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redclercs · 1 day ago

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DELICATE✰CHARLES LECLERC.

xv. he was sunshine, i was midnight rain

— the one where you broke his heart 'cause he was nice.

❝𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥?❞ —𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝟏𝟑.

warnings: angst, not proofread and pls go easy on me i'm coming out of the worst block everrrrrrrrrr. our girlie is making poor choices pls hate her a bit for it, the last bit is charles centered. 2.23k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

by Tom Gill

The worst time to have a carreer on Public Relations is when your client is as unhinged as y/n y/ln has proven to be. Many people, myself included, can't help but feel sorry for whoever is on her team because there's only so much someone can do to put out a fire when the person burning is the same one who keeps lighting the matches.

y/n just can't stop messing up, can she? Just when her fans thought she would rise from the ashes with an outstanding movie deal, the 'Queen of Romcoms' has to go ahead and mess things up by proving that people who aren't blinded by her master manipulations are right: y/n y/ln is in fact a cheating snake.

The Deuxmoi post talking about an actress involved with a Formula 1 driver and her presence at the Italian Grand Prix last Sunday are enough confirmation of the fact. y/n is not ashamed to be seen on broad daylight with the guy that broke off her engagement.

Don't kill the messenger, y/n fans. Aidan Kim and Victoria Presley did warn you.

New York, United States, September 10th.

It feels like you've just finished unpacking when you find yourself throwing stuff in a suitcase once again. There is little to none excitement in you as you decide between a couple of blouses and recite Amy's lines outloud inside your messy apartment.

"Wait—that's not right," you huff, unaware that you've let the blouse you like the least inside the suitcase. The lines slip your mind like butter on a pan. Honestly, you've started to wonder if several of your braincells died in the past month. Nothing other than 'I want to be great or nothing' seem to have stuck. So much for how well that single line applies to your life.

"'It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life'," you mutter, picking the script up from the dining table. You have studied it a million times, gone through lines and rehearsals and a thousand other things. You have called Greta and Timothée and Saoirse and they have called you on their own accord to agree the accurate tones of scenes and interactions, and yet you are sure you are still going to mess everything up once the camera starts rolling. "God, help me."

The clock on your phone tells you it's 9:30 a.m. and you are nowhere being done with your luggage. Also, Charles' plane lands in less than an hour and you are not making it to the airport in time. He has a busy month race-wise and he has still made some time to come to New York before you leave for Boston in a couple days and you are both turned upside down with the Asian race-tour.

There is one reason—and one reason only— that Mildred has agreed that you should have these two days off. That reason is not Charles Leclerc, given the fact that she has grown to hate him even if she can admit, albeit to herself only, that he has done nothing wrong. You are supposed to be preparing more interviews and then a prolonged stage of silence while you focus on filming Little Women. Mildred has a whole plan laid out and that is another script you have to follow. No improvisations though, you have been warned.

─────────

Time has a funny way of passing by when it comes to Charles and yourself. Your whole relationship feels contained in a moment and also in a century, and every time you see each other again, even after just a few days a whole other bubble of time seems to have passed. You think it's Charles' way of making it feel special, making you feel special by looking at you like you're a part of him he's constantly missing when you're not right next to him. A 'lovesick fool' you have heard him been nicknamed by people who try to be nice, at least a little bit. Others sneer at how they can't wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over.

And it's precisely the way he looks at you before he's crushing you against his chest that makes you hold your tongue for the rest of the day. You cannot bring yourself to tell him the plan the people around you have made without asking for your input—much lesser his— to salvage your career and your reputation.

It nags at you how stupid you're being. Maybe some part of your brain did die between Sunday and today, but you are certain you won't be able to bear the disappointment in Charles' eyes when he finds out what you agreed to.

This visit is less touristy than the last time Charles came to New York. He's leaving tomorrow and you, the day after for Boston, so you want to bask in each other's company as much as possible. You go to a cupcake place and take pictures, all while Charles re-tells everything people have said about his win on Sunday. He's become even more of the Golden Boy he already was in the eyes of Ferrari fans, and you feel love swell in your chest at the fact. You love that he's loved, there's nothing he deserves more than to be loved.

"Will you show me the script now?" Charles asks, taking his light jacket off as he crosses the door to your apartment. A slight feeling of embarrassment flashes through you when you focus on the different disasters around the house but Charles either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as he makes himself comfortable on the couch where several pairs of your shoes are scattered.

"I think it would violate my contract somehow if I did," you chuckle, noticing that your travel kit toothbrush and toiletries are on the coffee table. "I was sure I had those in my luggage already," you groan, pointing at them.

Charles laughs, patting the spot next to him and motioning you over excitedly. "Can I see it please?" he elongates the 'e', with a mocking puppy eye look on his face. "Read me some of your favorite lines," he's suggested so several times and you refuse him every single one. It's not like he hasn't seen you act, Charles admitted in one of your phone calls to have binged all of your movies.

"I can't," you fall into the couch next to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "You make me nervous, it won't turn out good."

"You see me work all the time," he grumbles against your hair, "And you too, make me nervous. You're being unfair."

"Oh, booohooo," you mock, nuzzling into his neck. "Your job is far more exciting than me reciting lines."

"It is not—"

His complaint is cut short as you kiss him, once, twice, so many times you lose count and he kisses you back between snickers and fake complaints about how there's only so much his heart can take before it explodes. It's so cheesy it makes you both cringe and burst with laughter before starting the scene all over again.

A re-run of a Foodnetwork reality show is playing in the background when you open your eyes after a short-lived nap. Charles is swiping through his phone with his other arm around you, the light in the apartment has faded almost completely giving way to late evening.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" you ask pushing off of Charles' body and sit and rub your eyes. "Or should we order something?"

He locks his phone and stretches, still laying on his back. "Whatever you want to do, soleil."

You two are way too comfortable in your little cocoon to mess it up by going outside just to eat. Charles smiles, knowing you've already made your mind up.

You argue on the couch for ten minutes about what take-out to get and after you've finally placed the order on your phone, you get up to make some space the dining table.

"Here," you throw the bunch of papers at him softly. The 'Little Women' script is anotated from page one, and it is true that you probably shouldn't be showing it to him, but it doesn't really hurt anyone either. "Not a word, do you hear me, Leclerc?"

Charles laughs before crossing his heart with his index finger, eager to read about your next big thing.

You throw more stuff on your open suitcase, wipe the table down and look through your kitchen for an unopened bottle of wine while Charles reads and occassionally shouts something from the living room. He's so genuinely excited about seeing you bring Amy to life on the silver screen.

"Gooodddd, what's taking them so long?" you whine as you return to the living room. The 'your order is in progress' notification still alive on the screen of your phone. Charles doesn't seem to mind as he makes space for you to sit with him again.

"Couch potato," you stick your tongue out at him, placing your feet on his lap after reaching for the TV remote. You surf through a few channels, trying to remember what the name was of that crime documentary you wanted to watch on Netflix.

"...y/n y/ln making headlines again with her messy love life," the E! Show that's starting has your picture and Charles' next to each other.

Charles' eyes move from the last pages of the script to the TV and then to you. "Change the channel, love," he says as he reaches for the remote himself.

"Yeah," you click on the Netflix logo on the remote and the screen goes black as your phone pings, letting you know your food has been delivered to your apartment complex's lobby.

─────────

There is something beautiful about domestic life with Charles even if it just exists for scarce moments like this. The smell of coffee and the sound of his humming lull you into a peaceful state of mind as you prepare breakfast before once again leaving for the airport.

Messages from Mildred, three or four already, remind you that you must be ready for the list of things she had also reminded you of a million times already.

'how did he take it?' you read from your phone, Mildred again.

You look at Charles and open your mouth. Maybe now that he's leaving in a couple hours you'll work up the courage to tell him about how Mildred is staging your break-up right this second. Which means nothing, right? Keeping it lowkey is for the best, even for him.

Right?

You open your mouth and close it several times looking at your disheveled boyfriend and his sweet smile.

"What?"

"There's something I have to tell you," you breathe out, screwing the already too tight cap on the empty bottle of orange juice that rests on the table.

"So tell me," Charles' smile widens as he puts both elbows on the table, ready to listen.

"I'm really going to miss you." you chuckle awkwardly, and there is momentary gesture, barely perceptible, in Charles' face that tells you he knows that's not what you really wanted to say.

"Me too soleil, but we'll figure it out," he's reaching for your hand with a weaker smile on his face this time.

AFTER months of speculation about the nature of y/n's relationship with Formula 1 Pilot Charles Leclerc, a spokesperson for the actress has made an exclusive statemen for PEOPLE.

"They have never been romantically-involved," the source said. "Their friendship is undeniable but there's nothing more than that."

y/ln and Leclerc have been linked since April and spotted in public together several times, including at the Italian Grand Prix on September 3rd.

"Since becoming friendly they've ran into each other at several events," the source continues, "They are often surrounded by friends they have in common, such as Matilde Bassi and Timothée Chalamet. y/n knows it's too soon to put herself out there romantically."

Despite a rumor surfacing on an online gossip site that they took a romantic vacation together in Greece, y/n's spokesperson tells PEOPLE that "pictures are often released without context to create controversy."

Charles Leclerc has been blind-sided. Which, to be fair, in his career field is something he should be used to. But the feeling doesn't compare to being blind-sided by the person who is supposed to be your partner.

Charles understands, he always understands, or at least tries his best to do so. But this time, it really feels like he's reached his limit. It's not even about how he's become even more of the laughing-stock within his group of friends about how he's been parading y/n around and defending her honor for her to call their relationship 'casual' rather than not even getting a heads-up from her about the matter.

"Is there something you would like to talk about now, y/n?" Charles questions, trying his best not to let the anger flow into his voice.

Charles thinks the worst part is how long she stays silent, but it's not even close to what comes next.

"I tried telling you," she lies.

"When?" there is no point in hiding his anger anymore, even if he doesn't want to fight. This is one of those unavoidable things you expect to hit somewhere down the road in the relationship, not a month into it.

"I TRIED!" she repeats, unable to come up with any argument in her defense.

"You never tried! See that's the thing about you, you just wait for things to happen and then you 'try' to deal with the mess!" His accent is thickening with every word.

"If it bothers you so much—"

"What bothers me," he cuts her off, "Is how you cannot trust me with these things? What did you think I would say?!"

"Exactly what you're saying now, Charles," she sounds defeated and it manages to irk him an extra mile. "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand how you still care more about what people are going to say than about talking to me. I'm your boyfriend!"

There is another long silence during which he can hear faint yelling in the background of her side of the line. On his side of the world it's nearly midnight.

"I've been thinking," y/n nearly gasps, "That maybe we rushed things."

"Rushed things?" his voice is so small now he wonders if it can really travel half-way through the world.

"I— Maybe Mildred is right— I wasn't, I am not ready for a relationship." She stammers, and Charles can picture her pinching her thigh in that nervous tick she can't quite manage to get rid of.

"You can't even take responsibility for your own feelings?"

It's always Aidan, Victoria, Mildred... a handy list of people to put part of the blame on for when she doesn't want to say things herself.

And Charles accepts it. He accepts her messes because he wants her, but now apparently y/n doesn't even want him back.

"What do you even mean by that?" y/n scoffs.

"Can you even be honest with me, then? Say that it is you who doesn't want this relationship, y/n, don't put it on—"

"I'M NOT PUTTING IT ON ANYONE! THIS HAS BEEN A MISTAKE SINCE WE LEFT MYKONOS I—"

Charles didn't want to fight and now there is nothing to fight for, anyway. So he hangs the phone up, because sometimes things end in silence.

It's three am, and Charles Leclerc just got his heart broken.

─── team principal radio: ❝why hello there, i don't even know if you remember this fic but it is for my own peace of mind that I have to finish it!!! also i love these characters a lot, even when they're acting so selfish and stupid—looking at you y/n. Thank you if you are still here and like me, had to reread it to get to this chapter.❞

✰ paddock club members: NO PADDOCK CLUB THIS TIME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE STILL WANTS TO BE TAGGED.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines

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great-now-im-confused · 1 day ago

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Look shit is going to get bad. It's always going to get bad. But with that it means it'll get better too. What's good and bad is different for everyone. Many things that are bad for you know might stay that way. But many of them will also progress and change and actually get better. Beyond that thought, if you stay and you fight, you will get better. Maybe it is your family that'll always be crazy, maybe the political world will be beyond bleak for the foreseeable future, but if you stay you'll be able to see the things that will improve and will be good. I know so many of us have so much on our plates right now and the results of yesterday and dreadful. But please stay. I promise it'll be worth it.

Sure everything you hope for might not happen but you'll never get to know the things that WILL if you stay. I know the point of this post is mostly to address the dread many of us feel after the election. And I fully get it trust me I do. But as someone who has made that choice before and I am so grateful it didn't work for me to be able to still be here I want to share a few things.

"it gets better" is both right and wrong in my opinion. Yes sometimes the things that have you down so bad that you walk that path can absolutely get better. Sometimes they don't though and while that sucks it's okay. Because as I said before, YOU get better. (Not to run into "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" stuff because I get it, why do we have to be strong) You grow, you learn, you change. And with that growth and change your state of mind often changes too. Admittedly my life isn't too different from when I reached that point, but it's also so much better in so many ways. I'll use my family for an example. My family is so chaotic it's overwhelming and that hasn't changed, what has changed though is my ability to cope with it. I am still the one everyone runs to to fix problems. I still try to fix those problems more than I probably should, but I have started to learn to say no and to put up boundaries with them. So while yes it hasn't changed for the most part the growth I've had within myself has allowed me some space from all the chaos and it's truly helped me.

Then there's things like medication and therapy that's has helped immensely along the way. And I fully understand that not everyone has the same access to things I have been lucky enough to have along the way as the journey is different for everyone. And especially given the outcome of yesterday those things may become even harder to obtain for others. But I will say I also thought a lot of those things were out of my reach and I started asking the right questions and made it a little father (again this won't be true for everyone but hopefully will be able to at least a few)

I reached a standstill with progressing in my career because I didn't know what to do next. One day I got super lucky and met a new person who gave me so much guidance (more than I think they know) and it reignited my passion for my goals (again I know I am super lucky to find myself in that situation). My point with that is we have to be able to reach each other because you never know who you can help (with something that may be simple to you) and who can help you. You don't get to experience that if you're gone.

I'm not trying to get into my whole story or journey but I'm trying to share enough that it makes sense and is understood when I say I know what it feels like to be that low and I know what it feels like to overcome it. So please trust me on that.

I know things are scary right now. So much is uncertain and on the line. But you won't fix it by overly stressing about it and you won't fix anything is you don't stay. Times are going to get challenging and it's going to get hard and rough, but we will always be able to do something about it, especially together. So I can't help you if I leave and you can't help me if you go.

So take some time to process you frustration, your grief, and your fears. Then when you're ready take a deep breath and be prepared. Be prepared to take action. Figure out what is most important to you that you fear will change with the coming times. It could be your number 1 thing it could be a top 3-10 depending on what you have the energy for. And. Then start to learn. What can you do to help, what can you do to make a change, how can you make a difference. Then make a plan. When we all taken action things will start to be okay again.

But we can't inform each other if we're not here. We can't help if we're not here. Like OP said times have been bad before throughout history and humans have survived and we'll survive this. If you need a reminder and it won't mess you up too much look into the things people have preserved through (try not to focus too much on those tragically lost to those times because that won't help in this situation)

I know this is long and has gone all over the place but I needed to get this out because it's just part of everything swirling in my mind lately. So, sorry is it's a little hard to understand my points, if you'd like to reach out to discuss any of it with me if gladly try to be more clear on some of it I just was trying to not fully take over OP's post with my response (which I know I more than likely have by now, SORRY OP) this post just resonated with me and everything started flowing. So please just stay even if it means me typing all of this out was worth it and because you are worth it and we will work together to make it better

I hope none of you disappear in the coming days. Seriously don't do anything that can't be undone.

#truly am sorry op #and for how long and rambly it is #i just needed a place to say it and your post just happed to be the place to do so

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 10 hours ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 2

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1

There’s a note in Eddie’s locker. It flutters down to the dirty linoleum when he opens it to try and find his missing Biology textbook. He stares down at it, perplexed, until Jeff bends down to pick it up.

“Hey!” Eddie cries, snatching it out of his hand. “That’s mine!”

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff replies, leaning back into the closed locker beside Eddie’s and crossing his arms.

Eddie pays him no mind, too busy unfolding the note and bending over it to read.

He reads it again. And again. And again, each pass over the sign-off making his cheeks feel hotter.

It’s not like Eddie’s a stranger to getting notes in his locker, but they’re usually death threats. Or requests for drugs. Not…not this.

“What’s it say?” Jeff asks, breaking him from his shocked reverie.

“Nothing!” Eddie shrieks loudly enough that multiple heads turn to scowl at them. Eddie hastily stuffs the note into his pocket, and smiles at Jeff. “Let’s go get lunch, huh?”

Jeff squints at him suspiciously.

Eddie, in a desperate bid to distract him, starts rambling about this week’s campaign. It seems to work. By the time they’re settled in with matching shitty lunches, Jeff’s wheedling him for information on the next big bad instead of the note burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket.

It’s probably a joke, definitely a joke.

He finds himself combing the packed lunch tables anyway, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone paying more attention to him than usual. There’s nothing. Harrington’s letterman on a different girl, a few band geeks sitting closer together than usual, nothing else.

No one looks at him at all.

He gives it up as a bad job and forgets the note entirely until he finds a wet, pulpy mess in his pocket on his next laundry day.

A little part of Eddie mourns the only love note he’s likely ever to get, cruel prank or not.

But there’s another one there the following week. There’s an envelope this time–it’s light purple, his name written in a dark, careful black atop it.

He’s alone at his locker, no nosy friends to wheedle it out of him, but the hallway is full of other students rushing to make it to their next class, so he presses it carefully into his monster manual and bides his time.

He wants to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own home to open it. Eddie barely makes it to his van after school before he’s collapsing into the relative privacy of the windowless back and tearing through his backpack like a rabid dog.

He tries to be more careful with the envelope. But it’s sealed, and his prodding fingers tear it open in jagged lines.

That same light blue paper is nestled inside. He slips it out and unfolds it to read in the dank recesses of his parked van.

Eddie –

You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing.

You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me?

You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one.

If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay?

Yours, always,

Your Secret Admirer

It could still be a joke. Eddie wouldn’t put it past some of the jocks in the school to put their girlfriends up to a long-con. Still, his heart’s fluttering like there’s a bird stuffed in there trying to get out.

It could be a joke. But Eddie’s already mentally picking out stationary and pondering word choices. There will be a letter tucked into the designated encyclopedia come tomorrow morning.

Eddie’s got a maiden to woo.

***

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Steve hisses in Chrissy’s ear.

She bats him away, which doesn’t seem like very good girlfriend behavior to Steve, but what does he know? He’s had exactly one real girlfriend, and she’d ditched him for another guy within the year.

“He’ll respond,” Chrissy whispers back, soothing his anxiety with a gentle pat to his shoulders.

The library’s not as empty as it was the last few times. Steve feels his heartbeat kick up every time someone looks up from their coursework and glances their way. At this rate, all his hair’s going to turn gray, ruining his best feature well before there’s even a flicker of a chance to kiss Eddie Munson on the lips.

“Why did we pick the library?” Steve asks.

Chrissy pauses in front of the bookcase holding the damning shelf of encyclopedias. She raises her eyebrow at him and asks, “what, you’d prefer the boy’s bathroom?” drolly.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters quietly enough that he hopes she can’t hear him. By the way she rolls her eyes, he has no such luck.

Then, without further prompting, she bends down and pulls the WXYZ encyclopedia off the shelf. Steve’s heartbeat ratchets up as he peers over her crouched head and watches her dainty hand flip the cover open. There, tucked between the front board and the cover page, is a crisply folded piece of paper clearly ripped carelessly out of someone’s notebook.

Steve doesn’t care; he’d still open it if it was written on a used piece of toilet paper.

He reaches down past where Chrissy is still crouched to retrieve the note, but just like before, she slaps his hand back.

“Chrissy!”

She doesn’t respond, just plucks the note and slides the encyclopedia back into its place. Once standing, she links her arm with his, running soothing fingers up and down his forearm even as she pulls him along toward the back of the library.

She pushes him down into a vacant chair with deceptively strong arms; he always forgets how difficult cheerleading must be. Once he’s slumped into his own chair, she pulls the one across the table to his side and seats herself primly on it, legs crossed at her thighs.

Only then does she unfold the note and lay it gently on the table in front of him.

Secret Admirer,

I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of.

I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though.

The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day.

–Eddie

P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve reads it over and over again. Eddie’s handwriting is spiky, but carefully rendered to be readable. The post script takes a little more squinting at the page, letters and words crowding over one another like he’d added it at the last minute.

From the few classes they’ve shared, a small part of Steve was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it at all. But, no, Eddie’d taken the time to smooth out each letter, even while half convinced this was a prank. And the bit about his Uncle and his poofy hair? Adorable.

Steve brushes his fingers reverently over the words, half afraid they’ll smudge beneath his fingers. His face aches from the force of his smile.

“What should I say back?” Steve asks, looking up at Chrissy, feeling manic, hopeful, brave. Only then does he notice her carefully averted gaze, the way her body is turned just slightly away. He pushes the page toward her. “Come on, Chris, read it.”

She leans back toward him, smiling as she readjusts her body in a better position to read. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Aren’t couples supposed to share?” Steve asks, because even when he’s happy enough to beam light straight out of his pores, he’s fundamentally a bitch.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, already too absorbed in Eddie’s words to pay him any attention, not that he can blame her. Steve waits, bursting with stupid, tender feelings until she’s read the thing through and put the page back on the table, placed perfectly between them.

“So, what should I say?” Steve asks.

Chrissy, never one to make things easy on him, starts the way she’s started every other letter-writing session so far: “What do you want to say?”

***

The letter her and Steve had written together is in her bag, Steve understandably too fearful to carry it himself. She’d taken it home, used her nicer stationery and a decorative envelope because, as Steve had pointed out repeatedly, Eddie’d seemed to appreciate how pretty the last letter was.

He’d sounded almost wretched when he said it, like proof that Eddie liked the pretty embellishments she’d put on his words was all he’d needed to know that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

She hadn’t known what to say.

So, she’d taken it home, gussied it up, and brought it back to the school, waiting for an opportune moment to push it through the slats of Eddie’s locker.

Steve’s been walking her to class and to lunch, playing the dutiful boyfriend up. She likes it, all this time with him.

He’s the best boyfriend she’s ever had.

Jason, his only competition for the title, has looked more and more pinch-faced every time they’ve crossed paths. She wishes, almost, that he’d yell at her, hit her, do something. It feels like waiting for a bomb to blow.

It’s not a surprise when the explosion finally hits.

“Are you serious, Chrissy?” Jason asks, and she spins, heartbeat rabbiting in her chest to find him storming toward her. And there’s a look on his face that she’s never seen before–not even when they’d broken up that first time.

His eyes are hard, mouth open like he’s one second away from shouting, and as he speaks, both his fists clench as he steps toward her. She can’t help the way she stumbles back into Steve, feeling comforted as his arm comes out to steady her.

“You replaced me with him?” and he sneers that last word, like Steve’s gum he’s scraping off his shoe.

Jason used to go on and on about Steve back in their Freshman year, before whatever the hell that had happened with Nancy Wheeler had mellowed him out. Before that, he’d been the unmitigated king. King of the keg stand, sure, but king of the court, king of the cafeteria, king of them all, and Jason had deferred to him.

But after, as Steve closed in on himself–Carol and Tommy still distant placeholders at his sides– Jason hadn’t talked about him anymore. Like he was infected now, and whatever he had might be spreading.

Chrissy'd only liked Steve more.

So, she shores herself up with the pressure of Steve’s arm on her back and points a shaking finger directly into Jason’s enraged face. “We broke up, Jason Carver,” she says, surprised when her voice doesn’t even crack. “It’s none of your business who I see.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked, and a small part of Chrissy aches for how it was before. She always thought they’d be those high school sweethearts who got married right out of college. They’d just fit, or she thought they had.

He used to be nicer, sweet almost, in the way he’d talk to her.

It’d been a long time since Chrissy would classify any of the words coming out of his mouth as sweet.

Jason’s looking between them, eyes wide, something hurt leeching in past all that anger as he says, “you’ll come back,” in such quiet assurance that it makes her gut twist.

Chrissy watches him turn and walk away, stuck in the moment, until Steve squeezes her waist and asks, “are you alright, babe?”

It’s only with the word “babe” falling out of Steve’s lips that she realizes they’ve attracted an audience. So, she smiles like she’s leading a cheer for all to see, looks up into Steve’s eyes and replies, “never better.”

They continue on their way into lunch.

Once there, she eats as Steve watches Eddie’s latest table-top rant with hearts in his eyes big enough to see from the moon. Like he hadn’t given an almost identical one the week before. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s transfixed, like Eddie’s a succubus and Steve’s stuck in his thrall. Until she elbows him in the side and he goes back to his lunch after shooting her a wounded look.

Boys in love are stupid creatures, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect this one, even if it’s just from himself.

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic

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infamous-light · 7 hours ago

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Caught in the Middle

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Caught in the Middle

Summary: After braving the cold outside, you returned home to seek warmth by the fire, only to find Agatha and Rio eager to warm you up in their own playful, teasing ways.

Word Count: 1K

You stepped into the cozy warmth of the cottage, the wooden door creaking shut behind you as a gust of icy wind howled through the trees outside, rattling the windowpanes. You shook off the chill, tugging your coat tighter around yourself, and moved toward the hearth.

Sinking down onto the well-worn couch near the fireplace, you tried to relax, hoping for relief, but the cold still clung to your skin, gnawing at your bones. You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your knees up, and curled inward, inching closer to the fire. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to will the heat to travel deeper into your limbs, reaching your frozen fingertips and toes.

But it just wasn’t enough.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears before the door to the bedroom opened. Agatha’s gaze found you instantly and her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as her eyes raked over your shivering form.

“Cold, are we?” Agatha’s voice was smooth, with a playful edge to the words.

You nodded, your teeth chattering against each other as a shiver wracked through your body.

“Y-Yeah.” The word slipped out, weak and shaky, barely more than a whisper.

Agatha clicked her tongue in disapproval, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “I told you to wait until tomorrow to fix the fence.”

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Agatha stepped closer, her presence settling beside you with a warmth that sent a pleasant tingle down your spine. Slowly, she draped her arm around your shoulders, the weight gentle yet firm, pulling you in just a fraction closer until you could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Such a stubborn pet.” Agatha mused, her words teasing but laced with a hint of fondness.

Your cheeks warmed at her words, a flush creeping up your face that you couldn’t hide.

Before you could recover, your eyes caught sight of Rio, leaning casually against the doorframe. It took a moment for the full weight of her presence to hit you – she had been there, observing, for far longer than you'd realized. Her gaze flickered between you and Agatha, amusement dancing in her dark eyes, her smile widening as she took in the scene.

“You should have come to me for warmth instead, sweetheart.” Rio purred, her voice a low, honeyed drawl that rippled through you. “Agatha may try, but she can’t keep you warm enough… not the way I can.”

She pushed herself off the doorframe and glided over to you. Without hesitation, Rio wrapped her arm around your waist, her fingers lightly grazing your ribs as she tugged you to her side. Now, you found yourself trapped, wedged between two witches whose bodies were pressing in on you from either side, fighting against the cold with all the heat they could offer.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed sharply, her gaze flickering over to Rio, a challenge glinting there. “You think you’re warmer than me?” She hummed, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

Rio laughed, a rich, throaty sound that lingered in the air, her lips curving into a slow grin. “Oh, please, we both know I’m the better choice. Right, darling?”

Rio’s gaze held yours for a moment, intense and heavy, like she was waiting for you to agree. But you bit your lower lip, trying – and failing – to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was something thrilling about being caught in the middle of their lighthearted banter.

Agatha, watching you with a spark of amusement in her eyes, tightened her grip on your shoulder, giving you a playful squeeze.

“How about a contest?” She proposed. “Whoever makes you the warmest gets to keep you all to themselves.”

Rio’s eyes gleamed with an almost predatory delight. She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I think I’ll win,” she murmured, her voice dripping with certainty. “I always do.”

A soft chuckle escaped Agatha. “Not this time, my love.”

In an almost simultaneous motion, they both tugged you closer, sandwiching you between them. Agatha's warmth was immediate, wrapping around you like a protective, suffocating blanket, yet comforting in its closeness. She pressed you into her chest, her scent wrapping around you like a second skin, familiar and intimate. On the other side, Rio's embrace was fiery, and electric, her touch a constant spark that ignited your skin wherever it made contact. It was the kind of heat that drew you in and made you feel alive, even as it threatened to consume you.

You closed your eyes, giving into the moment, feeling the gentle weight of their arms wrapped around you.

“Are you warm now?” Agatha’s voice whispered softly against your temple.

You managed a small nod, exhaling slowly as you sank deeper into their embrace, feeling yourself melt against them.

Rio smiled down at you, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Good. Now, who’s going to be the lucky one to get you all to themselves?”

Your mouth parted, words tumbling over each other in your mind, but they failed to find their way past your lips. You loved them both too much to pick one over the other. Before you could settle on the right words to appease them, both witches exchanged a knowing look with each other.

Then, without a hint of warning, they leaned in at the same time, their lips brushing against your cheeks. The kiss was delicate, like a breath of warmth against your skin.

Agatha pulled back first, her lips curling into a subtle, teasing smile. “You’re too tempting for your own good, pet.”

Rio, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked and whispered against your ear, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll figure out who gets to claim you. I’m sure you’ll like it either way.”

The fire in the hearth was nothing compared to the heat that burned between the three of you now.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness #agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x you #agathario #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha all along fanfic #marvel #fluff

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arcanarix · 2 days ago

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Make That Double, Ch8 - Yan!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: ~7K

Warnings: non-con, exhibitionism, double penetration (in one hole and in both), mommy kink (geto calls you mamma), sex toys like dildos and nipple clamps mentioned

For more reasons you can’t wrap your head around, Geto has become far, far kinder to you.

And you know what that means.

You can’t fuck this up again.

Yes, while men can be easy to manipulate… Geto seems to be smarter than you give him credit for, as well. That’s YOUR mistake. You realize that, and now you have to conjure a new way out but that doesn’t mean you can’t poke and prod at what seems to be a shaky foundation between Gojo and Geto. You can still play it up to your advantage. It’s gotten you out of some high-time embarrassing scenarios, like the other night when Gojo wanted to test out a pair of nipple clamps he’s found while online shopping. One glance at your horrified expression and Geto refuses to entertain the possibility, even after Gojo profusely begged him to let him try it out.

“We can try it on you, Satoru,” Geto offers with a hum. Geto settles the argument with that when Gojo seems more than pleased by the idea. Tweedledum glances at you with that irritating smirk on his face as he waves the package of nipple clamps over your face.

“Just let Princess take the wheel from here, Suguru~! But then you have to let me put them on her!”

That may have been the first time the two of them allow you agency.

Well, not the only time.

When it’s just you and Geto, he doesn’t initiate all that much. Instead, he seems to allow you a bit more room to breathe after any sessions with Tweedledum there. You can’t call sweet, because that’s one word you can’t use to describe either of those two men, but it’s…considerate enough.

It’s still not enough to sway you into a certain direction, though. Because for as much as Geto insists he doesn’t expect you to return his affections, he’s let down each time you don’t acknowledge his own perceived ‘selfless’ acts.

Again, many definitions seem to have changed over the years. Apparently ‘principled’ means not killing off people without a reason (and by people, he really means young sorcerers, non-sorcerers are ‘free for alls’). ‘Selflessness’ means not forcing himself upon you when you decline his advances, and you have made a point to decline each and every one of them if he gives you the ‘illusion of choice.’

Which, again, isn’t an illusion this time around. He really does keep his hands to himself now.

More than Gojo does, at least, which is…good enough.

On your way back to the bedroom for another agonizing evening to spend with your ‘new beau,’ you stumble across a note with a bouquet of freshly picked roses resting on the foot of the bed. Your brows knit together as you pick up the note, reading its contents.

‘Meet me out in the back. We’ll have a picnic. Just us.

-Geto, S.’

You have half a mind to rip it to shreds, but you remind yourself you can’t screw this shit up again. You have to play along.

Groaning to yourself, you slip back on your robe and step back out of the room, meeting Geto in the extravagant, botanical gardens his servants maintain to perfection. If not for the circumstances, you may have taken the time to admire the beauty and the effort put into keeping up the temple’s pristine appearances.

But this temple isn’t a paradise for you. It’s your chamber of sheer torment.

You find him near the smaller, stone koi pond and fountain, where he’s rested his picnic blanket and basket. Upon sensing your presence, he glances up and smiles at you, patting the vacant spot next to him.

You don’t say a word as you accept his invitation. This is better than everything else he’s forced you into, and you keep reminding yourself not to fuck this up like a mantra.

“I figured you wanted to get some fresh air after some time,” Geto states as he sets the utensils and plates onto the blanket. You glance over at the contents of the basket—you catch some sweets from a bakery the twins like to go to nearby. Some finger sandwiches and other interesting food items you haven’t tried before. He’s even picked up some of your usual orders, perhaps for good measure.

This can’t be good news.

“That’s nice of you, Suguru,” you reply, attempting a smile as he hands you a plate.

“Did you have a good time with the twins?” he asks, tilting his head as a fond smile plays on his lips. You’re taken aback, stumbling over your answer as he places some food items onto your plate before helping himself.

“We had a great time,” you answer, “Mimiko and Nanako can’t seem to agree on a theme for their Animal Crossing home, ,though. They kept trying to get me to gang up on the other. It’s kind of adorable.”

Geto rolls his eyes at the mention of Animal Crossing.

“They probably should have gotten their own copy instead of one,” Geto murmurs, “that would have settled some issues, but I thought it was a waste of money. I can’t remember how much money Satoru wasted on Digimon games, and I don’t want them to become ungrateful for how much money I spend on them for such a dull hobby.”

“It’s not that dull,” you laugh like it’s a nervous tick for you, at this point. “Video games are a great way for a family to bond. That’s how my family and I did.”

Why are you even trying to have small talk with him?

It feels so…weird. Like there’s this barrier. You feel like you’re trying to reach some untouchable deity when you speak to him. And in some ways that’s not all that far off. Your worlds are so different from each other.

“You never talk about them,” he remarks, “Your family.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just me now. My parents died when I was a teenager and I was an only child. I don’t really know about any other family,” you shrug, nibbling mindlessly on the finger sandwich. “But I do miss them all the time. My dad was the biggest Mario nerd, so we played all of those classic games together.”

“What was your mother like?” he asks, eyes twinkling in curiosity as he inches closer to you.

“She was like any other mom I guess,” you say, “She was a lot softer though. Like, not as strict as some of my friend’s moms…”

“I see,” he hums, “I never had a close relationship with my parents. As you can imagine, I was born into a family who didn’t have sorcerers. They didn’t try to understand what was happening to me.”

That’s kind of sad…

“You’re making quite an effort for the twins to have a normal family.”

Yeah. Yet another definition which has changed…

“My girls deserve everything I never had,” Geto replies, smiling. “I can’t change my or their past, but we have a future to look forward to together.”

Maybe in another world, you may have found this truly admirable.

But this isn’t that world.

“How’s the food?” he asks quickly to change the subject, and perhaps to alleviate the tension growing between you both.

You glance at the crumbs in your hand.

“Good,” you murmur, “Fantastic. Like gourmet.”

Geto’s smile widens.

“I had the chefs prepare it special,” he explains, “But while I was out with the girls I picked up some of your orders. So help yourself.”

He gestures to all of the items laid out on the blanket.

“Of course,” you reply finally, ignoring the twist in your gut. “Thank you.”

Awkward, you muse to yourself, your lips forming a thine line.

“I really want you to be happy here,” Geto speaks up again.

Your head snaps up at that, eyes widening.

“Huh?”

A calloused hand rests on your cheek.

“It’s true,” he goes on, the hand sliding to your shoulder. He squeezes gently. Reassuringly. “While it’s best you don’t disobey me, I don’t want you to be afraid of me, either. You’re part of the family.”

What a joke. He should petition for the greatest comedian of the year if he actually expects this…

“That will take time,” you manage to bite out, your words sharper than intended but does he expect anything different? Does he honestly believe that you, after everything he has done to you, may accept this with open arms without a single complaint?

He must be out of his mind.

He pouts at that, retracting his hand (smart move, you were tempted to bite it off).

“I understand,” he sighs in defeat. For now. “It’s like I told you, I don’t need you to return my affections.” Liar. “Your cooperation is more necessary than that.”

“I know.”

He leans in to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Every time he does he tastes of fire and brimstone. Of toxins seeping deep into your skin, contaminating your body. You aren’t in love with him, and you never will be; that much you are certain. You have been dragged into this nonsense by some rotten stroke of luck, and yes, you can’t change the past, but you can see to the future.

And you don’t want a future with him.

“My little dove,” he purrs as he pulls slightly away, eyes half-mast as he takes in your features. “I wish you could let me in your world.”

There’s no chance for that.

“But I suppose I have to settle with this for now,” he continues, hovering his lips to the crook of your neck.

You flush, furtive eyes darting to either side. Out here in the open?

Why are you even surprised?

“Suguru,” you start, resting a hand on the back of his head. “Not now.”

“But no one will see,” he mutters into your skin, inhaling your scent. He smiles upon recognizing something—notes of caramel and marshmallow and amber. “You used one of the perfumes I bought you.”

Well, yeah! Of course you do. No one likes to stink. And you don’t have many options here.

“Suguru please,” you try again, and Geto makes a sound, before retracting himself from you. He still hovers close while reaching for a pastry to present to you.

“Very well,” he concedes, cutting a piece of a strawberry crepe and bringing it to your lips. “We can settle on this.”

You open your mouth and let him feed you. The rush of strawberry filling overwhelms your taste buds, but you like this better than his lips on yours. But you speak too soon, his lips finding yours again as soon as you gulp down that bite. His tongue chases remnants of that lingering taste and he hums, pulling away with a little playful nip with his canines.

“You make these sweets tolerable,” he chuckles, darting his tongue between his lips to catch any remnants of your taste.

Nasty, you think, your face falling at he sight. Ugh. Maybe it helps a little that he’s objectively gorgeous, but since he’s the kind of man he is, you can’t give him the satisfaction of even entertaining the idea that he’s objectively attractive. You try to ignore the way your heart kind of flutters whenever he glances at you with those little jewels of amethyst for eyes or whenever he draws near you to steal a kiss. It’s only because objectively, yeah, he’s attractive. That makes this a bit more bearable. Nothing more than that, right?

This is kind of pissing you off a little… what the HELL is going on in your head now? What kind of bullshit is it trying to spew at you!? Have you lost your goddamn mind?

“I need more, Mamma,” he drawls, as he sets aside the plate, digging his fingers into either side of your waist.

“Suguru…” you whimper, as his face draws close to yours and you try to crawl away. That’s asking for a death penalty here but you can’t help it. “Not out here.”

“I’ve been patient with you, Mamma. Let me touch. Satoru’s been getting all the fun, and you know how I feel about that. We came to an understanding about that, did we not?” he trails kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, and your fists clench tightly, resting on your knees.

“Ah-hem, Geto,” Suda’s voice interrupts and saves you from certain torture. She approaches the both of you, clipboard in her arms as she focuses more on the text on the page rather than what’s transpiring in front of her. Perhaps she’s witnessed more than she wanted to. “I hate to disrupt your private time, but your presence is needed. We have acquired the scammer who tried to keep money from you.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, my dear,” he sighs as he pulls away, rising to his feet. “Duty calls, but we can continue this later.” He turns to his secretary. “Suda, you can remain with her until I return.”

“Yes, Geto,” she replies, straightening her posture as he brushes past her with a displeased look on his face. Nothing grinds his gears more than conman, speaking as if he isn’t a conman himself.

He’s such a fucking hypocrite; you’ve definitely noticed.

When it looks like Geto is gone, you glance up at Suda with curiosity twinkling in your eyes—and a touch of wariness as you feel with the rest of Geto’s goons. Her wavy pink hair cascades around her heart-shaped face and her dark green eyes stun you, resembling little jewels. She stands tall and proud like a runway model, and can probably give one a run for their entire career and salary if she ever decides to go that route. You can’t help but admire another woman’s beauty—even if she probably wants nothing to do with you like everyone else around here seems to. They seem to share similar ideas when it comes to non-sorcerers: they’re scum and are better off eradicated.

She huffs, scrunching her nose in distaste as she finally addresses the likes of you. “I don’t understand what Geto’s doing with you, but as much as I don’t like it, I’m here to help a sister.”

Your ears perk up at that. That’s something you don’t expect, but it’s a welcome surprise, indeed.

“Men abusing their power over us is nothing new,” Suda remarks in a rather snide tone, but you expect nothing less when it comes to such subject matter. And of course Geto is involved. “I’d have liked to believe Geto was different in at least that regard.”

It’s a sad, but cold, hard, truth: men may swing their swords around and pound their chest like gigantic gorillas, but in reality, they’re as frail, weak, and vulnerable as chimps out in the wild. Geto isn’t removed from this fact; neither is Gojo. Neither is any other sorcerer who happens to have male anatomy.

In the end, it’s their most fatal flaw.

At least Suda understands that as well as you do.

“Why work for him, then?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

She shrugs, staring off into the distance. “Good living, I guess. Better than the dump I came from where guys would harass me all the time. He doesn’t come near me. Not like that. Just expects me to organize this circus of his.”

She gestures to the general area of the temple. Well, she’s not entirely wrong in that department—it’s decent living. Never mind the fact that her boss is a raging lunatic which apparently she’s more than aware of herself.

You tilt your head, processing the newfound information like it’s a software update. Interesting.

So even Geto’s goons know he’s not all that, either? Then what the hell are people doing here, other than for the good pay? Just for the shits and giggles? Maybe there’s got to be some other things they might benefit from in aiding a maniac like him…

“And I guess some things, I owe to Geto,” she finishes while adjusting flyaways in her hair after a gush of wind rushes by. Ah. There it is—a sense of obligation then. “But this can be between us. Even if you’re not like me, you’re still a woman.”

She doesn’t need to finish that statement. You fill in the blanks yourself. Women protect other women, and that’s that.

Even if Suda is ultimately loyal to Geto and whatever this vision of his is—it still doesn’t really add up to you, but then again, as Geto and Gojo love to preach to you, these are matters far above your scope of understanding.

“Thank you,” you murmur as a little smile plays on your lips. This is the most hopeful you’ve been since this whole thing went down, and knowing someone has your back is good enough for you for that very moment.

“Besides,” she adds, resting her clenched fists on her hips. “You being here just isn’t right, anyway. Whatever Geto wants with you, it’s for his personal gain, ultimately. I probably shouldn’t question him, but he does make a lot of questionable choices.”

Your mind flashes to when Miguel tells you something similar.

You flash her another smile. She manages a small one herself before her mask comes back full force. She strolls over to one of the benches and takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other as you both wait for Geto to return. This time, the silence is a little comforting. You fiddle with some of the remaining food on your plate, finally feeling some semblance of relief wash over you because maybe, maybe, you have fnially found your ticket out of there.

Geto finally returns, moments later, that displeased look still etched on his face as he tuts at the current situation to Suda.

“Rich men can be so foul,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Not including certain people, of course.”

You know who he means.

“What did you do with him, Master Geto?” Suda dares to ask as she rises to her feet, hugging her clipboard to her chest as she maintains an air of a professional secretary. She can flip that on and off; it reminds you much of yourself when you were still working at that bakery that had since gone out of business for obvious reasons. All workers and customers mysteriously dead, you going missing as a result. You are also presumed dead or missing to the public. That can’t look good for someone’s business if they want it to skyrocket.

“I let his curse do away with him,” he answers smoothly with a dismissive wave of his hand over his head. “If that’s all, Suda, I’d like to be alone with her now.”

Suda gives a curt nod before twisting on her heel and sauntering off. Thus far, Geto has no suspicions with you or her, but you stay on your guard nevertheless. Geto always has something up his sleeve.

Once you’re left alone with him, Geto glances down at you with a mysterious smile. You ignore the fear pricking at your insides like toxic barbs. Your hand rests on your stomach as you will yourself to relax. You have backup. You have an ally. That should have you rejoicing and dancing in glee but instead you’re still coiling every time Geto so much as glances at you?

Yet you can’t find yourself faulting yourself for that either. The man is goddamn terrifying in his own right, and he has full control over you.

But not for much longer. You just need to hold on, for just a little longer. You have already settled on having to play the long game here. Don’t get discouraged.

“Now with that interruption out of the way…” He returns to his spot next to you. “Where were we?”

“Watching the sunset,” you reply as he tries to inch himself closer to you.

Fight back. Any way you can. You remind yourself. You force down any and all emotions combating against each other in your head. They quiet down the moment you try. You try to imagine something more peaceful and serene than something like this—anything else sounds good right then. A nice trip to Paris, far away from a country where Geto and Gojo resides, enjoying a baguette and hot chocolate while someone serenades you with a violin performance.

Anything is better than this. Anything. You can’t believe how your life has gotten to this point.

Frowning, Geto glances up at the sky. The sun has just begun to set, just a blinding, shining gold glob amid a pink and blue sky.

“It is a lovely sight,” he muses, before his gaze flits back to you. “But nothing beats the sight I have right here, beside me. You truly are a work of art, my dear.”

Ah. More pretty lies. That seems to come as natural as breathing to him.

You know better than to fall for anything he says or does. They never align.

The picnic continues in a tense silence. You do appreciate the pastries he picked up for you, helping yourself to that brookie you’ve been eying for a while. Geto just watches you, content just being next to you. He doesn’t try to touch you again, which you thank the stars above for, but that’s going to be short-lived the moment you go back to the bedroom with him. He can’t control himself for all that long.

After the sun fully sets beyond the horizon, Geto gathers the items and retires with you back to bed. Instead of his servants attending to you in the restroom, he decided to take their place, preparing the shower while attending to his own business. He ties his hair long, flowy hair up in a bun as he changes into a pair of silk indigo pajamas.

You slip out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your frame and he approaches you with a bottle of lotion.

“May I?” he requests with that same, dangerous smile that you know it best not to anger.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You settle onto the edge of the tub connecting to the shower, removing your towel and allowing it to slip to the marble tiled floor. Geto starts massaging the lotion into your shoulders, slowly and softly moving down your back.

“Soft,” he praises in a little whisper, pinching a little area. You wince.

“Am I doing a good job, Mamma?” he purrs into your ear as he moves to your arms and to your breasts and stomach.

“Yes, darling, you’re doing so good, taking care of me.”

Such lies feel like toxic barbs piercing your skin.

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he asks, swirling his tongue around a nipple. Your breath hitches.

“No,” you bite your lip, grimacing at what you’re about to say next: “Good boys are supposed to do what they’re told.”

“Then what else must I do, Mamma?”

He flicks the tip of his tongue around the stiff bud, making your throat tighten. Your hands grip the edge of the tub. His hands snake up your meaty inner thighs as they stretch apart, his palms resting just before your intimates. Slender, calloused fingers brush against your skin, inching closer and closer to your nethers where he has already lubed up. Two fingers tease your outer lips, pressing them together and from the corner of your eye you see his toothy, pleased smirk as he pries your lower lips apart. The cold air hits your sensitive skin and you hiss, tightening your grip on the edge of the tub until your knuckled whiten. Your legs begin to tremble, and he gasps in delight, falling to his knees on the ground and marveling at the sight of your flushed pussy glistening in a light coat of your arousal.

He licks his lips, leaving his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as a finger easily slides into your entrance. A shaky gasp leaves your parted lips.

His finger sucks itself inside your pussy up to its knuckle. He coos as you wriggle a bit in your place.

“Shall we take this somewhere else more comfortable, Mamma?” he grunts, dipping another finger inside with a purr. “Let me get you to come once and then we can take it back to the bedroom.”

He steadies you, using his free arm snaking around your waist as he picks up a faster pace. Gentle pumps but his speed picks up each time. He groans at the feeling of your walls closing around his fingers, desperate to suck him in further, and you clench your teeth, failing to conceal your desperate whines and gasps as you can feel something inside rising, rising, rising…

“Come for me, Mamma,” he grunts, “Aren’t I being so good for you? I can always be this good. I want my Mamma to be happy with me.”

Your orgasm comes like a tight thunder clap, seeing setars behind your eyes, and you gasp out, panting as your body comes down from that high. He lets out a satisfied, arrogant little huff at his handiwork before scooping up your naked form into his arms, carrying you back to the bedroom and resting you on the plush mattress.

“Good,” he praises with a low, sultry purr as he gazes at you with that smoldering look in his eyes. His violet eyes glint with mischief and ulterior motives as he pries your legs apart, keeping them spread for him as his fingers toy with your soaked, flushed folds. “So good for me, Mamma. I just want to make you feel good.”

You shut your eyes, wishing this would end but it doesn’t seem like the torment ever does for you anymore. The minute you feel his lips kiss up either of your thighs and it’s over. He takes and takes and takes; it doesn’t matter.

You just need to hold on. Just for a little longer.

Just hold on for a little longer.

In the following few days, Geto tries to be a little more considerate of your needs. You know it’s not going to last long like all of the other times he let his desires take over, but you still are going to take advantage of the time he allows you to breathe. You’re found in the common room with the twins as they engage in a handful of classic board games. It’s a rainy day and they find they’ve grown tired of video games and want to give themselves a little detox from electronics (apart from some special condition for Nanako, which you’re a little confused about). Geto is more than happy to entertain this and watches with fondness in his eyes as Nanako bests Mimiko in another Chess match.

You are seated on the couch next to him, observing the sight yourself. You don’t have much to do in these situations—you have tired the magazines stacked under the low coffee table, and you haven’t the attention span to try out one of Geto’s long-spanning epic fantasy series. You’re running out of things that might stimulate your mind for the better, and you don’t like the sound of it. There’s only so much you can do in a situation where much of your agency has been taken away from you.

You have come to realize the longer you’re here the more time no longer matters. All that matters is just trying to find that opening, which you already have some semblance of when Suda dropped that bomb on you the other day. You just have to find another opening.

Geto calls your name and you’re ripped out of your thoughts. Somewhere you’d rather be than in the present moment.

“Mimiko was asking if you wanted to play a round of Chess with her,” he tells you, “You look a little bored.”

Yeah. Painfully, you think to yourself. It does kind of get old being your sex doll when it’s just us and then some weird nanny for your girls.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be a challenging opponent, but sure,” you reply as you take a seat by Nanako, who peers at you with a gleeful smile on her face.

“I can always sneak ya a few hints,” she giggles, “Mimiko kind of sucks at Chess anyway…”

“Nanako, that’s rude,” Mimiko chides, her face etching an expression of irritation that oddly mirrors Geto’s. Guess they do pick up a bit after their adoptive father…

“Sorryyyyy but you know I’m right!” Nanako quips while clapping excitedly. Mimiko rolls her eyes as she resets the Chess board for a new game. You can’t help the little smile on your lips while watching the interaction.

Oh, they’re definitely sisters.

Geto has no problem watching over the three of you as you entertain them with a few rounds of Chess. The first time you play against Mimiko, you lose, more on purpose because you realize you remember how to play the game better than you thought. Then you alternate, going up against Nanako, who beats you fair and square. She is a natural at this game, for sure. Rinse, lather, repeat. You win some rounds (mostly against Mimiko). You lose a lot of rounds.

Getting back into classic board games does help alleviate the boredom a little. Afterward, Nanako and Mimiko switch to Jenga, a game you haven’t touched since your own childhood. It brings so many memories flooding back to you and suddenly you wonder why all of your dreams have been taken from you. As much as these girls deserve a functioning family, you want a functioning family of your own, not manufactured like this. Not when you have been taken away against your will. You try to silence these thoughts threatening to bubble forth, focusing on building the tower and not letting it topple over.

You shouldn’t let yourself topple over with your own raging thoughts, either.

“Mom?” Mimiko addresses you with a concerned look on her face.

You freeze. She…she really calls you that now, doesn’t she? How long has it been since you have been here now? You have lost track of time. After all, time here doesn’t matter for you. Not when you have gone through the same routine again and again and again. It’s madness.

“Yes, love?” you ask, trying to sound as motherly as you can because you can feel Geto’s cold stare searing into the back of your skull. You don’t want to anger him, and you don’t want to make them feel like they’re wrong in addressing you that way. It does feel wrong, to you, but that doesn’t matter. They don’t deserve to be in the middle of this.

“Are you happy with us?”

Your jaw drops for a moment but you close it immediately.

“What has you thinking about that?”

“We’re just wondering,” Nanako pipes in while nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been with us for over a year now! Crazy, right? So… does this mean you’re really going to stay with us? That you like Mr. Geto?��

“Do you like being here with us?” Mimiko adds onto the myriad of questions Nanako is bombarding you with and you don’t know how else to respond.

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you lie with a smile. “I’m so happy to call you girls my daughters.”

“We love you, Mom,” Nanako says, pulling you in for a hug. Mimiko follows after.

“We love you,” Mimiko parrots.

“I love you both too.”

It’s another lie.

But one that won’t get you killed in the end.

The next time Satoru visits, they don’t go all that easy on you. As if they ever do regardless of what promises they spew out of their assholes for mouths.

Satoru’s handsy as usual, roughing up your breasts and biting everywhere on the sensitive skin and laughing every time you yelp or shriek from the sharpness of each bite. Geto wastes no time entering your pussy while Gojo explores every inch of your body, licking and kissing every area of exposed skin. Geto makes you come three timed before pulling himself out and disposing of that last condom while Gojo adjusts you, leading you to sit on his lap. You don’t even bother to try to wriggle or squirm because you’re no match for two grown men. Two grown men who possess abilities beyond your own comprehension. If you dare try, they may not hesitate to be meaner. Crueler.

“Ooooh, Princess, my pretty baby,” Tweedledum purrs into your ear. “You’re being so good today.”

Tweedledee behind you just hums as he approaches the two of you, vibrator in hand. “She knows we only want to take care of her, Satoru. She understands.”

This time, they still don’t insert both their dicks at once like they have entertained before, even teased and terrified you with before, but Satoru manages to squeeze a dildo alongside his cock while taking you in the ass and Geto rests a vibrator on your pussy at a moderate setting. It’s all to get you stretched out and perfect and ready to take them both in that damn hole or even in your pussy. Someday sometime soon but likely not today. They can’t stop thinking about it.

Even if Geto recognized your hesitation at first, he eventually caves to his own desires like he always does.

You cling onto Gojo’s shoulders, biting down hard on your lip because the stretch feels so wide with that mild burn yet it somehow doesn’t compare to the stretch you feel from Geto’s size by itself.

“Satoru,” you squawk like a bird and he just laughs, hand coming down to smack your ass before fondling one of those fatty cheeks of yours and making you whine again.

Geto pumps the dildo inside of you and Gojo pumps his cock in tandem. The vibrator on your pussy grinds against your clit and folds and you’re not sure you can take much more.

“Fuck, Suguru, she’s so tight,” he growls, low and guttural as he kisses into your neck, increasing his erratic pace and waiting for you to come so hard on his cock that your pussy splatters everywhere. His eyes roll back as he reclines his head onto the back of the couch; his grip around you tightens. Geto hasn’t stopped with his dextrous hands working both your dripping cunt and ass. Your juices splatter onto the ground and leave behind a large puddle beneath you. Geto slides the vibrator close to your entrance and you shout, your ass walls clenching around Gojo’s cock and the large pink dildo pumping inside you. It hurts, fuck it hurts, your head is spinning.

It’s too much. It’s too much. It’s too much. And they don’t care!

“You’re being so good for us, little dove,” Suguru purrs in approval. “Not making a fuss, letting us take care of you, because you know we’re only doing this so you can handle us, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you wheeze out, “I-I want to be good for you, Suguru…”

“Good,” he says as he switches off the vibrator. You’re relieved at first until he lines the tip of his protected cock to your entrance. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Then you’re ready for us both now.”

He chuckles darkly as he slips the head into your entrance, and you hide your face into Satoru’s chest, panting heavily. Geto has enough of a conscience to remove the dildo moving alongside Gojo’s still fully rigid, stiff cock as he fucks into your ass again.

Geto kisses into your shoulder and moans.

“You’re taking me better and better each time,” he drawls, taking his thumb to draw circles around your stiff clit as he keeps a gentler pace than Satoru does when entering you. While he still doesn’t shy away from taking what he wants, he still finds it in him to be a little kinder. Just a little. If you can call any of this kind.

“Satoru,” he calls, bringing the dildo that was just in your ass to Satoru’s lips. He opens up willingly, allowing Geto to fuck it into his mouth and get remnants of your taste off of that piece of silicone. Your heart twists in disgust from the act. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore but they do everything to get each other off with you.

Gojo slobbers over that dildo like he probably does over Geto’s cock whenever it’s just them. Some of it even splatters onto your shoulder and Geto is ‘considerate’ enough to swipe it off with his thumb. When it’s the three of you, it seems more like a competitive game between them—see who can make you come more times, see who can make you come faster, see who can make you beg or scream or cry for mercy, etc. They’re not as interested in getting all over each other (though they still do, doting on each other to the point it makes your whole body shudder, riling each other up in any way they can).

The two come practically in unison but they don’t stop until you find yourself coming two, three more times.

But apparently, the torture is not ending there today after they slip their spent cocks out of you.

“Those nipple clamps last time sure were fun,” Gojo suggests while smacking his lips at the thought. “Your nipples were so hard. So perky and perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

As if to rub salt in the wound, Gojo traces his finger around one of your nipples before pinching it, making your breath hitch. You’re too tired to try to fight them off; it’s not like you ever win anyway.

“Satoru, what did I say about picking on her?” Geto scolds but his tone sounds more amused than ever angry. But you know later those fits of jealousy or rage come out at the most random of moments, and though you have known better than to try to initiate anything with Gojo again, Geto can easily twist any situation in his favor if it means he can justify his punishments. However he chooses to exact them on you.

But he never really hurts you. Not really, no.

Geto always just finds a way to repurpose his cruelty.

Gojo huddles you close to him, flashing yhou that irritating grin of his you wish you could rip straight off his face but you can’t fight two grown men. You’re helpless in these settings. And you’re so tired of being helpless.

But that doesn’t mean you still can’t find other ways to bend and shape this all to your advantage, however small.

“Suguru,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him. “Need you.”

Satoru quirks an eyebrow at that. “What’s the matter, Princess? You tired of me?”

He can’t help but snuggle you closer into his bare chest and you drag out an impressed sigh. This is your chance; this is the only way you can get under their skin at all because you just have to remember their one fatal flaw.

“Satoru,” you murmur, “I thought you were nice. Suguru can be so much nicer than you.”

Satoru’s eyes flash at that and he almost looks pained by your rejection. “What? But baby…”

“You heard her, Satoru, so respect her wishes,” Suguru interjects with an icy stare as he scoops you up into his arms instead, casting a genuine smile at you, like he’s pleased with your submission. “She knows who best takes care of her. Don’t you think?”

You wish you could smirk yourself. No way are you ever going to truly submit to either of these pieces of shit.

Gojo scowls at his lover, before flashing a worried look at you. For some reason, he’s not buying this sudden shift, the sudden shift in preferences, but if he had half a working brain cell he’d understand that you favored neither.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Suguru’s actually been treating you better than I have, Princess,” he pouts while crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t we have something special, too?”

“Of course you both do,” Suguru interrupts again, then coos at you while you tuck your head into his shoulder with a faux look of love in your eyes. “But you remember the initial arrangement. She belongs to me, first and foremost, Satoru. All you are is part of the package.”

Gojo huffs at that. “Ugh, fine, you’re right about that, but come on, Princess, don’t you like me more?”

“I like you both just fine,” you mumble, “But right now Suguru’s being nice. You have been kind of mean lately Satoru.”

Suguru’s smile widens at that, nuzzling his face into yours before his lips smack against your cheek, and it’s an unsettling sight, indeed. You almost wonder if what you might encounter following this might be worse than if he decides to punish you for appearing to favor Satoru over him. The tension between the three of you builds with each passing second and you wonder if you should attempt to diffuse the situation but you have already dug your hole. You might as well keep digging until you find what you’re looking for.

Gojo lets out another petulant sound like the manchild he’s proven himself to be, far more so than Geto.

“I’m sorry about that, Princess. I’ll…I’ll work on it,” he replies, his lips still curled into that pathetic little pout as if he thinks that might do something for you.

However, it seems to for Geto, and that’s enough for you. Geto reaches over to Satoru and sympathetically pats him on the cheek.

“You promise to be a good boy next time you come back, Satoru, and she’ll warm up to you again,” he chucklse as he adjusts you in his arms. “You should probably head back now. Don’t you have to be in the countryside for your next mission?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, standing up and grabbing his clothes. He presses a kiss to the corner of Geto’s mouth. “Stop fucking hogging her.”

“I’m doing absolutely no such thing,” Geto counters with his lips quirking into a smirk.

Gojo only shakes his head as he disappears to clean himself up before leaving for that day. Geto mentions something in pasing about that mission likely lasting longer than usual, but you don’t really listen, shutting your eyes as Geto escorts you back to the main area of the temple.

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anghraine · 8 hours ago

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#oh op!!#I’d never considered the parallelism of lady Catherine and Mr Bennett#I feel like perhaps lady Catherine’s treatment of her charge (Anne) and her expectations of her as this grand lady as equates some how to#the possible road Darcy could have gone down with Georgianna#this is a half baked thought but anyways#you put it all into words very well here#1000000/10 (via @a-mythologynerd)

Thank you! I think that's a great reading, actually—Georgiana isn't in poor physical health or a fragile waif in appearance the way Anne is, but she's shy, vulnerable, and respects Darcy's force of personality and conviction to the point of near-awe (for instance, when the narrator briefly shifts to Georgiana's perspective, we find her believing "his judgment could not err"). It would be really easy for Georgiana to be completely overshadowed by him the way Anne has become this total nonentity in the shadow of the behemoth that is Lady Catherine's personality.

(This even extends to appearance, even though Georgiana doesn't look like Anne. Elizabeth notices on her first introduction to the Rosings ladies that while Anne isn't plain, she's forgettable and looks nothing like Lady Catherine; upon meeting Georgiana, Elizabeth thinks she's womanly and pleasant-looking but not as beautiful as Darcy. Elizabeth is not unbiased in either case, but it does seem that Darcy is physically and in demeanor a much more striking person and presence than Georgiana, much as Lady Catherine is re: Anne.)

I think we see some interesting indicators about this, actually, in Darcy's remarks about Georgiana to Lady Catherine, when Georgiana isn't even there. Lady Catherine is pushy and overbearing about Georgiana in a way that would undoubtedly overwhelm timid Georgiana if she were there. Darcy's responses are civil enough but equally clear and forceful in insisting that Georgiana does not need to be pressured.

From what we see of his relationship with his sister, Darcy seems to know how easy it would be for him (much less Lady Catherine!) to crush Georgiana's spirit without much effort. While he's a very present quasi-parental authority figure in Georgiana's life, he's clearly careful about providing opportunities for her to express things—he defends her constant musical practice, Georgiana talks more when he's around, he encourages Georgiana to join him in social niceties without putting it all on her, they write long letters to each other, etc. Anne doesn't receive this kind of careful nurturing (and as far as we know, she's never come as near to danger as Georgiana did—yet Darcy's approach to Georgiana doesn't seem at all determined by l'affaire Wickham). The Darcy siblings' relationship could end looking very much like Lady Catherine's with Anne given the temperaments involved, but instead Darcy is evidently going to a lot of pains to make sure that doesn't happen.

In a way, that (inverted) parallel reminds me of how Darcy and Lady Catherine are also paralleled in terms of their authority over the many people under their power. Both are highly active, involved authority figures in what they see as their social responsibilities where Mr Bennet is an irresponsible procrastinator (Elizabeth is nowhere near as bad as Mr Bennet, but doesn't appear to ever think about social responsibilities reaching beyond her own genteel/upper mercantile world until she meets Mrs Reynolds—by contrast to someone like Emma). There's almost a Mirror universe quality to how Darcy's proactive concern for those under his power has its recognizable but much worse counterpart in Lady Catherine sallying forth to settle her cottagers' disagreements, silence their complaints, and "scold them into harmony and plenty."

Even Lady Catherine's officious interference with Darcy's marital choices based on a plan for him made years earlier with Lady Anne has its echo in Darcy's own interference with Bingley's marital choices. Lady Catherine's motives are tied up with her relationship with her sister, with the prestige and wealth her daughter would gain (and her aggressive advancement of said daughter's interests), with her desire for an effective merger between the Darcy and de Bourgh properties via the Fitzwilliam connection (something that would benefit all three families including Lady Catherine), etc. It's not a villainous plot against Darcy, but a plan in which, on paper, everyone stands to benefit enormously (Darcy most of all, in fact)—but there's an obvious element of self-interest and self-aggrandizement in it for Lady Catherine, too.

Similarly, Darcy's motives are tied up with his relationship with his sister, who he'd like to marry Bingley. I'd argue that, socially, Bingley is far beneath what Georgiana could expect in the ordinary course of things, but not so far as to be inappropriate, and he's personally kind and gentle in ways that would be really good for Georgiana in a few years after what she's been through. But the convenience of the Darcys can't dictate Bingley's life choices and he doesn't see Georgiana that way at all.

At the same time, Darcy is also motivated by concern for Bingley's future, social advancement, and happiness based on a genuine belief that Jane is admirable but doesn't love Bingley. And Elizabeth herself earlier argued that someone who doesn't know Jane is very likely to reach that conclusion—she thought that was a good thing and Charlotte that it's unwise on Jane's part, but they agreed that it was probable before Darcy ever started evaluating Jane's behavior. His approach feels less obnoxious than Lady Catherine's because he's a more complex, intelligent, nuanced, and principled character than his aunt, and because he himself soon recognizes his misjudgment when it's pointed out to him (in very unfavorable circumstances!) and eventually takes active steps to fix things. So again, there are important differences in the finer points here—but we can still see an echo in Lady Catherine of the kind of person Darcy could be if he just lets himself follow his inclinations.

That's a lot of rambling, but I hadn't fully thought of the extra parallels/contrasts between them as parental figures, so I appreciate it!

I'm drafting a long semi-headcanon post as I try to phrase it properly, but I'm tired right now so I'll just leave you with the conclusion:

Mr Bennet has made Elizabeth into the closest feasible approximation of the son he wanted and never had, and relates to her through that framework as much as possible. Meanwhile, Lady Catherine can't quite acknowledge that her literal daughter is a disappointment to her, and instead just openly fantasizes about a totally unrecognizable version of Anne that has never existed. Her real spiritual daughter is Darcy.

#a mythology nerd #respuestas #nice things people say to me #long post #anghraine's meta #fitzwilliam darcy #lady catherine de bourgh #mr bennet #elizabeth bennet #georgiana darcy #anne de bourgh #pride and prejudice #austen blogging #jane austen #jane bennet

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nimnia · 12 hours ago

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m⚝ssing y⚝u too m⚝ch

▹ synopsis : it has been too long since you've been in tokyo, but you were glad to come back again, and this time, for bunnies' camp! now, time for some quality time with your girl...

▹ genre : fluff, a bit suggestive

▹ a/n : kakkkakkakekekadsikekekdkaakke im in love with pham pham ssi

› masterlist

upon arriving in tokyo, you were on a call with your girlfriend at the airport. hanni insisted on calling you the moment you landed, so in any ways, you had no choice but to do what she says.

with your phone against your ear, you could hear muffling noises behind the call. you hear some sort of voices, which you can recognize it as her other members talking at the background.

"where are we going to meet up, han?" you said as you walked through the exit and looked around in delight. it's been a long time since you've returned to tokyo, the last time you remembered this place was four years ago.

tokyo was your first ever country to travel with your older sister, and despite some unpleasant encounters with people, the place was just as beautiful as they were.

"where are you?! i just exited number 4!" hanni exclaims on the call, making you look at the sign above you.

"oh, i'm at exit number 8. do you want me to go to you?" you offer as you stand at the side with your luggage on your feet, waiting.

"aaah... i'll come to you! just stay there! exit number 8, right? that shouldn't be too far," she replied, another muffled shuffle was heard again and a pant from her. you blink at the sound before chuckling, leaning back on the wall.

"you don't have to run, han. i'm not going away," you comment playfully, eyes looking at the left side to where the farabout number 4 is.

"don't care! i'm excited to see you, so why wouldn't i run?!" hanni said as she continues to run, ignoring the calling behind her. you chuckle again, cheeks turning rosy at her words.

"alright, alright. i'm just here near the benches, i think you'll be able to find me, yeah?" you smile at her response, "of course! you said you were wearing my shirt right? then, you bet i'll find your pretty ass quickly!"

then before you could mutter your comment, a short gasp was heard before the call was cut off. confused, you look at your phone and blink slowly. "huh. maybe she found me already?" and right you are,

"y/n! y/n!!"

you hear your girlfriend's voice from afar. you immediately turn your head in the direction of her voice, and instantly, a large smile forms on your face.

"there yo-" you choked when hanni suddenly jumps on you and wraps her arms around your neck as tight as she didn't intend to be. you cough a few times before laughing and slid your arms around her waist.

"aww, did my honey miss me?" you cooed as you pat her waist. you chuckle when she whines on your neck, you find it cute and endearing. you took a moment to smell her perfume, smiling as it didn't hurt your nose as always.

"i missed you a lot.. it's been so long since we've met again, y/n!" she sulk as she pulls away but never releases her arms from your neck, only keeping you close. you laugh softly, "i'm sorry.. uni has been busy ever since, so i couldn't find the right time to see you again."

you pout pitifully, puppy eyes staring into her eyes. her cheeks turn red before she smiles and laughs at your beautiful face, "it's okay! i don't mind you prioritizing your studies, as long as we stay in touch with each other, which we did!"

you nodded at her words, chest warming at her reassurance. it has been 4 months since you saw her in person again, since you got so busy with your college studies and she with her idol activities, it was difficult at first, but soon enough, both of you were patient and respectful with each other.

during those lonely times, hanni never missed the opportunity to call you and talk to you in chat, and neither did you miss it as well. even while you were studying, she was just watching you through the video call and only talks when necessary or when she wants to.

and while she was practicing or organizing her room, you were always watching her through the video call and just, basically, did the same thing.

it's a mutual thing to do, a respectful thing to do with one another.

you were busy looking into her face when she leans in and kisses you softly. instantly, your eyes closed and leans more into her endearing kisses, missing her warmth and touches.

you can feel her smiling against your lips, and it causes you to deepen the kiss before pulling away with a small smile on your face. "i missed you too, han." you mumbled under your breath.

she giggles sweetly before finally pulling away from you, holding your hand. "you have your ticket for the bunnies camp, right?" she narrows her eyes at you, though she smiles when you nodded affirmative.

"of course, i did! how could i ever forget the ticket?" you laugh at her shrugging her shoulders, "well, just in case! you'll never know!" truth be told and unbeknownst to you, she had secretly bought one ticket, just in case you forgot yours.

but that's just a secret, never yours to know for now.

you hum in wonder, before hearing voices approaching both of you. you look up to see minji and hyein running towards you, "oh! min and hye!" you waved your unoccupied hand at them before getting lunged by the youngest.

"unnie!! i missed you!" she screams against your shoulder, hugging you tighter than hanni did earlier. it was a death hug, but honestly, who cares? this young girl is basically your baby sister, even when both of you aren't biological.

you hugged back, "i missed you too, chipmunk! how was your injury?"

hyein proudly shows off her legs with no cast or any bandages around it, "hehe! i'm all healed up! i've been resting for a month and i got so bored that my legs just healed by itself-" you laugh at her dark(?) humor, slapping her shoulder.

hanni groans as she shoves you, "not funny! hyein, you don't have to entertain this woman, my god!" she said to hyein who just scratches her head indifferently.

"meh."

you chuckle at her single reply, knowing how it will likely irritate the aussie-viet woman. then comes into your vision, minji slid her arm over yours, "hallo."

you smile, "hi, jiji. did haerin and dani come with you too?" in which she nods her head, "yeah, they're in the car right now with our manager. they were busy taking selfies together, so.." she shrugs.

you sigh in understanding, "of course, of course.. well, let's go before any of you get noticed!" dragging minji, you run with her ahead while the twotolz are struggling to catch up with you.

─────

"damn, i know you want to dress up for the bunnies camp but do you really have to literally glow like that, babe?"

hanni sweatdropped as she said, watching you stand in front of the mirror to check your outfit for the bunnies camp. you stare at her deadpanned through the mirror, finding her comment rather exaggerating over your outfit.

because truth be told, it was just a plain white long skirt, with your white polo underneath the brown cardigan vest that uniquely complements your overall vibes as a vintage-modernly woman.

you like this kind of style, but for your girlfriend to exaggerate?

you shake your head, embarrassed. "you're overdoing your comment, hanni! i look normal and natural here, i'm not really glowing in a literal way.." it was to cover up your flustered state, since hanni has a way to make things a bit complicated in a nice way.

hanni sighs, laying on her side on your bed— hotel's bed —with her elbow resting and cradling her head while facing your way. "you don't get it, babe. i'm not the type to lie my ways just to make you feel better,"

she gazes at you longer, "but i'm saying a fact because it is what's in front of me." her half-lidded eyes that has been staring at you longer than you possibly imagined made you feel flustered even more.

your cheeks turn rosy, "but to go that much... you could've just said i look nice, you know?" you slightly turn your body to the side to look into more of the details of your outfit, unaware of the idol woman leaving the bed and approaching you silently.

then catching a glimpse of her face through the mirror, you yelp in surprise to feel her arms wrapped around your waist and her body pressed up against your back.

"h... hanni." you stuttered quietly, embarrassed and shy at her gaze towards you through the mirror. you pressed your lips together, hands over her arms that tightens around your waist.

hanni, with her eyes closed, leans and rested her chin on your shoulder, shifting close to place her lips on your neck. your hands trembled, feeling your neck turning red and burning.

"come on..."

she hums at your timid response, finding it endearing. slowly, she brushes her lips against your neck, and her hands on your waist squeezing your body a few times, admiring you more, adoring you wholely.

your heart raced further as you feel her front pressing up against even more onto your back, as if wanting to hold you closer. you gulp, breathing hitching at every soft pecks she lands on your smooth neck.

"you smell really nice.. was it a soap or a perfume?" she mumbles against your skin, causing you to shiver at her breath touching the sensitive spot on your neck.

"it's.." you breathe, "..it's a soap. your soap," you subconsciously leans back onto her body. the warmth and needy touches speaks how much she wants you, even in a slight indirect way.

she hums lowly, pressing her lips against your skin more. "that's nice... you liked it?" she whispered, arms sneaking upwards to rest them under your chest. hands are now on your torso, underneath your arm.

your breath hitched once again, heart racing at the intimate atmosphere that this woman has built. you couldn't find your voice and couldn't even trust it under this moment, so you just nodded.

she smiles warmly on your neck, then shifts her head to kiss your neck, causing you to let out a soft exhale. "you know... i missed you a lot, babe. you don't know how much.."

she trails off as she moves her hands to hold your arm, putting them in front with her hands slowly trails across your arms to hold onto your hands. gently and lovingly, she interlocked your hands together, securely and tightly.

"do you even know how much i yearn for you? how much i really want to touch you? how much I want to see you?" your legs quivered, leaning your head against hers as she whispers these words on the crook of your neck.

you couldn't find your voice at all, nor could find the sense to ignore these feelings and twitches she causes you.

she has you wrapped around her fingers.

"but now, we're here... closer and against each other's bodies." she murmured, tightening her hold around you. you bit your lips, not knowing why you find this so hot and endearing of her.

"i wish to kiss you until you give yourself wholely to me, babe. can i? can you grant me this wish?" she pleads, desires and desperation in her voice warms your body as if sunlight was above you.

"..you talk funny, han." you managed to speak, even with a husky low voice that could barely make it out. you were burning in her arms, desperate for more of her touch and love.

she smiles endearingly, kissing your neck. "i just love you a lot, i miss you a lot. i want more of you, babe," she breathes out as if it was so natural of her. couldn't she see how much it affected you?

maybe she does, and she's doing this intentionally. she must have wanted you to fall to your knees. she must have wanted you to look at her and only her. she must have wanted you to give everything about you to her.

you spun to face her and cupped her face, staring into her wide eyes. you smile, leaning with your nose against hers. "are you doing this on purpose, hanni? what? would you like me to give you what you want, hm?"

you said under your breath. minty breath hitting her lips, with her eyes widening more and cheeks turning red. something in your eyes caused something in her stomach to shift, it was a burning desire.

she needs you now.

she claws onto your back, pulling you until no space between you is present anymore. "just before we go..." she mumbles, clouded eyes gazing into yours, her heart racing like a man in a marathon.

your husky and airy voice shook her to her core, in a good way, in a pleasurable way. "absolutely, my princess..." the moment you said this, near her face, it was all over.

perhaps you missed each other a little too much.

#newjeans #뉴진스 #newjeans hanni #pham hanni #pham hanni x reader #hanni x reader #hanni x you #fluff

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xoxochb · 2 days ago

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I've been reading ur blurbs for so long and I wanted to ask if you could write Percy x daughter of ares reader? ur my favorite pjo writer <3

— king of my heart ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - “my broken bones are mending with all these nights we’re spending up on the roof with a school girl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups”

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing per usual, making out, enemies-ish to lovers, 10 things I hate about you reference, littering (don’t do this please!), I’m TERRIBLE at writing love confessions sorry 😣 pairing: percy jackson x daughter of ares

you and percy never really got along. it was useless banter after another, purposely trying to infuriate each other all the time. and for what reason? you were unsure, that’s just the way things were and you accepted them as they were. but as a daughter of ares you suppose anger and hatred ran through you naturally

ignoring, for only a moment, that you hated the son of poseidon it was an undeniable fact that he was incredibly attractive. most people at camp would agree with you on this, it was nearly impossible for you to find someone who hadn’t, at one point, had a crush on him. you hated yourself, truly, for letting yourself see him in this way. but then again, you couldn’t help it, not when he was so… him!

in the midsts of another cabin eleven party you escaped to the roof with a plastic cup of beer. perhaps drinking your problems away will make you forget you liked your enemy of all people. though to your unfortunate luck, the very occupant of your thoughts joins you soon after

“what is that? your third cup?” asks percy, sitting down beside you. you sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to keep your composure before responding,

“fifth”

“gods of olympus…” he murmurs “don’t come crying to me when you’ve got a killer hangover”

“trust me, I won’t”

the atmosphere converted to silence following your statement. it was, though, peaceful, you enjoyed this moment. the cold midnight air nips harmfully along your exposed skin, a dress being the utterly wrong outfit choice for tonight— you suppose it had been worth it because in your defense the dress was stunning, style over comfort always

“what’re you doing up here? I mean, alone?” percy speaks up, breaking the silence

“I just wanted some peace and quiet”

he nods in understanding. you finish up the rest of you drink before throwing the cup off the roof for someone to find during clean up tomorrow morning

“you know, you’re not as vile as I thought you were”

your brows furrow confusedly. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, I just-” percy stops himself from confessing further, conquering a new excuse instead “I always thought you were a terrible person, y’know? always trying to find ways to anger me. but you don’t seem half bad, not really”

you ponder for a moment before responding, “you’re not that bad either”

faintly, just maybe a tad, out of the corner of your eyes you see percy crack a smile, maybe if your delusions weren’t taking over you might have said a light blush painted his cheeks. he glances over at you, seeing your small shivers. gods— he’s so fucked. slowly, he slides off his black leather jacket and places it on your lap suddenly, making your eyes widen in confusion

“you’re cold, aren’t you?”

oh no not the blush. “I- yes. uhm- thank you… percy”

shit, the way his name sounds rolling off your tongue is enough to make him want to do anything for you. he wonders if you were aware of the affect you held over him. the silence became awkward at this point. should you say something? or should you leave and never speak to him again? perhaps it was the alcohol, maybe you were feeling oddly confident, but before you’re aware of what’s happening, your mouth seems to be speaking for you instead

“percy, I- can I tell you something? and promise me you won’t laugh”

“you can tell me something but I can’t make any promises on the laughing situation”

you roll your eyes. “that’s fine. I just- I wanted to tell you… ask you? I don’t know, it’s weird”

“and you’re not?”

“shut the fuck up” despite his idiotic comment you can’t help but laugh. there’s no way you’re about to confess to him “I- like you. and it’s stupid, I shouldn’t like you. but I do unfortunately so now I’m stuck”

“you… like me?”

you roll your eyes. “yes, just— forget it. I’m drunk anyways”

you attempt to crawl away but percy catches you and sits you atop his lap

“drunk words” he places his finger on your mouth, then moves it to your head “are sober thoughts”

“bullshit”

“you think I’m lying?” he laughs “ask anyone here”

“I- I’m not doing that. I’m leaving”

you try to leave again but his hands quickly reach up to grab your waist and keep you in place. you glare at him so hopefully he takes a hint that you’re not having this conversation, but in response he only smirks. suddenly, you feel a warmth along your neck, only when it’s too late do you realize it’s percy’s lips. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe you had wanted this, but you didn’t push him away. though you had questions still

“percy…” you murmur despite the fuzzy television static growing through your brain. he hums along your neck sending a vibration through your body (additionally an insane heat between your legs). “I- you… are you drunk?”

“I don’t drink”

of course he doesn’t

“then what—” you quickly shut your mouth to stop any idiotic thoughts from spilling out. but at the same time percy swiftly slots his lips over yours eliciting a gasp from you. there’s no way he wasn’t drunk, it was bullshit what he says. because who just ups and kisses their enemy because they’re bored? apparently he does. he pull back angrily making him frown

“we can’t— we can’t do this. we’re enemies”

“your point?” he settles for kissing along your neck again. you let that slide for now

“we- I mean… we’re supposed to hate each other”

“who said I ever hated you?”

oh shit

“you did”

he laughs at this, shaking his head in silence. you let your drunken state take over the moment and silence you. your cheeks flush a dark pink shade when your senses are momentarily snapped back as you realize your surroundings

you’re on the roof. with percy, your enemy. who’s currently manipulating you into thinking he never hated you. and he’s got his hands under your shirt and he’s kissing your neck

you’re so fucked

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #riordanverse x reader #riordan universe #riordanverse #rick riordan #percy jackson x fem!reader

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abearinthewoods · 23 hours ago

Photo

If we get out of this, we have to find a way to understand each other, to explain why we made the choices that we did. It is the only way that we can let go of the hate. Hate is a burden. You don't have to carry it with you.

“Hate is a burden. You don’t have to carry it with you.”

#the expanse #amos burton #anna volovodov #election 2024 #politics

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pos-syscourse · 2 days ago

Text

I know you’re scared. I am too.

You have survived longer than 4 years. You have survived horrible things. And sometimes, it’s genuinely helpful to remember those horrible things. I find it relieving to remember the struggles I’ve overcome, to remember how strong I am.

Together, we are going to survive another 4 years. And during those four years, you are going to have a lot of choices to make. Some will be small — what breakfast to eat, or what show to watch. And some will be much, much bigger.

The most important one of those choices right now is to decide who you’re going to be.

Are you going to be hurtful? Are you going to spit rage like lava, bursting forth and burning those who come near? You know you deserved better than this, and it needs a release — I’m not begrudging you that.

Or maybe you can be kind. Maybe we can all be just a little kinder. Maybe we can reach out and support each other instead of pushing away those who we’re close to. Maybe we can work to be nice to those around us — even those whom we disagree with, whom we dislike, or even hate — because right now, we are all we’ve got.

Keep your friends close right now, everyone.

We are going to survive. Together.

#politics #tw politics #positivity #a different kind of positivity today #i know this isn’t syscourse #but it’s vital right now.

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badaboomx · 3 days ago

Text

Cause dancing's what I love (Bada Lee x Reader)

PAIRING: Bada Lee x Fem!Reader SETTING: Street Woman Fighter 2 AU, Reader belongs to a made-up crew. Reader challenges Bada to a battle, but with a twist. WORDS: 1.4k

ⓘ Diping my toes into writing fanfic again after a bit. I hope you enjoy it.

Gosh, this competition was TOO serious for your taste.

Battle after battle, you saw serious emotions and tension never ending. Old feuds surfaced and bubbled when people picked their opponents. Only one or two crews were actually having fun and having a gas, taking it as seriously as it should be taken, but even your own crew was caught up in the emotions of having been harshly (some say unjustly) critiqued by people who just didn’t get it. You guys won one, lost one, and now it was up to you to take the floor and challenge someone to a battle to stand your ground and show what you’re made of.

But when that mic landed in your hands you thought to shake things up a bit. Your feet moved almost by themselves and you got up on someone’s space. Someone that caught your attention.

The tall and elusive Bada Lee, the leader of Bebe, who had danced against Redy and wowed everyone with her cool swagger. But let’s back it up, why did you pick her?

Well, because when you walked in with your crew, she seemed to be… quietly surprised. If not quietly intimidated, perhaps with a dash of intrigue that she tried to hide well. The reaction of the dancers to you and your crew were mixed with respect and straight up disrespect on the hand of some of the rookies, but you dusted your shoulders and carried on.

However, from Bebe, some of the girls have made comments about you and your crew not being all that memorable, becoming noise in the background or something. Because you liked to kick stuff up, you walked up to their cubicle just as you heard that and looked around to find the girls who said it. Yet, your eyes landed on Bada who you could swear gulped as you approached, but didn’t move her gaze away. It intrigued you, like she was ready to face up to you even if you were quite a formidable foe on the dance floor. The girls who made those comments in question stared back with a quiet rage, and you were determined then to make an impression.

Most importantly, you were interested in getting that Bada to react.

“Dance with me, Bada,” you said to the mic clear and concise and the people cheered for this unexpected face-off.

Bada adjusted her cap and stood up, towering over you and putting that cool ‘idgaf’ face on as she walked over the stage.

Unfamiliar music blared from the speakers and you know it was her turn. The music overshadowed every cheer and every commentary, the world around you muffled as you observed your opponent. While she wasn’t predictable you knew and understood her style. She hit hard, her popping was unmatched and she stared at you right in the face. But something was different. While everyone else called each other out and taunted each other, Bada seemed to do more than just taunt. It was a tacit response to what you said earlier, and you understood the message.

“You wanna dance? Then let’s dance.”

She hit with precision, varied from smooth to rough, and made all those forty seconds count to her favor. The song was over and slowly transitioned to your picked song, the crowd around you cheering and your crew hyping you up to take that stage and tear it up.

The song choice was something your teammates didn’t expect, but knew what was coming after hearing just the first few notes. You were known for smooth and cool dancing, usually backed by a hip-hop track – or just plain energy backed by lively music that could make anyone smile. But you weren’t new to dancing to ‘I’m a Slave 4 U.’

Bada stood there a bit confused for a second, you could tell, her body instinctively moving to the beat like she was born to do so, but you were looking to break that cool facade of hers, to make her stumble and stutter.

So you came out of the gate swinging, embodying that slow and smooth swagger you were known for, but that dash of sensuality and that eye contact you held told everyone one thing. This wasn’t a battle for you, the way you smirked and smiled made it clear. Blending in the background and drama my ass, you were there to connect to your opponent, to get a personal victory even if you didn’t win the battle. You were about to make this fun for everyone watching.

You made sure to show off your moves, to show your versatility, using the space of the battle zone to your advantage and even facing the judges for the first few moments, and Bada could only predict one or two moves and remained cool, vibing.

But then you approached, got really close to her. Your hands on her shoulders, looking into the shadows casted by her cap, and glancing into those eyes who were fixed onto yours. You could read them in that split second, they were surprised, her body had tensed up at your touch for a second – unfamiliar. But she welcomed it just like a challenge.

‘Baby, don’t you wanna Dance above me.’

Your hands slid down her shoulders, trailing down her body as you both swayed to the rhythm, watching her lips twitch into a smile that she couldn’t contain, her arms raising and her hands landing on her head as if by instinct. Your hand grabbed a fistful of her shirt and pulled her closer, but it was not like she was pulling away either. You let go of her only to turn around and really lean against her, swaying your hips to the beat and matching. Just as you were wondering if you were breaking a rule, if you were pushing it, you felt that subtle presence of her hand on your hips, her body grinding against yours for a brief moment – like she was caught up in the moment, acting on impulse. It felt good, warm and safe, like the battle was no longer important. When you came to, you had grabbed her hand and intertwined fingers briefly before pulling away, noticing the various reactions from people all around you and even your crew who was absolutely flabbergasted, but when you turned to face Bada and finish off your set you couldn’t help but to notice the redness in her face and that slightly nervous exhalation, coupled with a smile she couldn’t shake.

Oh, she liked it, a lot. Just like you liked it a lot. And while she wasn’t visibly shaken, she was definitely taken aback.

The song was over, the announcer made sure you both heard that since it seemed like the battle had gotten way out of hand.

You both stood awaiting judgment but you knew exactly the verdict you were going to get. You didn’t really ‘battle’ as the others had, and Bada absolutely did more to showcase a true fighting spirit. You? You were just there to make the tall woman flustered, to give a strong memorable impression on people. You were doing it for fun, because you could. Confident and accomplished, you stood there without moving an inch but with a soft smile fixed on your lips; Bada on the other hand stood swaying, hands clasped together behind her, her eyes searching you every now and then but unable to stay looking at you, and not daring to not look at the judges as they thought out their votes.

Right as rain, Bada won the battle and the comments were as you expected it. Not feeling like you had to explain yourself, you merely bowed and looked forward to the next opportunity.

But when Bada turned to see you, the poor thing looked like she wanted to say something to you. However, the show had to keep going and she had to return to her cubicle to attach her second win for the night.

You didn’t mind, because once you were at your crew’s hideout, winding down from a long day of battles, a note slipped from under the door in the middle of all of you chatting your heads off about today’s event.

When you picked it up and read it, you couldn’t help your own smile.

‘Let’s do it again?’

And you didn’t need to know who signed it.

#Bada Lee Fanfics #Bada Lee Imagines #Bada x Reader #Bada Lee x Reader #Bada Lee x Fem!Reader #Bada Lee x Y/N #Bada Imagine #Bada Lee SWF2 #bada Lee x Female Reader #SWF2 #BOOM writes

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