roll your eyes, “yeah… But I'm not rich or anything before you ask.”
The blonde feigns rejection as she snaps her fingers, “damn. I was gonna ask you to buy drinks next time we head to the bars, I think you owe me. ” She smiles at you, and it's warm.
You liked this. You liked how easy it was to talk to her. It was never this easy before.
Soon enough you had ended up on Ningning’s couch, browsing through movies aimlessly as the hefty meal threatened to send you into a food coma. The blonde lay comfortably in your arms underneath a blanket, her eyes occasionally fluttering shut as you continued to search for something to watch.
“Hmm, what about… Velocipastor?” The name completely throws you off guard, prompting you to click on it, skimming over the description as you feel the vibration of Ninging lazily humming beneath you.
“Oh that movie is really good, trust me.”
“... Really? Are you sure, Ning?”
“Yeah yeah…” Her eyes were already shut as she spoke, nuzzling in closer to you as you chuckle, putting on the movie as you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.
Honestly, the movie seemed to be an excuse for the girl to be physically close to you– maybe get a nap in? You weren’t even sure if she was watching the movie at this point. Still, maybe it was for the best. Velocipastor was definitely not well funded within its production, that much could be seen. Plus, you couldn't complain about having a cute girl in your arms.
“Does your head still hurt?”
Ningning’s soft voice rings out, startling you. Honestly, you were getting pretty invested in the film, you had thought she already fell asleep.
“Mmm, a little. I don’t think your hangover cure worked.”
“Oh, the dumplings weren’t the cure.”
Your head cocks to the side as you tear your gaze away from the tv screen, looking down at the girl nestled on your chest as she looks back up at you. There was that all too familiar glint in her eyes again.
“Then what is?”
A mischievous grin curls on her lips before she leans in, connecting her lips with yours. Still a bit sluggish from the night before alongside a hefty meal, her kissing was a bit sloppy, but it was soft. Much softer than before.
You feel yourself almost immediately sigh into the kiss, and you would have found it embarrassing if she didnt guide her hand up your chest, to your neck, and into your hair, soon deepening the kiss.
Not expecting things to escalate so soon, you couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your hands landed on her hips, nails digging into her sides desperately as she laughs against your lips, pulling back.
“You’re really cute, y’know?” She purrs, using her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you can see the hint of pink spread across her lips as she smiles, drinking in the sight of you.
Before you even have a chance to respond, Ningning tackles your jawline, trailing kisses down your face and onto your neck. You try to respond, but when she starts to nip the side of your neck, the words you wanted to say somehow managed to melt into complete mush.
“Mmhmmhgh…”
The sound that escapes your lips allows you the chance to actually feel embarrassed, and you slam a hand over your lips, looking away from Ninging. Your response elicits another laugh from the blonde, and you swear you could listen to the sound forever.
Her symphony soon quiets though, and Ningning looks you straight in the eye, her gaze softening as she opens her mouth, struggling to find the right words to say.
“Look, I know we just met…” she trails off for a moment, almost a bit shy to continue, “but if you want to give me a chance and see where this goes, I promise I’ll treat you so well.”
Her eyes are filled with genuine desire for you, and you couldn’t help but feel… Isolated? Targetted? For the first time you feel like you’re seen, and you don’t know what to do about it.
She presses on, “I’d really like to see you again, and I know you’re going through a lot right now but I want to be there with you every step of the way. I want to see where this takes us.”
“I want you, y/n.”
Your face heats up instantaneously, and you swear your eyes were threatening to bulge out of your skull right then and there. You look at her in silence as you struggle to find your words, and after a few seconds you finally croak out,
“I… I want to see where this takes us too, Ningning.”
Her eyes brighten at your response, and she beams, pulling you into a tight hug on the couch before interlocking her lips with yours once again. You giggle into the kiss, and throw the blanket over the two of you as the movie on the tv buzzed on. For the first time, you found someone warm enough for you.
#ning yizhuo#kpop x female reader#kpop fanfic#kpop#kpop x fem reader#ning yizhuo x reader#ning yizhuo x fem reader#ninging x reader#aespa x reader#ningning x fem reader#ninging x female reader#gxg#gg fanfic#kpop gg x reader#kpop gg#Spotify#xiaoting x reader#yujin x reader#hikaru x reader
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PLEASE MAKE A MEET AND GREET PART 2
♛ TWO ° •
ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you miss matt like crazy, and can’t help but to send a dirty photo to him…
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, suggestive, masturbation (female), there might be more idk
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 751
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i swear ghost and BFB part two will be coming soon🫡
thank you for 2.6K btw i love you all very much :)
texting your celebrity crush is like what happens in movies or wattpad, but the fact that you're doing just that still blows your mind. however, it's not as mindblowing when you had sex with said celebrity crush three days ago.
biting your lip, you giggle and tap on your phone like there's no tomorrow.
“are you even watching the movie? you seem to be more intrigued with your phone instead.” hannah says, leaning to the coffee table to grab the remote and pause the TV. “you’re never so glued to your phone. is it a boy? do i know him? what does— is that a hickey?”
pausing mid-type, you place your phone down and try to cover the healing hickey on your neck with your hair. “…no.”
“oh my god, it so is!” she gasps, smiling wide. “who the hell are you fucking? is it the person you're texting? when did it happen?”
“you ask a lot of questions, you know that?” you joke, trying to maneuver this conversation.
“y/n, come on. i’m your best friend. best friends tell each other everything.”
you sigh. she’s right, you guys do tell each other everything. clearing your throat and fidgeting with your hands, you try to find words to explain the recent events in your life.
“so… remember when i went to the bathroom at the sturniolo’s tour? and left you standing outside for an hour?”
she rolls her eyes. “yeah.”
“what if i told you that i actually didn’t go to the bathroom, and matt snuck me on the tour bus and… bentmeoverthetableandfuckedtheshitoutofme?”
she looks at you with eyebrows furrowed, confused as hell. “what?”
you exhale. “matt bent me over the table and may or may not have fucked the shit out of me?”
her face now morphs to shock, trying to read your body language to see if you’re lying. “what the fuck? is that why you came out limping and looking like you got manhandled?”
“yes.”
she blinks, shaking her head to take in this sudden information. “was the dick at least good?”
biting your lip, you nod. “duh.”
“hello?” you say innocently into the phone, running your hand from your stomach into your underwear.
matt’s leaning against the wall in a hallway that the venue has, far away so nobody can see nor hear him. “hi, y/n.” he chuckles.
you pout, rubbing your clit hard to get some sort of sensation rubbing through your body. “hi, matt.”
he licks his teeth and smiles smugly, knowing exactly why you wanted him to call. “whatcha doing?”
with fluttering eyes, your finger moves to your folds, moving up and down on your slit slowly. your breath hitches. “t-touching myself.” you whine. “thinking about you.”
as much as matt wants to do it himself, he can’t. the ache in his pants will last until after the show, that’s for sure.
“is that so?” he teases. you feel your wetness start to pool. “what’re thinking about, hm?”
“about the other night.” you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip. after a few long strokes, you’re wet enough to slip a finger inside.
he sighs, adjusting the phone on his ear. “you mean when i bent you over the table and bred you? or when i tongue-fucked you to where you couldn’t stand?”
moaning loudly, you insert a second finger and move them rapidly. “b-both. god, i miss the way you feel.”
“i wish i could fuck you dumb again.” he says lowly, hearing your pants and arousal all in one. “screaming so pathetically beneath me. isn’t that right?”
even though he can’t hear you, you still nod your head, arching your back when that spot gets hit at just the right angle. “yes, matt!” you moan loudly. “i miss you. i miss you so much! fuck, i’m going to cum. please let me cum.”
you ramble on as he stands there quietly to listen. the way your sounds get louder and faster the more your orgasm builds. “go ahead. nobody’s stopping you.”
clawing at the sheets with your eyes rolling back, you rut your hips on your fingers when you feel your release coat them.
“good luck tonight,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath.
he laughs, checking the time with a sigh. “i have to go. i’ll make sure to win for you.”
you hang up the phone, and not even a minute later, a picture comes rolling in. you love that he’s acting like you didn’t just cum to his voice.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings
#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#[ ♛ ] ° • meet & greet
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Things in Lackadaisy that I haven’t seen anyone talk about (starting with fun facts and ending with more serious topics)
Rocky was an escape artist for a traveling circus when he was a teenager. This is why he was able to escape the train tracks at the beginning of the story.
Horatio likes to sing, but only when no one is around.
Freckle is the only character to have a middle name in his character bio (Allen). Do the other characters have middle names?
Nicodeme used to be (or possibly still is) a wrestler known as the “Cajun Gator”.
Rocky speaks at least some French; the Savoys speak a mix of English, Creole, and French; Mordecai speaks English, Hebrew, and some German; Nina speaks English and Irish Gaelic; Viktor speaks Slovak and English; Mrs. Bapka speaks Slovak and some English.
Serafine likes practical jokes. The only one we’ve seen her play is the “hatchetman” thing with Mordecai, where she told him to kill a man with a hatchet and he actually did it. Has she played other practical jokes on him?
Ivy’s classmates know that she’s friends with gangsters, because they ask if Rocky is one of her “gangster friends” when she sneaks him into their dorm building. Ivy seems to like the attention.
Nicodeme doesn’t know his exact birthday, and he and Serafine don’t know their exact relation to each other. They could be half-siblings or cousins, or maybe not related at all.
Rocky is very knowledgeable about myths and folklore, and he’s also very well read. Considering he didn’t finish his primary education, he must have either picked this up from his mother, the McMurrays, or he developed an interest later in his life.
Rocky has frightened elderly people before, though he got along well with Mrs. Bapka.
Ivy’s father, Reuben Pepper, wasn’t just friends with Atlas— he owned a train station and helped him smuggle alcohol into the city. He must not do business with the Lackadaisy anymore, either because of Atlas’s death or for another reason. He was business partners with Atlas, but not Mitzi.
The name of Mordecai’s late baby sister, Hannah, is the combination to the safe he writes about in “Posthaste”.
Rocky doesn’t drink due to “past experience”. Did he drink before and then quit, or he see someone else drink and decide never to do it?
Mordecai shows a lot of the signs of autism. He comes across as very cold and unemotional, even with his own family members and closest friend. He doesn’t seem to feel empathy for people he doesn’t care about (often, autistic people will either feel far more empathy than is considered appropriate, or not nearly enough of it to be considered appropriate.) He has difficulty with social relationships and interaction, whether it’s casual flirting, working with others, negotiating with his boss, or developing and maintaining personal friendships. He is physically sensitive and can barely tolerate physical touch, crowded environments, or getting dirty or wet. He is very particular about the way he eats and dresses, to the point where other people point it out. He has an intense and unusual interest in geometry that confuses other people when he talks about it, but it seems to bring him comfort and excitement. (For the record, Rocky is the only one who rolls with it and asks him to tell him more.)
Both Elsa and Viktor have trauma from the war and show signs of PTSD. Viktor also used to stay at the Arbogast house to help keep them safe. When Ivy and Rocky arrive at her house, Elsa asks about Viktor and talks about him later on. This probably means that they were friends.
Corporal punishment was the standard for raising children in the early 20th century, especially in Ireland. Nina slaps Rocky and pushes him down the stairs in two different scenes. Rocky even mentions Nina caning (beating someone with a walking cane) him if he got mud on Freckle’s clothes— which might have been a joke, but it had to come from some truth. Rocky was shown to get into all kinds of trouble as a child, though we don’t see the consequences for it. At the time, “physical punishments” were considered normal, but there is now extensive, undeniable research that shows what kind of psychological damage it causes later in the child’s life. You’ve read the comic, and you know that Rocky is not mentally healthy.
#lackadaisy#rocky rickaby#lackadaisy cats#lackadaisy rocky#mordecai heller#autistic mordecai heller#freckle lackadaisy#calvin mcmurray#ivy pepper#horatio bruno#Lackadaisy horatio#lackadaisy nico#nicodeme savoy#serafine savoy#lackadaisy serafine#mrs bapka#viktor vasko#sedgewick sable#elsa arbogast#lackadaisy elsa#lackadaisy nina#nina mcmurray#autism headcanon#cw child abuse#cw alcohol#cw smoking#cw child death
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hiiii!!!!!!!! could I request best friend chan who confesses his feelings for reader on live not realizing they're watching? Hopefully this makes sense lol
|:: The chat's view on love
Author's note: Hii!!!! Thank you for much for this request!! I hope I wrote this to your expectations!! Thank you so much,I'm sorry if it's not to your expectations because it definitely did not make me happy!! But I hope it's good enough.
Synopsis: With Bang Chan's live, Stays swarm in, asking questions and such..and one slip of his tongue revealed a big detail on his life...poor boy's crush.
Warnings: Idol! Bang Chan|| fem! Reader|| nothing really, sorry if it's pretty short.
"No, Berry is actually doing good!! She's with Hannah in Australia, what are you talking about???" Chan asked the live with confused laughter, as he continued to talk with Stays on his chat. Almost a good few millions, actually.
As he answered questions, laughing softly it wasn't too big on his thoughts to really think everything through and see if Stays psycho-analyze everything he said or did. As he read out questions for himself, while playing random videos of his own entertainment.
"Chocolate or cookies and cream? I'm sorry...I gotta say cookies and cream, it's too bitter for me to eat chocolate in ice-cream." he said, shaking his head as he laughed. "How is your best-friend doing??" he read, and god was he delighted to talk about you!
He also took the time to check your texts from earlier this day, telling him to eat something, as he felt butterflies in his stomach and warmth in his chest, it was just adorable at how much you cared for him.
It felt delightful to get your texts, he didn't know why, it gave him some sort of joy...sure it meant he loved you, you're his best-friend after all, since his trainee years , but this just felt different...
Different from last month...He had no idea when it began, was it when you broke up with your stupid situationship type of boyfriend? Or was it when you personally came to see him after his group won and treated them all to dinner that night...
Maybe it was the fact that you cared for him so deeply, you got along well with Hannah and Berry and his entire family, the fact you always got a good morning and good night text for him in a weird way, how you're always ready to comfort him or others, how you're always the first to support him...It came naturally for him to fall in love with you, how couldn't he??
"They're actually doing pretty great. They recently got me a brand new rice cooker after my old one broke and I was crying to them about it...And god, was it so sweet!! It has bears drawn on it." Chan told the viewers, most commenting about "how cute!" they visualized it to be, how they'd like him to "show it!", and others as he laughed and nodded,
"I will, I will...when I can...But yeah, they've been good. I was texting them today about the new beats I was making and they told me very gently and sweetly, "go eat, la!!" and it's so cute! They're so adorable!!" he said, laughing, as he pressed his lips together to stop the biggest, giddy smile reaching his lips...
"I seriously adore them, they're such an important person in my life and I don't think I ever want to...I don't think I ever want them to leave me..or be apart and I don't want us to drift apart..I might not be making sense, but it's tr-true." he said,
"I ADORE them..." he said, before his eyes glanced up to catch the camera, and he quickly added, "Like a friend, of-course" His heart skipping a beat, as he thought of you again..perfect in his eyes, almost perfect.
He might have not noticed, but Stays definitely did. Speaking from the heart, his irises slightly growing large as he thought of you, an uncontrollable smile on his lips, the one smile where his tiny dimples start showing up as he smiles... That's love...not just admiration for a friend...
And you definitely knew it was love as you stared at the live with bright eyes, feeling flustered already, your stomach cramping in as if on a roller-coaster, you couldn't control your own smile after hearing his honey-dipped words...
The Stays watching knew the warmth those words spread, even in them...Like blankets on a particularly hard day when you simply want to cry, like the warm soup after feeling bad about yourself in the past few days, like the productivity you feel proud of after not living up to your standards, like that one friend's text after you feel left out...
It was warm and it spread to Chan's veins as he glanced at his phone, smiling down, seeing it was yours as he opened, his eyes widening as he scanned the words...
Trying to hide his urge to scream in happiness...But he heard a ping, and he quickly turned back up at camera, eyes widening a bit more that he was still Live..as he reached and looked at his phone, before hurriedly smiling towards the live and Stays,
"I-uh-I gotta go, Stays, a little-...Uh. A littl-emergency, I'm late-late to practice!!" he said, hurriedly shutting off the camera and picking up his phone, his bag and running out to see you as he struggled to put on some shoes, rushing down his apartment...tripping over his own feet slightly as he ran, smiling down at your text.
"I love you too. More than a friend though :)"
© Mxkyu--e9e. I do not give permission to modify, translate, copy or repost ANY of my works. Reblogs are very much beloved!
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