#last time I’m using this godforsaken tag

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 1

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, cursing, no use of y/n, no description of reader (see note below), smallish age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000) (small for this fandom, anyway) (the smut comes later, y'all, we're just getting started here) a/n: Well, here we go! This is part 1. This fic is completely finished. It’s a 5+1 and for some of the 5 parts I’ll post them together (on Sundays) and for some I’ll post them separately (on Sundays and Wednesdays) just due to length. Obviously I'm posting this one early (lol). I’ll tell you whatever the schedule is for the different parts. I've paid a lot of attention to the reader's description in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. word count: 1724 (for this part) series main post & chapter list | series playlist (w/ plot-related mix) ao3 | chapter 2

Chapter 1: Meet Cute

Jackson, Early Winter, 2023

You’ve been heading northwest from somewhere in Kansas, thinking you’ve never bothered going out this way, even Before, so why not? It’s been months since you saw another person. You’re not even sure the last time you spoke out loud. 

You blame the lengthy isolation for how easily they get the jump on you. 

It's just after dawn when you're rudely awakened - at first, you’re not sure why, but a second kick to your hip sends you scrambling to sit up in your sleeping bag, which is tangled around your legs. Looking around as you struggle, you realize you’re surrounded by people on foot and on horseback. Every single one of them is pointing a gun at you. You glance to the side and realize your backpack along with anything possibly useful inside of it has been kicked away from you. The woman who kicked you has a steely look in her eye that reminds you, in your half awake state, of the last boss you had Before. 

“State your business.” As she speaks you notice the two men closest to her start to fan out a bit, but you don’t dare look away from her.

“I’m just passing through, I’ve been looking for a good place to spend the winter.”

Or, that’s what you would have said, if not for the voice from your past shouting your name in shock just as you open your mouth. “No goddamn way, is that really you?”

You think you must be hallucinating, because everyone you knew Before is dead, but then Tommy fucking Miller pushes his way in front of the woman who spoke. For a moment you can’t do more than stare at each other — him with his gun hanging limply in his right hand, you with your legs still tangled in your godforsaken sleeping bag. Then you launch into motion and start to kick it away as you find your voice. It comes out shaky. Or maybe you’re shaking all over.

“Tommy? But — you’re alive? Where the hell have you been? Wait, are Joel and—“

Tommy cuts you off as he pulls you to your feet and into a tight hug. “Holy shit, we thought you were dead. Holy fucking shit.”

“We? Tommy wait, are they—“

Tommy pulls back, keeping hold of your shoulders as he looks you in the eye. He’s grinning, his eyes wandering all over your face. “He’s alive, sunshine. Or he was when he came through here about a month ago. We’re expecting them back in the spring.”

You can feel your heart racing and your whole body feels hot and tingly. You’re overwhelmed. You didn’t think you could still feel hope like this. It’s terrifying, but you have to know. “He’s- Them? They’re both alive? Sarah?”

You know the answer before he even says anything. Tommy’s face falls, his eyes drop from yours, and you feel it like a sucker punch, as bad as it was the first time around. Your knees give out even though this is what you’ve known, or tried to convince yourself must be true, for 20 years. Tommy falls gently with you to the ground.

Your baby girl. “Oh god, Sarah. And Joel, he must have been—“

“Yeah, sunshine. He thought he lost you both. It wasn’t… well. It wasn’t good.” 

You’re starting to feel numb. You have no idea what your face is doing right now, but judging by Tommy’s, it isn’t pretty. 10 minutes ago you were alone in the apocalypse, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with your almost-brother-in-law and you know, without a doubt, that your fiancé hasn’t been dead this whole time. Is this shock? It’s been 20 years since you felt a shock like this. Since you felt anything like this. 

“Tommy, I… I need to sit down.”

“Well, you are sitting down, sunshine. But get up, gather your stuff. You can come to town with us. Stay as long as you’d like.” You nod, unsteady, and Tommy guides you carefully towards what must be his horse. 

The day passes in a daze. You think you might actually be hallucinating, or still back in your sleeping bag, dreaming, because a whole, functional town? A commune, and a house they’re just going to let you have as your own? A real community? With your only remaining family, miraculously alive? It’s impossible. You float through the rest of the day and find yourself sitting on a bed in a house with indoor plumbing that somehow belongs to you, having just eaten real food in the company of the family you thought you lost 20 years ago.

You give up and go to sleep. (What else are you going to do?)

...

As you settle into life in Jackson, the knowledge that you might see Joel — your Joel, any day now — never leaves your thoughts. It’s like a drum beat at the back of your mind that only repeats his name, marking time every hour of every day. You don’t know how you’ll prepare yourself for it. How could you? You haven’t seen him in 20 years. Anything could be different. You can so easily picture him with a daughter, but it’s Sarah in your mind, not Ellie, who Tommy has told you a bit about. Every time you open those old wounds that you’ve done your best to bury it hurts like the first time. Would he still want you? Still know you? Do you still know him? Would Ellie like you? You can’t imagine not knowing Joel, or Joel not knowing you, but it’s been 20 years and people change. You’ve changed, after all. Some days you barely recognize yourself. 

You express these fears to Tommy once, but he only laughs and says his brother may be stupid but he’s not stupid enough not to want you. It’s reassuring and rude, so, exactly like Tommy. At least some things never change.

The day Joel Miller walks back into Jackson you happen to be standing on the road near the gates, talking to Tommy, and you swear he spots you in less than 5 seconds. It’s like you can’t help but look to each other first, even when you don’t know the other is alive, even when you haven’t seen each other in 20 years. You’d know the shape of him anywhere and your eyes have never stopped looking for it, never stopped catching on a set of shoulders, a cocked hip, a tilted head, only to be disappointed when it faded like a mirage. When the person in front of you didn’t fit the hole he left behind. It hurt every time. Maybe it’s been the same for him. 

Joel looks like he’s seen a ghost, and you have no idea what expression is on your face, but the moment you lock eyes all you see is the moment you first met, almost 24 years ago, like a film negative laid on top of what’s really in front of you. He’s older, of course, but so are you, and he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He steps towards you and whispers your name like a prayer.

Joel fucking Miller. 

Austin, Summer 2000

It was a Saturday morning in late summer, so not yet the hottest part of the day, but not comfortable, either. Your belongings were steadily moving from the truck to your new rental house under your somewhat careful supervision when movement from the house next door caught your eye. You looked up just as one of the guys from the moving company almost dropped your nightstand off the back of the truck, distracting you from the sight of a young girl, maybe about 10, rocketing out of the house next door and down her front steps. She was wearing a bright green soccer uniform.

By the time your nightstand had been righted and you looked back towards your neighbors’ house, she’d made her way to the bushes between your driveways, standing on her tiptoes and taking in all of the commotion. She met your eye and grinned. You grinned back as she called, “Hi, new neighbor!” 

You walked over, stopping on the other side of the bush to introduce yourself. “Hi there, neighbor.” 

It didn’t seem possible, but she grinned even wider. “I’m Sarah, that’s my dad.”

You looked up, realizing there was a man coming down their steps towards the two of you — the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the look of a man who spent a lot of time in the sun, tan lines peeking out of his shirt sleeves. His brown curls were a bit messy and his shoulders and strong arms drew your eye like a magnet. You caught yourself giving him a quick once over and felt your face start to warm, embarrassed, but when you met his eyes again you caught him doing the same to you. You realized you were both caught and you smiled, introducing yourself. 

“Nice to meet you, darlin’. Joel Miller, and I think you’ve met Sarah.” You felt your face turn hot at the endearment but you knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it. Southern hospitality and all. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You’d opened your mouth to respond when you were rudely interrupted by a crashing noise from the moving truck behind you, and you whirled around to see a box on its side on the ground that definitely should not have been. You glanced back at your neighbors as you excused yourself. “It’s great to meet you! Sorry, I need to see what that was.”

They shooed you along before you could even finish your sentence, reassuring you that they understood. “Let me know if anything broke, darlin,’ I’m pretty handy, could probably fix it. It’d be my pleasure.” He smiled at you a bit, just on one side, edging towards a smirk, and you did your best not to stare at his mouth. “Deal,” you agreed, grinning. Both you and Joel seemed unable to draw your eyes away from each other. You were stuck, pinned in place under his gaze until Sarah tugged on his arm and dragged him towards their truck. “Dad, we’re gonna be late!”

The view from the back was just as nice as the front. 

...

a/n: ch 2 is up!

taglist: @morgaussy

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #x reader

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

hi angel! I looooooove how you write andrei so I would love to hear your take on what he’d be like on a mini golf date 🥹

I know he doesn’t really care much for actual golfing but I think it’d be fun watching this giant russian man play some putt putt lmaooo

omg thank youuu 🥹 i’m obsessed with and LOVE your tags on my fics 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy this!

okay, drei and mini golf - here we go. popping this one under a read more for a few nsfw lines and the unintenitonal double entendres that happen when talking about golf😅

i love that he thinks golf is stupid because i also think golf is stupid

you convince him to try mini golf because there are some fun little courses near you and you always remember having a good time playing with your friends growing up

it immediately starts wrong because the longest putter is still too short for him and he has to hunch over awkwardly to shoot (“i’m going to throw out my back like this” “and yet you have no problem bending me over and throwing out my back…”)

he picks a red golf ball of course and you go with neon pink

to spice up the game, you make a bet - one hole in one on the course equals a sexual favor. he gets a hole in one on the first, easiest hole and smirks, holding up his index finger, “one blow job.”

you get a hole in one on the third hole and smirk back at him, holding up your index finger, “one face sitting, tongue-induced orgasm.”

he’s surprisingly not that bad at the early holes, when they’re easy, and gets cocky, obnoxiously counting how many strokes it takes for you to get the ball in the hole (“that’s five. you know, i think the toddler in front of us is doing better than you” “still better than the six or seven strokes it takes to get you off”)

he teases you, coming around your back to put his hands over yours and “help” your swing. but really it’s just an excuse to press his groin against your ass, the hard ridge of his erection evident behind the fly of his jeans

you wiggle your ass against his front deliberately, playacting innocence when he murmurs a harsh “cock tease,” in your ear and nips at the side of your neck (the groan he lets out when you grind harder against him draws a few dirty looks from the parents around you)

then you start getting to the more challenging holes (the windmills and the waterfalls and the random hills and dips and a godforsaken clown head that’s going to give you nightmares) and it all goes downhill

andrei shoots the ball right into the little pool at the base of the waterfall and, per the rules, either has to fish it out or forfeit his chance at a free round at the end, so, competitive and stubborn as hell, he drops to his stomach on the green next to the pool and sticks his arm into the murky water, swishing around with a disgusted look on his face “this is disgusting. i don’t know why you’re laughing, you’ll get whatever disease i’m picking up from this water when i finger fuck you later.”

you crack up laughing the whole time, taking video of the indignity. it’s hilarious until your next shot ricochets off of one of the windmill blades and glances across your cheekbone. “fuck ow shit this stupid thing is going to break my face!”

andrei immediately checks to see if you’re okay and when he’s satisfied that you’re only going to have a little bruise, starts laughing at you. his shirtsleeve is still dripping wet and his face is red from laughing so hard. “we’re so bad at this, solnyshka.” “this is more fun when you’re just a kid. can we leave and go do something else?”

so you skip the last seven holes and go to a nearby laser tag place which is much more fun. especially when andrei pulls you into a dark corner and makes out with you like you’re teenagers

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov headcanons #andrei svechnikov x reader #smileysvech #asked and answered

[phantomspiderr]

By Any Means ║ Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x *f!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Summary: twenty years after your life completely went up in smoke. You've settled somewhere safe after years of risking your life but it looks like all of that is about to be turned upside down too when an old contact appears out of nowhere.

Warnings/Tags: tlou hbo spoilers, creepy drunk man, mentions of alcohol & drinking, trauma, canon level violence, cursing, mentions of death

a/n: sorry no joel in this chapter but I promise he'll be back next chapter! As always I hope you enjoy, I appreciate you. Anyway, the last chapter flopped so hard and kinda expect this one to as well but we move and I’m committed to posting it anyway. sorry it’s a bit shit.

Also, I forgot to shoutout my bestie in the last chapter, @natashasvixen you're the best! Couldn’t do anything without you, thank you for all your support🤍

*no real description of reader or gender as far as I know but I've written it with a female reader in mind

series masterlist | phantomspiderr masterlist

“Well hello there darlin’,” your body involuntarily cringes upon hearing the nickname. Your reaching hand freezes around a glass and for a moment you think about the past, pre-outbreak, before quickly shaking your head at that thought.

“We’re closed.” You speak flatly, hoping the drunk will just turn around and leave. You don’t even turn to look in his direction. It’d been a long day, and you just wanted to clean up and go home.

“‘M not looking for a drink darlin’,” this time the nickname makes you angry. Sometimes you wonder why you ever decided to work in the only bar in this godforsaken town was a good idea.

“We’re still closed.” You continue clearing the table in front of you, then there’s a hand on your waist and you freeze again.

“I said I’m not looking for a drink,” he stinks, he smells of stale dirt and strongly of alcohol. His grip is harsh, and he has the audacity to push his body up against you. In a second, you grab onto his wrist, twisting until his arm is folded behind him, and he’s pinned against another table. A few glasses fly to the floor, smashing upon contact, and the already unsteady table wobbles.

“And I said we’re closed. Now, piss off.” You shove the man, and he fumbles to stay on his feet.

“Fucking bitch,” he spits on the floor at your feet, mumbling more drunk profanities as he exits the bar. When the heavy door closes, you finally let out a shuddering breath, your body now trembling just a little. You close your eyes and draw in a deep breath, attempting to calm your racing heart. Even after years of having to take care of yourself, you still find it hard to shake off the fear the courses through you during every confrontation.

You’d thought moving into this smaller town would be better than the QZ, that maybe people would be nicer, and that it’d maybe feel a bit more normal, but it wasn’t. No amount of ‘normal’ looking ration stores or homes made it feel like it used to. People were all too busy surviving that it wasn’t until they were a few drinks in that maybe they’d be nicer. There were a few exceptions, of course. You’d made a few distant friends along the way, but moving from place to place for years in an apocalypse wasn’t exactly the ideal situation to make close friends.

You were pretty much on your own now, having separated from the only two people you knew after one too many innocent lives had been taken. You’d never agreed with the Hunter's way of life, but you had loved Joel enough to follow him anywhere. But he had become cruel and cold towards everyone, especially to you. You had of course always understood why, everyone had become some sort of shell of who they once were, but eventually it had taken a toll.

It was after one exceptionally harsh fight, where in a drunken state Joel had proclaimed you were a burden that just hung around, that you simply left. It was the final straw. You’d learnt enough to defend yourself in the few years following Joel and Tommy on their suicide missions. So, you packed up what little things you had and just disappeared at the first sign of light. It was hard being alone after so many years, realising you know no one or anything about where you were. Then after days of travelling, you’d managed to sneak yourself into a quarantine zone and there you worked to keep yourself safe for a few years. Eventually, that life had bored you enough that you left with a small group of people, heading for a rumoured town free of FEDRA’s command. It wasn’t all the rumours had made it out to be, but it was the place you called home for now. You had a little house that you shared with a few people, there was some livestock and best of all it was safe, for the most part. It would do for now, even though you longed for something better. Somewhere with nicer people, one of those bigger communities you’d heard about, a place where everything almost felt normal.

Your fingers rub at your temples, attempting to fight off an impending headache before going back to your cleaning up with a huff. The days felt like they were testing you, for reasons you don’t know, but you were tired.

“Oh fuck off will you!” The words tumble out of your mouth upon hearing the front door creak open again. Assuming it to be the drunk guy from before or just another drunk wanting his ass kicked.

“Well it’s good to see you again too,” the familiar voice immediately has your head whipping around.

“Marlene?!”

~

“Well, what the fuck do you want?” Forcefully, you place a glass down in front of Marlene, the contents spilling a little onto the table you’d just cleaned. You sit across from her, arms folded over your chest and an unfriendly look on your face.

“You’re not in the best of moods, maybe I should travel across the states looking for you at a better time?” Her sarcasm is not helping your mood, and your face tells her that much. Marlene sighs deeply before taking a sip of the drink, wincing at its strength, and then continuing. “I need your help.”

You loudly scoff, on the brink of getting up from the table and just leaving there and then. Let’s just say your last interaction with Marlene was not a polite one; you’re sure you can remember her calling you a deserter and a bitch all in the same breath.

“It’s important.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

She sighs out your name before rubbing a hand over her face.

“I need you. You’re the only one I know that can do this-”

“No! No, Marlene. You fucked me over once to save your precious Fireflies, and I don’t doubt you’d do it again!” You’re both trying to be louder than the other, talking over each other like it’ll stop you from hearing what the other has to say.

“There’s a cure.” She says it too simply for it to be true.

“Bullshit!”

“Ok, there will be.” This time you’re quiet, wanting to hear what story she’s concocted to make you fall back into her business. Your silence is enough of a go ahead for her to keep going. “There’s a girl. She’s immune, and I have doctors across the country that say she is the cure for all of this.”

“So, that’s what you want? A glorified babysitter for some kid?”

“No. Something went wrong-”

“There it is.” You slam your hands onto the table, moving to your feet. You're done with the conversation, bad things tend to follow Marlene and you just don’t want to be involved this time.

“Will you just fucking sit down and listen!” You both stare at each other for far too long of a moment until you concede, sitting back in your chair. Marlene downs the remainder of her drink before she starts talking again.

“I had… some people agree to take her to a drop off point. Things went south with that crew, last I heard one of them was infected, and then nothing. I need a group to go, track them down. Make sure the girl’s still living. Take her where she needs to be.” You’re shaking your head, not believing for a second you’re actually considering this suicide mission. “I’ve already organised a group and a rendezvous point that we’ve encoded over the radio in case Jo- in case they hear it, so they know where to go.”

“And why the fuck do you need me? If I remember right, you called me a traitor for wanting something more to life than fucking Firefly chaos.”

“You’re one of the best we’ve got.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “Okay, had. Look, can you just set aside whatever shit happened between us and realise what this girl means.”

She’s really selling this in a way only Marlene can. Ultimately, you could just say no, and go back to cleaning alcohol-stained tables and piles of puke off the floor. Or… you could go, maybe be part of history, or at the very least die trying. Goddamn Fireflies and their hope.

“Fine.” Marlene’s visibly shocked by your response. “But,” her face drops again, knowing she should have expected a but, “after that, I’m done. I don’t want to hear from you again. Ever.” 

There’s just silence as you stare at one another, and then Marlene smiles before extending her hand toward you. You look at it for a moment before sighing and against your better judgment making the deal and shaking her hand.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller fanfiction #tlou series #the last of us #the last of us series #the last of us hbo #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #hbo tlou #hbo the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller series #the last of us spoilers #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n

[sepublic]

         I can’t believe it’s actually ending.

         Three years the show has been airing. But it’s technically been a part of my life for five. I remember when The Owl House was first announced back in February 2018, and something about that magical poster and synopsis caught my eye. Something told me to look forward to this one, that it’d be special… And I had no idea.

         I remember checking Dana’s accounts studiously, impatient for more TOH content ever since that poster. Eventually I stopped, giving up… But then finally, that original teaser trailer, fully instrumental as it gave us clips from what we’d later discover were just the first four episodes! I remember my speculation about Luz going to this world, even had a dream where she was revealed to be the Anti-Christ (not that this was a bad thing in context), that sort of thing. I got hyped to hear Luz’s VA be announced, and went out of my way to find clips of Sarah Nicole-Robles’ voice acting just so I could get an idea of what was to come.

         And the show started off so humbly, so regularly, I didn’t think it’d become so serious! The fact that each episode was a fully twenty-two minutes did bode well for me, but damn. Hearing characters’ voices for the first time. Fully immersing myself.

         And this is it! All speculation will come to a close here, with the final episode. This is the last time we’ll get to watch a new episode, unless that young Raeda spin-off happens, but I’m not getting my hopes up because it’s Disney. These evening hours spent in anxious anticipation for the episode to drop, this is the last time it’ll happen for all of us. The last time I’ll obsessively check Discord to talk about the newest episode, scroll through the Recent tag to see fresh reactions.

         I want to savor it, but there’s also pressure to do this perfectly, as a way to go off. I can’t help perfectly capture how I feel nor a proper retrospective. But in the end, I still want to do it. A part of me doesn’t want it to end, wants it go on forever in infinite hiatus. But another part of me just wants to get the pain and grief over with. My heart is beating hard and it’s been building up in pace since I woke up today.

         I don’t know what to expect, but I gotta say I’ve loved watching it with you guys. Stuff as early as over-analyzing on the snake motifs which eventually DID pay off in String Bean, after that theory that Luz’s palisman would be a snake due to how the title card was designed! The way I compared the Boiling Isles to Mata Nui from Bionicle, even joked about King being the Titan. I remember being there in the early days when there was barely a fandom but still holding out, and boy have we grown since then!

         I was asked for permission to use my posts as credit when speculating on King being THE Titan, though it turns out he was his son. I remember speculating on the Owl mural inside of the Owl House, I’ve made so many friends through TOH. I remember when Adventures in the Elements leaked early and it was a dream episode, ideal and perfect!

         Speculating that there was more to Amity than meets the eye, and being right in the overanalysis! The vindication! Joking about her being a lesbian, seeing a Grom poster but not actually thinking we’d get a Grom episode. And then we did. Thinking we were getting our hopes up with Amity being a lesbian with a crush on Luz, and then the explosion of emotion as our hearts beat, when the note unfurled.

         I remember playing that godforsaken Witch’s Apprentice app just for more content, and then seeing Rebecca Rose analyze the artifacts, with me realizing they provided hints to upcoming episodes! Man, seeing Rebecca go from an early fan who helped start it off, someone I was glad to see provide presence at the beginning, all the way to a full-on crew member! Wonderful.

         Belos was known as Bellows due to a typo in the captions. Speculating on Lilith and Kikimora, who cursed Eda. Being blindsided by the climax of Season 1, and this mysterious Owl-masked figure besides Belos, because I had no clue who this was and who he’d turn out to be, no idea! No idea he and Willow would be a thing, that Belos had a brother he killed and repeatedly cloned in an attempt to get him back!

         This show has broken my heart, revived me, brought life, and so forth. Season 1 was truly wild, and then the year-long hiatus for Season 2, the Reddit AMA and stream… Getting Alador and Odalia’s names early, it was lovely! The S2 intro sneak peek, in progress. Waking up to get an entire trailer! Being caught off-guard with how much the animation improved, even as I had to stay quiet for like two weeks, because the first two episodes of S2 premiered early for special guests!

         Speculation on Philip Wittebane and Belos, the brothers. Seeing Luz figure out glyph combos. Hunter and Flapjack, King and Eda’s stories, as the designs updated. New palismen. The heartbreak of the show being shortened, the anger and rage. The vindication on Creepy Luz just being a scared kid who wants love and means well.

         And then the next hiatus… Season 2B, the end of a proper season as everything came to another climax. We got the truth on Belos, the story coming to a close in anticipation of the Day of Unity. The Season 3 leaks, especially with the titles, and the way they came together to tell us, Thanks For Watching. Like it wasn’t ideal but the audience worked with it, the crew made it work, and the fans stuck through regardless. The crew put themselves out there in this work and we reciprocated and understood.

         Just as Luz wanted and needed so badly. We had S3 and the first look at a special, depressed Luz. The sneak peek. The revelation on just how alike Luz and Camila are. And then the hype towards For the Future… When the Collector really got to shine and show us a new side that completed their character. And finally, after all of the anticipation…

         The episode finished production. The finale is done, just for us to watch. The crew is celebrating, saying their final goodbyes. And my heart and gut are feeling sick, aching with grief. I don’t want it to end, but it’s making me so nervous I need it to, just for the relief and release. And the finale inches ever-closer, the SERIES finale. The end of the end.

         Here’s to The Owl House, you guys. Thanks for everything, thanks for reading my posts, interacting with them, adding onto them; Responding when I responded to your posts! It truly was a magical time and still is for me. I feel like I genuinely learned and discovered a lot about myself through this show and my interactions with fellow fans, and I toast to our final get-together in watching an episode!

        Here’s to Watching and Dreaming! I know that’s what I’ll keep doing once the show ends…! And thank you @danaterrace, for coming up with this wonderful show and continuing to give it to us, despite everything.

#the owl house #ramblings

[rageagainstmymachine]

Kinktober 2023 | Edward Richtofen/ F! Reader | Fic 5

Roleplay

Words: 2,673

Tags: Soldier Edward, Nurse reader, hand jobs

1917, Germany.

The light was blinding as it filtered through the window, the room smelled of stale air and sterile equipment. The war was hell on the soul, as well as on the body. 

Edward Richtofen groaned out, trying to shift his bandaged body, his leg was splinted, head compressed and abdomen wrapped, a tinge of pink slightly soaking through. He didn’t have a clue of how long he had been here, nor how he got here, but the bandages gave away the possible reason. 

He was still in his uniform, donning the drab but effective field grey wool. It was a damn scratchy fabric, even more so now since it was all he could focus on in this basically bare room. At least his boots and helmet were taken off, he could appreciate that.

Edward’s ears perked up as he heard footsteps right outside the door, a nurse, no doubt, the clicks of heels on hardwood floors were distinct. Just as he hoped, the door creaked open, revealing a neatly dressed nurse. She donned wide eyes as she made eye contact with him.

“Gott im Himmel! You’re awake!” You gasped, softly shutting the door before taking quick steps to his bedside. You wore the best subtle German accent you could, trying to be authentic. “You gave all the nurses here quite the scare, Soldat.” 

Richtofen laughed weakly, reaching out to you with his shaky hand. You took it quickly, sitting down on the edge, rubbing his calloused hands with your delicate fingers. “How long have I been out?” He asked.

“A few days, ten to be exact.” 

His eyes went wide from your admission. “Zehn? That’s not exactly a few, is it?” A smile twitched on his lips. At least through it all he still had high spirits.

You chuckle lightly yourself, shaking your head. “Nein, I suppose not… you had some nasty shrapnel from battle, passed out from blood loss.” His eyes trailed from yours to his bandaged stomach quiet as he thought about your words. You felt empathy for him. You squeezed his hand in a soothing manner. “Don’t worry, nothing too serious, the worst was your fractured leg which is healing just fine.” 

He gave you a weak but appreciative smile. A sigh escaped from his lips as he looked at the curtained window. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad I got injured?” He inquired.

“I don’t think so, you’ve been a brav Soldat… you deserve a break.” You answered.

His eyes came back to you, a sheepish look cascading his features. “I was talking more about getting such a schön nurse, Fraulein.”

Your face erupted in red, a small smile finding your lips as you looked away. It wasn’t the first time a patient has hit on you, you should’ve gotten used to it by now, and for the most part you were. But having such a handsome soldier say such things made your heart flutter.

“Flattery won’t persuade me to up your meds, Herr Richtofen” you joked, trying to shrug off the compliment.

He gave you a lopsided grin from your words. “So you’re flattered, miss…?” He trailed off, unsure of your own name. You told him, and he tasted it on his tongue, you couldn’t deny it sounded good on his lips. “I should be the one flattered, you know my name.” His smile still played on his face.

“I read your dog tags to create your chart, Herr Richtofen.” You said bluntly, hardly entertaining his games.

“As much as my last name sounds wunderbar on your lips, I’d much prefer if you’d call me Edward.” 

You bit your lip, rolling your eyes as you considered his request. “Okay, Edward.” You confirmed, “aber only because you’ve been through hell.”

“Nein, Schatz. War ist war, und Hell ist Hell. War is far worse.” He sighed, eyes glazing over as his memory dragged him back to those godforsaken trenches. 

You frowned, recognizing that look, you’ve seen it on too many young men’s faces. You let go of his hand to stand, walking over to the other side of the room where a small table stood. On the table was a pitcher of water and a single glass. You poured a generous amount, and brought it back to the hospital bed.

“Here, I can imagine you have cotton mouth, drink, bitte…” you told him more than asked, bringing the glass to his lips. He strained to lift his head, greedily chugging down the water. 

When he pulled away, he gave a few small gasps for air, breathing heavily as he smiled. “Dankeschön, Liebling,” he cooed, resting his head back against the pillow. 

Edward tried to shift in bed, it was a failed effort only resulting in a pained moan escaping his lips. You sat the glass down quickly and grabbed his hand again to soothe. 

“Gott…. Mein thigh, it feel so stiff und achy.” He complained, looking down to the injured leg.

You clicked your tongue in displeasure. “Ja, I can imagine. Being immobile with a splint for almost two weeks doesn’t feel too gut on the muscles.” You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought. An idea soon popped in your mind. “I’ll massage the muscle, ja? Perhaps it can bring you some comfort.”

Richtofen nodded eagerly, doing the best he could to scoot over for you to have room to sit. You sat down right at his knee line, careful not to hit the splint. Your hands gingerly found his thigh, kneading and digging into the skin with your thumbs.

“Ah, gently, schatz…” he groaned, feeling the soreness.

His muscles had serious knots in them, it felt like marbles under the skin. Poor man, it couldn’t have felt any type of good walking with them. Even when he asked for a more gentle touch, you didn’t give it to him, knowing firm hands were the only way to get them out. His moans of pain soon turned into sighs of relief, you visibly saw him relax.

“Are you feeling any better Herr Richtofen -, ah… Edward?” You corrected yourself, still working the muscles.

“Ja,” Edward breathed, eyes closed. “Aber… I still feel some tension, just a little higher.” 

You trailed your hands higher, about mid thigh, and dug into the muscle. His groans of enjoyment filled the room, his head rolling to the side to watch your deft fingers work their magic. Wanting to get all of the knots out, you reached higher to his upper thigh, mere inches from his groin. 

His breathing got heavier the more you worked the muscles, he didn’t dare utter a word, he just watched, eyes wide almost in anticipation. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t notice anything until he let out a low moan. 

“Herr Richtofen? Are you ok-? Oh .”

Edward’s bulge was evident even concealed by the sweep of his tunic. It was hard against his thigh - the thigh you were massaging. Your eyes grew wide, hands reeling away as you stood up.

“Es tut mir leid…” you trailed off, your face red from embarrassment.

“I haven’t experienced a woman's soft touch for too long, surely you don’t blame my reaction,” he smiled, eyes lidded from desire. “Especially the touch of such a gorgeous fraulein.” 

His breathing was still labored, his erection strained against the fabric. He looked at you with pleading eyes, eyes that begged for you to touch him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach from nerves and a twinge of arousal. You took a deep breath, sitting back down.

“How long?” You ask, voice low.

He bit his lip, eyes lighting up that you didn’t immediately turn him down. “I’ve spent two awful years in those trenches, if that paints a picture.” His need was obvious. A handsome man in need of a woman… “Would you take care of me, Frauchen?” He asked, almost in a whisper. 

You felt that familiar arousal between your legs. Your eyes trailed down his chest to his bulge as you wrestled with the idea. Your resolve crumbled as you placed your hand on his thigh. 

“Anything for the morale of the German army.” You teased.

Your hands moved to the button of his trousers, you were careful not to graze his erection, you enjoyed how he held his breath in anticipation for it. The button popped open with ease, his boxers were the only thing keeping you from the prize. You lightly caress down his happy trail, to the waistband of the garment. 

“Mh, bitte, don’t tease,” Edward pleaded. His breath caught in his throat when you slipped two fingers under the band, just barely grazing the base. 

“Sorry, Soldat, I can’t help it.” You wink at him. You grab his shaft tightly, pulling it out of his boxers. It stood proudly, tip red and needy with small twitches here and there. You bit your lip at the size, eyes growing wide. “Mein Gott… you’re… so big…” you say with a shuttered breath. It twitched again from your words.

“Vielen Dank,” Edward’s eyes were lidded, lips pulled up in a smile from the stroke of his ego. The way you continued to stare at it only made him more and more turned on. “ You make me feel like I’ve already won this war.”

You gave his shaft a slow pump, testing the waters. He bucked up in your hand, a low groan escaping his lips, as well as pleas for more. You became more confident, stroking him at a faster pace.

“Verdammt, you have magical fingers…” Richtofen groaned, squirming from the pleasure. He began to leak precum so you trailed your hand up, rubbing the tip with your thumb in quick, tight circles. A string of curses fell from his pretty lips. 

“How does that feel?” You purred, giving quick shallow strokes while still thumbing the head.

“Like Heaven.” Was all he could muster. 

You gripped the base of his shaft with your other hand, working every inch with determination, even throwing in a few twists of your wrist to make him squirm. He was a panting mass, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he thrusted into your hands. 

“Ja… ja, I’ve needed this, Gott, I’ve needed this.” He said like a prayer. The tip of his throbbing cock was now a darker red, precum leaked freely as you focused on the twitching shaft with one hand and the needy head with the other, jerking it fast.

“How much are you going to cum for me, Herr Richtofen?” You asked while keeping up your ministrations.

“So much… so, so much. I’m going to explode und get mein cum all over those filthy little hands of yours.” Edward hissed out his answer. 

“Mh, is that so? I don’t want to be disappointed…” You reveled in the fact he was putty in your hands. You could tease him all day long and you knew he would love it.

“Jawohl, Frauchen. Mein balls are so heavy und full… und it’s all for you. Milk me, bitte. Milk me for all that I have.” Richtofen pleaded almost completely out of breath. “Schnell, schneller!”

You held his cock tightly with both hands, pumping up and down as quick as you could. His moans got higher and whinier as he got closer to his release, his dick twitched like crazy and his balls tightened as he took a deep breath in, grunting primally as thick spurts of cum shot from his cock. 

He bucked into your hand while you still continued to work him. His moans tumbled out unabashedly as he came all over your hands as promised. The cum was an excellent lube for your fingers to keep working him, milking him just as he asked. You continued to run quick circles on the underside of his tip until his hips started spasming, cries of overstimulation racking his chest. You slowed down, pumping the base slowly for a few more moments before slowing down to stop that as well.

Edward laid there, each muscle twitching on their own accord. His cock laid on his thigh, still pulsing while it softened. He wore a drunk grin on his face, certainly still coming down from cloud nine. You wiped off your hands with a handkerchief while gazing at him. 

“I hope that was well enough, Soldat.” You said, bringing a hand to caress his chest, watching as loving eyes stared at you. His hand found your cheek to cradle it tenderly. 

“I told you to call me Edward.” He teased, hands dropping to hold your own.

“Nein, I shouldn’t… what if I am to get attached?” You inquire. “You will soon return to war und forget me.” 

“I could never forget my most doting Nurse.” Edward said, squeezing your hand just as you did his when he first woke up. “Bitte, call me Edward. If you call me Edward I promise to find you und marry you once the war is done.” 

Your eyebrows shot up in surprising. Why, he hardly knew you. He barely met you today and he was already talking about marriage. You knew army men moved fast but you didn’t realize just how fast. “Und what if I do call you E- your first name… und you die in this war?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “With a fraulein like you waiting for me? There’s no way im Teufel I’m letting those damn Tommies ruin this for me.” 

You laughed, looking away with a blush on your cheeks. You hardly knew this man, but something inside you said to take the opportunity and run, that good looks and a great cock weren't the only things he had going for himself. You looked back into his hopeful eyes and smiled, nodding your head.

“Okay, Edward. I accept. But after the war if you don’t come back to me, I will hunt you down.” You threatened, glaring into his eyes before a smile cracked through.

“Und I wouldn’t have it any other way. Kiss mich.” He whispered. You complied happily, melting into his shaky yet gentle touch. 

He scooted over more to let you lay down with him, wanting to hold you close for as long as he could before having to return to war in the coming weeks. It was an unconventional love blossoming, but you were never conventional.

~

~

~

“Ach, meine Liebe, could you take this splint off? Mein knee is starting to hurt from over-extension.” Edward groaned, sitting up. He smiled at you as he began taking off his bandages while you worked on the splint. “What did you use for the blood? Looks quite realistic.”  He inspected the red bandages as he removed them.

You began unbuckling the many leather belts of the splint, he audibly sighed once he was able to bend his knee. “White corn syrup, red food colouring, and a tad bit of water.” You grinned, proud of the blood. He ran his finger in the fake blood that was still spread on his stomach, plopping it in his mouth.

“Lecker, although I think the real stuff tastes better.” 

You laugh at him shaking your head. You finally got the splint fully off and so began working on getting your uniform off, Edward followed suit.

“Thank you for doing this for me, Eddie.” You say in a small voice.

“What kind of husband would I be if I were to deny you of your sinful pleasures?” He murmured against your ear. “Besides, I’ve always looked damn gut in a German uniform, only wore them a handful of times while in France.”

“You definitely should wear it more often.” You tell him, closing the gap between you once more.

“If you keep doing that sexy faux German accent, I just might.” 

“Jawohl, Herr Richtofen.” You purr.

Edward pounced on you, your back now against the bed with his chest pressing against yours, his sexual appetite still unsatisfied. You had a long night ahead of you, a long night in the arms of your German soldier. 

~

This fic on Ao3

All fics (Ao3)

I'd appreciate it if you left kudos!

#cod zombies #call of duty zombies #call of duty #edward richtofen #reader insert #female reader #x reader #fanfic #smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[sunnynwanda]

Last Line Tag!

Thank you @crow-with-a-typewriter for this tag! I decided to do a piece from my main WIP, which everyone got a glimpse of in the Legends of Vishaps snippets (The Escape and The Beginning (those happen before the events of my WIP). I tried to cut the scene but it's somewhat long, so bear with me :)

“Get out of here, both of you.” George's face is expressionless when he speaks, but the wobble in his voice reveals his state. “Now!”

Sar meets his gaze for a short moment before grabbing Amber’s forearm and pulling her after him. He doesn’t stop until they reach Mrs Fora’s house and doesn’t loosen his grip on her wrist until they are inside. Amber expects him to lead her through the tunnel to the keep, but he does not. Instead, he lets go of her arm and sits by the fireplace, covering his face with both hands. She feels guilt tugging at her heart when she watches him. He did not deserve this. Out of everyone in this godforsaken place, Sar was the last person she would want to hurt. She crosses the room, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Sar,” Amber musters, unsure if a proper hug will be welcomed. She sits by his side, hugging his shoulders with one arm. He shakes his head with a bitter smile, and she repeats. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without a warning.” 

“You don’t feel safe in the castle with us,” he states. It’s not a question but Amber wants to argue regardless. She wants to assure him that if there is one person that she feels safe with, it’s him. Sar shushes her with a short gesture. 

“I don’t blame you. There is a lot you don’t know.” He claims, his eyes finally meeting hers. He longs to tell her everything. It’s obvious letting her remember on her own wasn’t working as anticipated. There was no easy way around this, and they could only nivellate it so much. Perhaps ripping the scab off the wound and letting the pus out would be better.

“If you wish to stay in town, you can stay here.” Amber is stunned into silence, which makes Sar chuckle. “It’s not much, but it should work better than the inn.”

She takes a moment to consider the offer and nods in agreement. 

“Told you, I’m the smartest.” Sar grins at her, despite knowing this is a temporary solution. He’s not sure how much time they have left. George has been overwrought since yesterday evening. The squad they had sent out was delayed; his conversation with Amber went miserably sour, and then, when he went to check on her, he discovered she was gone. They had spent the night searching for her, starting from every nook in the castle and extending further into the city as dawn neared.

The door swings open and slams shut behind George’s back. Sar gets up, giving her shoulder a squeeze, and mouths a ‘Good luck’ before disappearing into the tunnel. Luck is something she is sure to require, Amber thinks as she turns around to face George, but the young man doesn’t spare her a glance. His eyes glimmer with anger when she opens her mouth. 

“Don’t even dare,” George snarls, pacing the room like a trapped animal. His nostrils are flaring as he tries to breathe deeply, but the lump in his throat doesn’t allow it. He runs his hands through his hair to concentrate on the pending issue. The rest can wait. Or so he hopes. “How can you do this to them?”

Amber ignores his question, facing away from him as she stares at the tapestry on the wall. George can feel he is close to completely losing it. His pulse is throbbing in his ears, obscuring any external sounds from reaching his brain. He restrains himself from hurling a pillow at her or, better yet, punching the nearest wall. His eyelids drop, shutting the world and her out of his mind. When he finally speaks, Amber jumps at the change in his voice. 

“If you want to hate me - fine, do as you please.” George did not intend to sound so broken – he hates that weakness with the entirety of his being. But he felt the change this morning. The air was too thin, the sky was a strange shade of grey, and water vibrated differently around his hands when he submerged them in the fountain. The familiarity of it set tight in the pit of his stomach. He knew what was coming. And he was not ready for that meeting. “I know you think you are alone in this world, but you are not. You have no idea what being truly alone feels like. They have always been by your side, no matter what. They are not your enemy, I can swear on that. If you are desperate to find an enemy, take me. Hate me, yell at me, curse me, hit me if you have to. But don’t be rude to people who did so much to protect you.”

Amber lets out a dark laugh, turning on her heels and casting a glance over him. George thinks he must look pathetic to her. “Protect me? Is that what you call that?” His lips part in question when she interrupts it. “Sar has offered me to live here. I accepted.” 

“What- you can’t,” As much as George wanted it to sound like an order, it was a plea. You can’t do that. Not to them. Not to me. You can’t leave. He knows it’s not the castle he is thinking about right now. He can almost hear the giant wings flapping, cutting through the air like sharp glass. His tongue stings with the familiar taste of salt, and his skin prickles at the memory of blood and oil mixing on his forehead. He can smell the dampness of the earth and the smoke from burning reeds that fill his lungs. He can feel the sensation of the cold metal touching his skin as chains are wrapped around his neck and wrists.

“Leave me alone,” Amber demands, meeting his gaze to let him know she is aware of her control over him. Go away. Now! His limbs obey the order against his will, pulling George up and turning him towards the tunnel when Sar rushes through the door with a wild look in his eyes. He reaches them in two long strides, hands trembling as he catches his breath.

“It’s back.” 

It’s all Sar manages to utter before multiple cries of horror fill the air. People start running around, hurrying to grab the kids and hide in their basements. The sky goes dark in a matter of seconds, but before she can react, a screeching sound floods Amber’s ears. She screams, covering them with her palms, but notices that Sar is unaffected. When she turns to George, his face is torn between dread and determination. He knew it was coming.

Yet he did not expect it to happen so soon. 

No pressure tag: @thiefofthecrowns

I'm not sure who to tag (who'd be willing to share, that is). If you have a WIP and want to share, let me know! I'd love to read :)

#writing #mythology #creative writing #original fiction #wip #my writing #tag game #writeblr #writers on tumblr #requests open #sunnynwanda

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

writing patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @zombiethingy 💜 thank you!

i called her on the phone and she touched herself (stranger things — ronance)

“It’s getting pretty late.” 

crystal clear (all time low — flykat)

“You’ve been really weird with me lately.” 

destined to explode (stranger things — harringrove)

“Look son, I told you already, I’m not paying that, I haven’t had the goddamn tape that long.” 

treasure finder (stranger things — harringrove)

Steve Harrington’s got beautiful feet. 

on the edge with no control (stranger things — steddie)

“I could cut your pretty little cock off right now.” 

gold-skinned eager baby (stranger things — harringrove)

Steve’s not so used to having his knees pinned to his chest, firm hands on the backs of his thighs to keep them there; to keep him spread. 

static screams (all time low/pvris — gunnskarth)

Every day is just static screams.

come bail me out of this godforsaken precipice (stranger things — steddie)

The quarry’s cold at dusk, Steve thinks.

dirty with harmony (all time low/grayscale — alex gaskarth/collin walsh)

Collin’s on his knees, bowed down with his head to the floor, legs spread wide apart behind him.

pothole (stranger things — steddie)

“That’s just perfect.” 

still an innocent (stranger things — no pairing, steve character study based around his mother)

He felt his mother’s absence more than he felt her love, even though it was not that she wasn’t there in body to hold him.

i skipped out on the two fics from the explicit email series because the format is really specific obviously. cos it's an email. but anyway. clearly i'm a fan of dialogue as an opener.

edit: honestly it's kind of hilarious two of these openers are just straight up ass-eatin'

tagging: @itcanbepalped @jackinalex @internet-sadass @amelancholysunshine aaaaaand i know i could tag more people but my memory is awful so if you see this and would like to do it please consider this as me tagging you <3

#this was fun and interesting!! #tag games

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne: Part Thirteen (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: The fall concert season is known to bring drama, but tensions rise as Y/N makes a decision on what to do about her relationship with Agatha and her future with the MSO

A/N: Hello Chaconne friends! Welcome to chapter 13 of Chaconne. I have decided to do something different with this update…in the past I stated I wasn’t comfortable writing smut for personal reasons. However, after some thought I am…tentatively adding in more mature content going forward. So consider this a warning! If that were to offend anyone it’s in the beginning so you can just skip. Anyways, after this we have one chapter left to go! Thank you all for joining me on this very fun journey, your comments and likes and support have brought me so much happiness, and I’m honored that anyone has even read this fic. As always, thank you for reading and please leave me a comment if you enjoyed the new things I’m adding in. My asks and DM’s are always open, xoxo

Tag List: @anxiousgoldengirl @celasteria @danvers97 @imthedoctorlove @mcfriggingonagall @meowsaidmissy @scarletmeltstheice @shinkomiii @sxfwap @thestrangeundoing @upsidedowndanvers @venticalooks @vintagegoddess12 @thoroughly--confused @genderenvyeveryone @thewelshelk @tr333sus

Y/N POV

From the moment she came storming in the concert hall you could tell that Agatha was in a mood. If you had to guess what set her off, you would assume it had something to do with the interns. You heard rumblings that they planned a ‘Dress Like Maestra Day’ which could presumably only end in disaster (you wisely chose to decline the invitation they sent you to participate). Usually, Agatha would share her frustrations with you, however today it seemed like she wasn’t in the mood for talking.

Taking her usual seat in the front row, Agatha crossed her legs and looked expectantly at you. “Have you fixed the last page of Vitali?”

You wanted to point out that you just had a lesson with the conductor yesterday and barely had the time to sleep after getting home, but quickly weighed your options. While you would never admit it, there were a few times in college where you would forget to practice before your lessons. Although this caused tremendous waves of anxiety as you prayed your professor wouldn’t notice, you quickly learned that you were pretty good at winging it when need be. Plus, Agatha appeared to be in a bad mood, and you knew telling her you didn’t practice would infuriate her even more. She would never know…hopefully.

Lifting up your violin, you recalled Agatha instructing you to relax your shoulders to make sure your right hand was loose enough to properly grip the bow. Breathe. You could do this. Setting your bow on the string you closed your eyes, picturing the sound you wanted to create. The last page was a flurry of double stops beginning in triplets and ending in sixteenth notes. So, you had to use the same amount of bow, while also focusing on the position of your left hand to ensure you were playing the correct notes. You also had to adhere to the accelerando, which was just a fancy way of saying you had to gradually get faster throughout the passage.

Yesterday, Agatha tore you to shreds over your intonation. She claimed if she wanted to listen to someone butcher the same notes over and over again she would have invited Dottie to come on stage and play whatever godforsaken solo she was working on (Agatha’s words, not yours). But this was an easy fix, you were sure of it.

Unfortunately, you were overconfident. Although you had always prided yourself on your ability to memorize music over short periods of time, there was the occasional instance where you ran flat. Literally. Like, right now, for instance. After barely playing 10 bars, you heard Agatha ordering you to stop.

Placing your violin under your arm, you looked out to see Agatha’s eyes scanning you. The conductor looked agitated, and you were starting to have a sinking feeling her annoyance wasn’t solely directed towards the interns anymore. “Darling.” Agatha drawled out, her voice low and sweet as she slowly stood up, making a point to take off her glasses. “You did practice this section, right?”

You needed to come clean, and tell Agatha that no, you hadn’t found the time to practice. But, on second thought, she looked pretty mad. You nodded, trying to appear calm. “Mhm, I practiced.”

The conductor arched an eyebrow, as if she was shocked to hear those words come out of your mouth. “You practiced?”

Nodding again, you hoped she would stay down there and far away from the stage. You would be relatively safe from her up here. But unfortunately it seemed you would be wrong yet again today as Agatha slowly walked onstage. It seemed the conductor enjoyed taking her time, and you felt a sense of dread as she approached you. There was a dark look in her eyes you couldn’t quite place, and you barely had time to register her being in your close proximity before she motioned for you to play.

“Once more if you don’t mind, dear.” Agatha instructed, leaning against the piano, her eyes never leaving you. “I want to see all this progress you made.”

Well that’s it, you were fucked. Unfortunately she noticed your hesitation, causing her to frown. “Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

Shuffling your feet awkwardly, you thought of the best way out of this situation: back pedal. “Well, you see-”

Agatha held up a hand to silence you, and you grimaced at how mad she appeared to be. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Y/N. I asked you three times if you practiced, and all three times you chose to lie.”

“Well, I actually didn’t say anything the first time.” You pointed out, causing Agatha to shake her head.

“Put your violin away.”

“But Agatha I-” You began to protest, but were cut off by Agatha closing the distance between you. Kissing you.

You had kissed Agatha before, but this was different. In the past the conductor made a point of being relatively gentle and slow. She never went too far, and always stopped before things could progress. But today was different. Today she kissed you with a hunger that made your knees buckle, almost causing you to drop your violin on the stage floor. Agatha gently grabbed your violin from you, and when she broke the kiss you could see how blown out her pupils had become. She quickly set your violin down in its case before turning her attention back to you.

“I’ve already had a stressful day dealing with the complete idiots that are this season’s interns, and now I have to deal with your disobedience?” Agatha questioned, her voice was dripping with arousal. She stalked up to you, and pressed you up against the piano. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Her body was firmly set against yours and she was so close to you, so unbearably close you could practically smell her, and all you could think about was getting on your knees to taste her. “I’m…sorry, Maestra.”

You watched eyes darken even more so if that was possible, before she kissed you again. Her tongue invaded your mouth with vigor and you were swept up in her dominance over you. Her hands slowly slid down your body, stopping to squeeze and touch every part of you before roughly grabbing your ass, and pulling you impossibly closer to her.

“I’ll show you how sorry you’ll be.” The conductor whispered against your lips, her voice raspy and low, as a hand came up to roughly grab your jaw, causing you to moan at the contact. “And this pretty little mouth needs to remember too.”

Shoving you away from her, she sat on the piano bench, moving it back to make more room. “Come here, and get on your knees.”

“Yes, Maestra.” You were so turned on you could barely think straight, the only thoughts in your brain consisted of Agatha finally taking you the way you had dreamed of night after night.

Kneeling down, you looked up at the conductor and pouted, causing her to coo down at you. “Oh honey, what’s the matter? Do you want something?”

Nodding, you continued to pout, as the words became turning into mush in your brain. Damn this woman for being so hot, she barely touched you and you were already a dripping mess.

Agatha appeared to be delighted at your inability to form coherent sentences, as she chuckled. “My poor baby. I know how hard it is to think when your cunt starts to drip for me, isn’t it?”

Fuck. You moaned again, picturing her long fingers inside you, hitting the spots you couldn’t quite reach. “Yes, Maestra.”

Agatha took in a deep breath at that, and let it out slowly, trying to maintain her composure. “Good girl. Now, I’m very upset with you for lying to me. Do you think you could make it up to me darling?”

You nodded, ever eager to please her.

“Mmm that’s what I thought.” Agatha unbuttoned her pants, before sliding them off and just leaving on her lacy black panties. She grabbed your ponytail and dragged you between her legs until your mouth was almost on her. It took everything in you to not stick out your tongue. “You’re going to let me ride that pretty face until I come.”

The beeping of your alarm roused you from your dream, and you let out a displeased groan.

It was a dream, of course it was a dream. It was always the same dream; Agatha punishing you during a lesson, and using you in various ways. At first you had been embarrassed, almost too embarrassed to know how you’d ever look her in the face again. But then that embarrassment turned into pure desire and longing. Agatha in reality often treated you like a delicate porcelain doll; it was as if she was afraid she would break you if she was too rough. While you loved how sweet she could be when you were alone, you didn’t know how to tell her that it was okay to let go. That you wanted her just as badly as she seemed to want you.

Unfortunately you had no time to try and go back to sleep because you were running late enough as it is. The Manhattan Symphony Orchestra’s fall gala and season opener was quickly approaching, which meant working even longer hours than usual. Under any other circumstance you would have been thrilled at the opportunity to spend more time with Agatha, but your mind was too focused on your current problem, well problems. In addition to your incredibly realistic sex dreams, you desperately needed to tell Agatha you had been offered a spot in Natasha’s group. You had managed to get more time to decide, as Natasha reached out to you saying she would be busy with a project for the next few weeks. But you knew time was running out, and you’d have to make a decision sooner rather than later.

However, when you arrived at work, your dilemmas were put on hold as you saw the chaos that was Agatha’s office. Music scores and sheet music were scattered across the floor, and you clocked two batons that were snapped in half. You would have assumed someone had broken in if the conductor wasn’t standing in front of her book case, holding a giant binder. Her hair was pulled back by a giant clip, and she was so focused on whatever it was she was reading that she didn’t notice you come in.

Attempting to avoid stepping on the various piles of papers on the floor, you cleared your throat. “Agatha? Is everything alright?”

The conductor hummed, but continued reading. “Yes, dear. Give me just a moment, hm?” She flipped through, mindlessly humming along to…Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Interesting. As you tried picking up the overwhelming amount of things on the floor, you heard her make a noise of disapproval, and without even looking up she said, “Leave it, I’ll clean it up later.”

You wanted to check to see if she somehow acquired a concussion this morning, but chose instead to begin compiling the rehearsal schedule for the week when you noticed something strange. Every Monday when you logged on, Agatha had an updated list of what she wanted to rehearse for the week. Only now it looked like she deleted the file. Or an intern did. For the sake of the remaining interns, you hoped it was the former.

“Agatha? Do you have this week’s rehearsal schedule on a different file? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Agatha had turned her attention back to her bookshelf, and she must still be searching for whatever it was she needed. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet darling.”

Feeling uncomfortable just sitting around with the mess surrounding you. “Well, is there something I can help with?”

“Mmm yes actually,” Agatha replied, grabbing two more binders before finally going to sit across from you at her desk. “I need you to go to the symphony’s music library and pull the orchestra parts for a few pieces.”

The conductor handed you a piece of paper, and you frowned at Agatha’s messy scribble. “Why do you need pieces by Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky?”

“Well I’ve decided to switch around the concert programming,” Agatha explained, as if that was a totally normal and not insane thing to do a month out from the debut. “I need to challenge the orchestra more, and I don’t feel that Dvorak is providing that. Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5 will be perfect.”

“Right, but what Tchaikovsky piece did you choose? Something in addition to the Rachmanioff?”

Agatha had turned her attention back to the binders on her desk as she replied. “Well, after selecting Shotakovich, I decided to make it a concert filled with only Russian composers. So we’re scrapping Rachmanioff and bringing in a violin soloist for Tchaikovsky.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at her comment, she was getting rid of Wanda? From what you gathered, it was Hayward’s decision to hire Wanda to begin with, and it seemed like her contract was near impossible to break. Then you wondered what soloist had the time and skills to be brought on this late into the concert season. Instead of asking any of those more difficult questions, you opened your mouth and asked the first thing that came to mind- “But isn’t Rachmaninoff a Russian composer?”

The conductor gave you a pointed look, but before she could continue there was a loud and insistent knock on the door. Agatha sighed, “If it’s one of those interns with the wrong coffee order, I’m not going to be happy. Come in.”

The door opened and Hayward came barging in, looking entirely displeased. You always felt rather uncomfortable in the CFO’s presence, and could never quite figure out why; whenever you interacted with him, he just always seemed so calculated and cold. It was far too unnerving and you were thankful Agatha was here with you.

Hayward stopped to catch his breath, as if he had run all the way from his office to the conductor’s, his face red. “I’m not allowing you to do this.”

“Well good morning to you too, Mr. Hayward,” Agatha drawled as you suddenly became quite interested in looking at the updated seating chart. “How can I be of service?”

He looked more annoyed than amused. “Cut the shit, Harkness. You can’t do it, I’m not going to stand by and allow you to blow hundreds of thousands of dollars due to your inability to make up your mind.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to,” Agatha replied, and you could practically taste the sarcasm dripping off her lips as she added. “Care to elaborate?”

It seemed Hayward wasn’t in the mood for Agatha’s witty banter, and you grew more uncomfortable by the minute. “You cannot change the entire fall concert repertoire this late in the season!”

Smirking, Agatha stood up and walked around her desk, holding open one of the binders she had grabbed earlier. “Actually, I can.” All but shoving the binder in Hayward’s hands, she pointed to a paragraph you couldn’t make out. “If you could do me the honors of reading that aloud, Mr. Hayward.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what’s in your contract, Agatha. I signed off on it.” Hayward slammed the binder shut. “But you need a majority board approval to make any changes to the concert repertoire, and I know for a fact you do not have it.”

Agatha let out a dramatic sigh, and you were frozen in your seat, pretending to not listen to every word. “I was hoping you would mention that. Y/N, could you please hand me my phone?”

Why, oh why, does she always insist on dragging you in the middle of these uncomfortable situations? Grabbing the phone, you swiftly handed it to the conductor while trying to avoid eye contact with Hayward.

This exchange was growing more and more uncomfortable and in desperation,you tried to think of an excuse, any excuse to get you out of this room. “Maestra, maybe I should go grab those parts for you?”

Agatha waved off your suggestion, keeping her gaze locked on Hayward. “That’s unnecessary, Y/N. We’re almost done here.”

“We are nowhere near being done,” Hayward argued, throwing you a glance as an afterthought before adding, “So perhaps your assistant should leave to get some work done. You do have her doing actual work, right?”

The jab was subtle enough that anyone else in the room would have failed to pick up on it, but it was obvious to you that he was insinuating something. If Agatha had noticed, she didn’t dare react. Instead, she completely ignored Hayward and began scrolling through her phone, intent on finding whatever it was she needed. In the interim, you went back to nervously studying the seating list, hoping that Hayward would decide to leave you alone.

Finally, the conductor seemed to find what she was looking for, as a satisfied smirk settled over her face. “Ah yes. If you wouldn’t mind checking your email, Mr. Hayward. You’ll find that ten board members signed off on my request to change the fall concert programming. With those votes and my two votes as being both Music Director and conductor of the MSO, I have enough to change the program to Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich.”

Hayward read the email and shut his phone’s screen off with so much aggression you thought he was going to crack it in half. “This isn’t over, Harkness.”

Hayward stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him, and you waited until you were sure he was gone before looking back at Agatha. “So, how did you convince the majority of the board to vote for your idea?”

Agatha gave you a mischievous smirk, as she began picking up the heap of papers scattered across the floor. “The way everyone does, darling. I’ve spent enough time with the board to know how to entice them to do what I want.”

Letting the conductor’s words sink in, you let out a slightly horrified gasp, staring at the woman in disbelief. “Please do not tell me you’re blackmailing the entire MSO Board.”

Shrugging, Agatha dropped a ream of papers on her desk and after they landed with a heavy thud she replied, “I’m not blackmailing the entire MSO Board.” She paused for dramatic effect before adding, “I’m only blackmailing half of the MSO Board.”

“Agatha!”

“It’s not my fault those buffoons don’t know how to hold their liquor,” Agatha argued, setting down another pile of papers, accidentally dropping some on your lap in the process. Before you could react, she leaned over to grab them, her hands lingering on your thighs a moment longer than necessary.

Up until that point you had forgotten entirely about your dream. But feeling Agatha’s fingers on you caused you to shift uncomfortably, as flashbacks from your dream began to play on a loop. The way she looked at you as if she was going to devour you. Having her drag you by your hair to settle between her legs; how close you were to tasting her.

“Y/N?” Agatha was staring at you with a curious expression on her face, and you blushed as you quickly tried to put the dream out of your mind once more. “Is everything alright, dear? You seem distracted.”

The conductor’s question was innocent, but with her eyes glued to you, it felt as if she was peering into your soul. Agatha possessed that rare ability to read you better than anyone ever had before. Nodding, you cleared your throat, and decided walking around would help clear your head. “Yeah, I’m fine. How about I go grab those pieces for you, and while I’m grabbing your morning coffee, I can ask a few of the interns to start making copies of the music?”

Agatha was looking at you with a suspicious expression, as if she didn’t believe you. “Don’t worry about the coffee, dear. I already sent Marcus out to get everyone’s orders.”

“Wait, everyone’s orders?”

“The interns haven’t been annoying me as much lately, so I decided to treat them to coffee,” Agatha explained, causing you to arch an eyebrow. “What? I have high standards, but I’m not a tyrant.”

“And who’s Marcus?” You ran through the names of the interns in your head and couldn’t remember there ever being a Marcus.

“Marcus is the really tall, sort of scrawny one.” Agatha replied, giving you a description which could fit over half of the interns working at the MSO.

“Agatha, there isn’t an intern named Marcus.”

Agatha frowned, clearly perplexed. “I’ve been calling him Marcus for months and he’s never said anything.”

You were tempted to say that he was probably too afraid to correct the conductor, but refrained. Agatha was making a lot of progress with the interns, and you were weirdly proud of her. “Well, then while ‘Marcus’ is getting your coffee I’ll get started on grabbing the pieces.”——————————————————————————Agatha’s POV

Shortly after Y/N went off to get her work done, you were in the midst of sending emails to the social media manager regarding new publicity for the fall concert when the red haired menace popped her head in your doorway. Frowning, you pointed to the Do Not Disturb sign you had one of the interns tape to your door. “Are you incapable of reading English in addition to notation now too, Maximoff? I’m busy.”

Wanda rolled her eyes as she ripped the sign off your door before walking it in, closing it behind her. “You have a lot of nerve, Agatha. First leaking that story, and then having my contract with the MSO voided? Are you still that upset with me?”

You wanted to inform Wanda that you weren’t upset with her, you merely had no desire or want to ever be within 100 yards of her ever again. However the first accusation caused you to grow even more irritated with the pianist. You knew perfectly well who leaked the story, but you currently had bigger fish to fry. “I know this is a difficult concept for you specifically to grasp, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Why would I leak a story that has the potential to destroy my reputation?”

Wanda fell silent at that, appearing to allow the words to sink into her thick-headed skull. “I didn’t think of that.”

Of course she didn’t think of that. Again, you had to bite your tongue before saying something you would ultimately regret. “I have a lot of work to get through, so if you could please allow me to get back to it.”

The pianist pulled a signed check out of her coat pocket. “And I’m not taking this money either.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you tried to think of those meditation exercises Y/N had shown you. “Wanda, your contract payout stated you were to be paid fifty-thousand dollars. Not giving you that money would be a breach of contract.”

Glaring at you, Wanda waved the check in the air. “But this isn’t the MSO’s money. It’s yours, and I don’t want it.”

Ah. Yes. It was your money. Most of the board members who were not being…persuaded to vote for your concert changes had argued there wasn’t enough money to pay Wanda, and have enough funds for the soloist you were eyeing to take her place. So you proposed to pay Wanda out directly. You would do anything to not have to deal with the Sokovian nuisance any longer than you had to.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you wondered when the sweet relief of death would come. “Just take the money and go, Wanda.”

As usual, instead of following your wishes, she just stood there, staring you down. If there was one thing you would admit that Wanda was an expert at, it was being terribly, annoyingly, and extremely stubborn. Shutting your laptop, you folded your hands on top of it and looked up at her. “What is it going to take to get you to go away?”

“Let me stay on as the fall concert soloist,” Wanda requested, and you couldn’t help but let out a loud cackle. Was she insane? In what universe would that ever be a good idea?

“Wanda-” You tried to intervene but the pianist held a finger up for you to be quiet, and stunned at the audacity, you let her cut you off.

“You’re single-handedly making this orchestra the greatest it’s been in decades, and I would be honored if you let me stay on as the soloist.” Wanda stated calmly, and you tried your best not to roll her eyes. She just wouldn’t stop, would she? “I know you hate me, Agatha. But this isn’t anything personal, it’s business. I swear I won’t do anything to get under your skin, and I’ll even leave Y/N alone. I can see that it bothers you.”

If you weren’t already agitated enough, her last remark nearly sent you over the edge. “I have no idea what you are referring to. Besides, I already asked a violinist to come on for Tchaikovsky, you’re not needed.”

Wanda had unfortunately usually been able to see right past you, a trait you found maddening. “Natasha told me, but said if I was able to get my position back she would gracefully bow out.”

Damn that Russian violinist. “Fine. Then I’ll cut Tchaikovsky and look elsewhere for someone to play Rachmaninoff. You’re not the only pianist in Manhattan, Maximoff.”

Wanda shrugged, thinking over what you said. “No, but I am the best.”

Cocky as ever, what a surprise. “I’m not rehiring you, Maximoff. There’s a greater chance of me giving that imbecile Dottie a raise than allowing you back on my stage.”

“You seem different with her,” Wanda noted, the sudden shift giving you whiplash, though her tone was thoughtful. “Happier.”

“If you’re trying to get in my good graces, you are failing miserably,” You deadpanned, wishing Y/N would hurry up. What was taking her so long?

“She’s a fine violinist, there’s lots of potential there. And I know Natasha was impressed with her as well,” Wanda added, and you froze. Natasha? What did Natasha have to do with this?

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What are you talking about?”

Wanda hesitated, and you watched her with a calculated frown. As talented as Wanda was at playing the piano, she was just as lousy a liar. “Nothing. We’re getting off topic.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to get any more information out of her now that she’d clammed up, and as much as you hated to admit it, she had a point. There were at least a dozen pianists you could think of that would be available, but none of them came close to Wanda. Damn her. It was now clear that Natasha being interested in your offer was probably just some sick ploy to get her friend her job back. You missed the days where most musicians were too cut throat to even think about friendship.

Then there was the issue of Tyler Hayward. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was the one who leaked the story to The Times. How he found out was the least of your concerns; the music world was relatively small enough that once one or two people heard it would spread like wildfire. You knew it was the same reason he hired Wanda in the first place; he was trying to get rid of you. In his slimy, conniving little brain he probably assumed that if bringing Wanda in didn’t get you to quit, leaking a potentially scandalous story to the press would force you to resign.

Unfortunately for Hayward, he miscalculated; the board didn’t care that much about gossip from years ago. Even worse, now that Wanda was staying, the concert would most likely be sold out in the coming weeks. It seemed his plan was failing miserably, and as much as you wanted to relish in that delightful fact, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had any other tricks up his sleeve. To that end, you had had a rather enlightening dinner the other night with Mr. Laufeyson, where he informed you of far more interesting, recent scandals that conductors and musicians alike had been getting into- giving you enough ammunition to secure yourself against any future potential fallout from this little episode. It never hurt to be prepared, after all, and you were hellbent on not letting anything to do with Wanda Maximoff catch you flat footed ever again.

Realizing you had kept Wanda waiting long enough, you let out a bored sigh. “Fine.” You gave the pianist a cold, dead stare. “Rehearsal is tomorrow at six. Don’t be late.”

Wanda had a blank expression on her face, as if she couldn’t believe you’d actually rehired her. “You’re serious?”

Ignoring her, you went back to your work; you were behind enough as it was. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Maximoff. Now get out of my office, and rip up that check. I’m not paying you twice.”

Wanda offered a quiet, but sincere thanks as she left your office, leaving you alone to your thoughts once more

——————————————————————————

Y/N POV

The rest of the day passed by rather quickly. You were surprised when Agatha informed you that she’s decided to keep Wanda on after all as the soloist, but you were thankful she did. Even after the article was released spilling the beans about Agatha’s previous relationship with Wanda, you’d never had any negative feelings toward the pianist. If anything, it made you understand the dynamic a bit better. Wanda had been nothing but nice to you, and as far as you were aware her kindness was genuine. She was also the most talented pianist you had ever met, and watching her play was absolutely mesmerizing.

Agatha had even surprised you with your favorite coffee order when you had finished your work, and you were touched she had remembered (even though she made a teasing remark that oatmilk was an atrocity). Before you knew it, the day was over and everyone had gone home for the evening. Well…almost everyone. You were currently tuning up your violin in the symphony hall, waiting for Agatha to arrive. Right after you finished your scale warm-ups, the side entrance hall doors opened, and Agatha swept in, baton and binder in hand.

“Alright, Y/N, are you warmed up?” Agatha asked as she set her belongings down, making herself comfortable.

Nodding, you adjusted your shoulder rest and your mind briefly flashed to your dream. No, you needed to focus. Being distracted over a sex dream was guaranteed to lead to disaster, and you wouldn’t be able to hold in your embarrassment if Agatha noticed your mind was elsewhere. Instead you tried thinking of the music you were working on, the notes and bow changes would surely distract you.

“Let’s start with the Vitali,” Agatha instructed as she began flipping through her score, and stood up, heading to the stage. “I’m not sure what your thoughts are on the subject, but I was thinking we could do something different this evening?”

You felt your heart rate quicken when you realized she was going to be a lot closer to you. Far too close. “What did you have in mind?”

Setting her binder down on the piano, Agatha smirked at you. “We’re just about done with this piece, and I thought it would be good to add in the piano part.”

It took you a minute to comprehend what Agatha just said. Add in the piano part…you held in the gasp you wanted to let out. Agatha was going to play? You had never heard her perform in person, only in rare archived videos that you spent hours searching for. “You’re going to play…with me?”

Chuckling, the conductor shook her head at you, clearly amused. “If that’s alright, darling. Although I can think of a few ways I’d like to play with you.”

Your breath hitched lightly, and just as you went to take a deep breath, the conductor pulled out the piano bench. As she sat down you were transported to your dream, how vivid the images were in your mind. Agatha sat at the piano bench, all but yanking you by the hair. How you could smell her. Oh, this was going to end badly.

Glancing at Agatha, you were horrified to find her staring back, an all-knowing smirk playing on her lips. Your blush deepened- she couldn’t possibly know what you were thinking, right? You took one more deep breath, and tried to get your body to relax. “From the top?” You tried to sound collected and cool.

The opening of Chaconne featured eight bars of piano accompaniment before your entrance. Agatha’s fingers gracefully swept over the keys and you felt a chill as you heard the notes. No one had heard Agatha perform live, the conductor point blank refused when she was invited to. Despite it being a simple eight bar phrase, you were blown away. She played the piano with such an ease, a rare familiarity that reminded you of breathing. It was as if the piano was a mere extension of her person.

You were so distracted from watching that you almost missed your entrance, and you swore you heard her snicker in response. Your favorite part of playing this piece with solo piano was the intimacy that came along with it. The two instruments played off each other; the piano offering the obvious backing, but there were also moments where you’d synchronize, then Agatha would pick up where your melody left off, expanding on it.

The usual closeness you felt to the conductor was amplified by a thousand while you were like this. How you made sure to play in sync with the other. The way Agatha watched you like a hawk, seemingly being able to follow all of your tempo changes without so much of a cue. It was as if your souls were intertwined, with how easily you worked together. There was something so breathtakingly beautiful about sharing this moment with her, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

As you began a particular passage you had played a million times, you allowed your mind to wander. You knew you needed to make a decision about Vienna, you owed that to Natasha. This morning you had been particularly torn, and as much as you hated to admit it you were leaning towards accepting. You loved Agatha, and you loved your job. But you had never been the kind of person to put your love life before your career. It was basically an unspoken rule in the musical world that your instrument, the music, would always be the number one love in your life. You had sacrificed so much to reach this moment, and it was so close; you were so close.

But now, as you were playing Chaconne with Agatha by your side, you found yourself realizing that you had found something you never thought to be possible. You found the kind of love that you read about growing up, only this was actually real. No, it wasn’t perfect, but you knew nothing in life was. Could you really leave this job behind, leave Agatha behind? You couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. This was your choice, and this is what you wanted more than anything.

Deciding you would call Natasha in the morning, you knew what you needed to do at this very moment. Setting your violin down suddenly, mid-phrase and slightly out of breath, you waited for Agatha to stop too; it took her a beat to notice but when she did, she came to a jarring halt and looked at you with a bewildered expression on her face. You didn’t give her any time to berate you for stopping before you put your violin down, coming to join her on the piano bench.

“Darling, are you alright?” Agatha’s brow creased, as she was clearly torn between scolding you for the sudden pause and checking in on you

Lifting a hand up to her face, gently cupping her cheek, you nodded. Finally doing what you had wanted all day, you leaned in to kiss her. This is what you wanted, and nothing was going to stop you now.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x you #wandavision au #marvel au #agatha wandavision #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness smut

[nanamikeento]

two for one | levi ackerman; erwin smith

ao3

Levi Ackerman x reader x Erwin Smith | chapter one

Summary: You're in the brink of getting evicted. Your income barely pays for the monthly expenses. You'd do anything not to get back to your parents's house. You'd do anything for a better life, for a little more money. Even if it means having an polygamous arrangement with not one, but two sugar daddies. But what happens if you get in the way of their relationship? Or worse, what happens if you fall in love with not one, but both of them? [Modern AU]

Warnings: female reader, polyamorous negotiations, sugar daddy arrangements, feelings of insecurity, body issues, self indulgence (read tags and notes for more warnings)

It shouldn't have come to this.  

But listen. 

Money is low, I desperately need to pay for rent and to start looking for a new place, so I can get out of the dumpster of a studio apartment I live in. My job barely pays for the monthly expenses and it's been so long since I've done something for myself, or went out with friends, or did something that's not work in that godforsaken café.  

Then, one of my friends mentioned that her cousin's best friend met her sugar daddy from a certain agency specialized on it. She mentioned the said girl was now living in a penthouse with him, or something like that. 'Tis was the dream.  

That's why I'm here, sitting in a waiting room that's way too fancy, in a business building that I thought I'd only see in movies, waiting to be called for an appointment. Legs bouncing nervously, I bite my nails already ruining the manicure I gave myself last night.

What if no one matched my profile? I don't think I can handle another rejection.  

Except this was not a relationship agency. Not a typical one, at least.  

Sugar Angels. Even thinking about the name of this place makes me want to cringe. Ugh. I hope the money I spend here is worth coming here. Secretly I hope this works for me, even though the idea of having a sugar daddy makes my spine shiver and my stomach a little sick. Who would've thought I'd actually be here, huh. Not me. Not me, even though I'd made a thousand jokes about needing a sugar daddy.  

But being in the brink of getting evicted was a wakeup call. I'd do anything to not become homeless. And god forbid I go back to my parents' house. That's even worse than living on the streets.  

"First time?" A voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up from my lap to find another woman sitting across from me. She looks younger than me, her long blonde hair bouncing around her face as she smiles. I frown, nodding. I don't even have the guts to voice it.  

“Don’t be nervous, the interview is pretty easy,” the girl says, smiling.  

A deep breath inflated my chest as I let the air in, nodding once more. This girl looks incredibly young to be here, her clear blue eyes and the rosy cheeks on her face make her look like an angel. She exhales innocent energy that didn’t belong to a place like this.  

“The hard part is actually going on dates,” the girl continues speaking, even though I hadn’t said a word. “Some guys are alright, but many of them remind me of my father, you know?” She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  

A small laugh escapes my lips as we laugh together  

“So not your first rodeo, huh?” I surprise  myself by asking.  

Her smile falters a little, but she keeps smiling as if she's trained to. “Unfortunately, not. If you need any tips, let me know.”  

Her joke didn't go over my head, I was just too busy thinking that if this girl has trouble to find someone, let alone me.  

“What’s your name?”  

“Krista.” Her smile grows wider.  

“Well, no offense Krista, but you look way too young to be here.”  

She sighs deeply, leaning her elbows on her knees. “I gotta pay my college tuition one way or another.”  

Right. She's that young.  

“And your name is?”  

Before I can open my mouth to answer, a voice called my name and both of us looked over the open door to find a woman waiting for me  

"Good luck.” Krista whispers as I stand up and walk over to the room. I smile at her and nod.  

"Please take a seat,” the woman tells me when I enter the room. “My name is Hannah and I'll be your agent in this process.”

“Oh,” I answer. “Nice to meet you.”  

An honest smile curves Hannah's lips as she walks around her table to take a sit. Meanwhile I sit on the chair in front of the desk.  

“I took a look at your profile," Hannah says, staring at the computer screen, “the one you made in our website and unfortunately it doesn't have many matches.”  

I deflate, feeling the weight of rejection in my heart.  

“Many men will choose someone younger and still in college as their sugar babies...”  

“Oh.” I can't hide the disappointment on my face. Yes, of course they'd choose someone younger, why wouldn’t they? As if I'm not feeling insecure about my age already.  

"However, there are a few people that match you and I'd like you consider an exclusive one.”  

"Exclusive?” I frown, a little bit confused.  

“It's just an expression to define clients that pay for premium service. They'll pay a higher amount in order to get set up faster than the normal clients.” She explains. “In other words, they're pretty desperate.”  

A mixture of confusion and panic crosses my face and Hannah is quick to calm me down. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna send you anyone you wouldn't like anyway. But I do want you to think about this particular client.” The sounds of her mouse clicking echoes the room for a few seconds before the printer stars working. I watch as she pulls the printed paper to lay it flat on the desk. “They match your profile very well. A lawyer, founder of a law office in the richest part of the city, has many qualities: likes traveling, boat riding, cooking and exercising in the mornings.”  

I skim the page, reading his description: blonde, blue eyes, 188cm in height...  

“He's fairly young too,” Hannah continues, “only 37 years old...”  

I raise me eyebrows, looking back at her, actually surprised that my profile matched his, we have almost nothing in common... Why is this guy so desperate for a sugar baby, anyway? He seems like a good catch, maybe even out of my league. And so young as well... I've heard of scammers that pretend to be sugar daddies but only want some action instead. And I've never heard of someone so young, who actually has money and wants a sugar baby.  

“But?” I ask, a little suspicious.  

Hannah sighs, “He doesn't come on his own.” She lays another paper on the desk. Another profile, "He has a partner. Enjoys cooking, appreciating wine, taking a walk on parks–”  

“Wait– Hold on–” I interrupt the agent. “Partner as in?”  

“Boyfriend.” Hannah nods. “He has a boyfriend.”  

Read the full work on ao3

#levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #levi ackerman #erwin smith #shinjeki no kyojin #attack on titan #dont @ me im having thots about these two #myfics

[confused-bi-queer]

Well, hello there. I haven’t done this is a bit, aaaaaaaand I feel like shit😁👍 it’s not the reason why I usually feel bad about, so it’s weird. I mean, I’m functioning and I actually feel nice overall but I do feel down, so if there’s any full-on angsty hurt no comfort fic rec you have, throw it at me. Sooo, I bring angst here.

Last chapter of my Ballet AU, chapter 6 was SnowBaz sort of starting to make up after getting certain role for certain ballet, so they’re going to start getting along on Ch 7. But that chapter will be a hole thing, with lots of different emotions, so I have the angst here. This is Simon thinking things were going to change between Baz and him and then they don’t!!! (I sounded more excited about that than I should have but I feel like shit!! And I’m gonna cry if I don’t laugh at this)

SIMON

“Do you want to go for a drink or something?” I propose, turning to him. […].

I don’t want our process of getting along to vanish. I need to make sure he’s not going to slip away from me. That he’s not going to pretend today didn’t happen.

“I think I’m going to pass, Snow,” he says harshly, without looking at me. “If your friends left you on your own devices you don’t have to resort to the enemy for comfort.”

I frown. “To the enemy? What are you even—You can just say no, you know. I mean, I just thought you were happy because—”

“Well, you thought wrong.” [MORE STUFF]. “I’m going to be excited when I dance better than anyone here.” [redacted].

He shakes his head.

“I need to be perfect,” he says.

“Are you going to rehearse now, then? Is that what you’re saying? Just give yourself a break.”

A tear slides down his face, matching his bottom lip’s tremble. My frown disolves.

He’s being a dick because something happened. Something else. That must be it. He was so relaxed and calm at rehearsal; just a few moments ago. What changed?

“Baz, I’m sure you can rest for one day. You’re going to tire yourself to death.”

Before Mummers wanted him, his knee almost gave out because he didn’t rest properly. He’s going to hurt himself.

Finally, he turns to me.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” he asks through gritted teeth. “For the first time in your godforsaken life, leave me alone.”

He walks away from me.

When I know he won’t see me from where he is, I wipe my face.

I thought today was going to change things between us… I—I really thought we were getting somewhere different, that we were starting something new… But yeah, I guess I did think wrong.

We can’t simply erase years from our history, can we?

Yes, so this is perfectionist Baz sabotaging himself and Simon not knowing if he should leave him alone or trying harder. Because he’s Simon Snow ofc he tries and tries. He doesn’t get no for an answer. I love him.

Thank you for the tags: @facewithoutheart @ionlydrinkhotwater @aroace-genderfluid-sheep

Now tagging: @artsyunderstudy @erzbethluna @urban-sith @martsonmars @captain-aralias @wellbelesbian @nightimedreamersworld @sillyunicorn @tea-brigade @palimpsessed @excalisbury @qyx @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @katmiscellanious @yeonjunenby @aristocratic-otter @forabeatofadrum @facewithoutheart @foolofabookwyrm-activated @bookish-bogwitch @cutestkilla @johnwgrey @moodandmist @angelsfalling16 @ineffable-grimm-pitch @kohatenz @hushed-chorus @whogaveyoupermission @ic3-que3n @whatevertheweather @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @basiltonbutliketheherb @gekkoinapeartree @takitalks @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @letraspal @castawaypitch @subparselkie

#simon snow #snowbaz #baz pitch #carry-on #cobb 2022 #ballet au #baz x simon #carry on big bang 2022

[cyanide-e-pistachio]

WIP Game

Rules: Go to your current WIP and share the following:

The first line of your work.

The first line of your current chapter (or if it’s a one-shot, the first line of the tenth paragraph).

The last line you wrote.

A line for a chapter/part you haven’t written yet.

Tag at least 3 people whose work you wanna see, and if you make a separate post for it, please link the original.

I was tagged by @nardaviel to do this game! I figured why not participate in a little fun and also share little snippets of my upcoming longfic? :3

First line of the work:

“By all accounts, Goro Akechi was supposed to be dead.”

The first line of the current chapter I’m working on:

“Akira thought that adjusting to the life of a househusband would be easier.”

The last line I wrote:

“Again, this was getting…very complicated, to say the least. Akira had hoped that maybe this world would spontaneously implode or something before he had to come clean to his now husband. But it was still here, they were still married and Akira was balls deep into scrubbing this stubborn piece of stuck rice off this godforsaken bowl.

Okay. Yeah. Maybe it was time to stop playing house. As horrible as the repercussions would be, Akira owed it to Akechi to confess. Who knows—maybe with all his ‘glorious intelliect’, he’d have a few ideas on how to get him back home.”

Line for a part I haven’t written yet (got carried away might delete later 🤪✌🏻)

“‘Something wrong?’ Kurusu asked him.

Akechi blinked, scrambling to find an excuse. ‘No, just…sometimes this feels a little…unreal, don’t you think?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This,’ Akechi said, surprisingly breathless. He stepped closer to Kurusu. ‘Us.’

‘Yeah. I get that too, sometimes.’ Kurusu looked equally as serious, setting down the basket of laundry and closing the distance between them. ‘Even now, it can feel…hard to believe.’

‘Heh. Sometimes I wonder how truly insane you must be to have married me.’

Kurusu grinned. That shit-eating grin Akechi hated. ‘I never said I was normal, did I?’

Exhaustion caused people to do strange things. Some studies say that exhaustion can almost impair someone’s judgement to that of a drunkard. And that really could be the only logical explanation for why Akechi pressed his lips to Kurusu’s own.

Before he could even ask himself why the living fuck he did that, Kurusu wrapped an arm around the small of his back and pressed them flush together. Akechi couldn’t escape, not that fleeing was much of a tangible thought right now.

No, Akechi was too distracted by swallowing the bitterness down his throat and just fucking yielding to this. Just this once. Just this once. He had never thought about kissing someone before this timeline. Except maybe with Kurusu a few times. Maybe more than a few times.

And look at what he was doing right now.

This kiss lasted a little more than 4 seconds. Truthfully it might’ve lasted a minute, maybe more. Akechi couldn’t get enough of the plush and warmth of Kurusu’s lips, a warmth that could only be exuded by a living being, a warmth that Akechi never wanted to admit he craved until now.

Somewhere along the line tongue got involved. If Akechi thought Kurusu’s lips were warm before, they were nothing compared to the pure heat of his mouth, slipping past his own lips and invading his entire being. Akechi tangled his hands into the fabric of Akira’s shirt, growing fervid from the other man’s soft hums and quiet pants, feeling like he may burst at the seams at any moment.

Shit. This was evil. This was delicious. Maybe this was everything Akechi imagined and then some.

When they both found it within themselves to pull back, they were flushed, breathless. Akira stared back at him, eyes blown wide with something resembling desperation and uncertainty and yearning, all at once.

They were on the razor’s edge. One more push. One more move and Akechi would be done for. His carefully crafted being would burn to ash, leaving a fool in the cinders.

And one thought kept his flame burning, alive: no matter what, this wasn’t real.

It wasn’t.”

I’ll tag users @sixteen-juniper @honeysweetcorvidae @ser-estinien to participate in the game! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and I can add you as well 💚

#wip game #my writing #shuake #fanfic #persona 5 royal

[seeingivy]

This last chap of roommates was amazingggg

One thing though is that I had a hard time keeping up with who was saying what when multiple people were involved in the dialogue 😪 (but it might just be the tism)

Also Tumblr didn’t tag me for this one! I’m on the tag list and I see my user but they are just evil 😞 luckily I was super excited and decided to check randomly 🩷🩷

AH ILL TRY MY BEST TO EDIT THE LAST CHAPTER RN TO MAKE IT EASIER TO UNDERSTAND IM SO SORRY

also idk how to fix the tags issue idk why it like greys some of them out and doesn't work but I feel so bad...someone pls teach me how to use this godforsaken website </3

#asks!

[booksanxietyandsports]

Here to entertain (or not): what’s your dream podium for this season? what’s your favorite hill? who from the retired jumpers would you like to un-retire? 😅

i knew i could trust someone in this godforsaken tag

any podium with welle on it (no one’s surprised) and then preferably stephan too, but that’s quite unrealistic so i’d settle for one individual podium each. i do love friendship/teammate podiums (like the few geigenbichler podiums we had last season) and i feel like maybe kraftböck or the norwegians can give us that (if we’re talking dream podiums then i’d like one with danny and maybe johann thanks very much)

my favourite hill is whatever hill is giving us good conditions at the time <3 ruka was an absolute dream today and i do love oberstdorf and then lahti is fun and actually i don’t really have a favourite i’m just still traumatized from bischofshofen

severin and richi, no further comment or imma get sad

thanks for entertaining me luv <33

#ski jumping #asks

[the-void-writes]

Three Photos Game

Rules: find 3 photos/images (they can be anything at all, memes, vintage photographs, quotes, anything) that you feel describe your wip. If you want, you can tell a little bit your story, too.

The Freaks of Preston

“Being a Freak can be scary, but that’s why I won’t make you do it alone.”

“Even if people start hating you, too?”

“Even then. I’ll let you in on a secret: they’re all just scared. You’re a sweet and thoughtful kid, and they’ll see that one day. I promise you, they will see it. They’ll learn to let you live.”

Will stared at him for a bit, trying to process everything in his little child-mind. Then, he hugged Jason like they were saying goodbye at an airport.

“Thank you for everything,” Will said.

“It’s never a problem. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

“Always and forever?”

Jason smiled. “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Our Side of Paradise

Pedra kneeled down to the floor, almost falling over as Sophie tackled her for a hug.

“Hey, sweetie.” Pedra said. “I came over as fast as I could.”

“What are you doing outside of Paradise?” Sophie asked.

“When you disappeared, everyone freaked out. King Gazali said you went to find your father, so I offered to come help you.”

“What about your vow? Alex said you guys would never leave Paradise.”

Pedra sighed. “That was something we agreed upon when we first arrived. Leaving Paradise meant we would age again, and living with those godforsaken people just wasn’t worth it. But you, mija, you’re worth every risk. You’re one of us now, and we don’t give up on our family.”

Sophie smiled. “Thank you, Pedra.”

“No problem, dear. We’re always here for you.”

Bluebrook

There were scrambled footsteps inside the apartment, and the door opened to reveal a very flustered Adrien. His glasses were slightly lopsided, and his shirt was on backwards. Page chuckled.

“Is this a bad time?”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien said, “I didn’t realize the time. I’ll be out in a—”

“Buddy, relax, it’s Saturday.”

“Oh… Okay, good.”

“I’m sorry, did we interrupt something?”

Miles tried to peek inside. “Is it Mike?”

Page nudged him in the ribs. “He doesn’t need to say anything.”

But the rising color in Adrien’s face proved Miles right. He called out into the room.

“I’m happy for you both!”

Micah laughed, and Adrien smiled blissfully at the sound. Page was overjoyed for her colleague, finally finding happiness in this war-torn town.

For All Eternity

“I think I know how you feel. I can see it somewhere, but it’s all fuzzy.”

“You lost someone?”

“They saved me.” Ash held his head. “I was too weak, and they saved me.”

Dante sighed. “I’m sorry, man… On the bright side, that means someone out there really loved you. Dan wasn’t the only one, and I guarantee he won’t be the last, either.”

He jumped as Ash rested his head against him.

“Thank you, Dante.”

His heart fluttered at how softly Ash said his name, like friends whispering at a sleepover. This poor, sick man had a serious effect on him, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, and didn’t mind feeling again.

“You’ll find love again, Ash, I promise.”

————————————

Thanks for the tag @muddshadow I loved doing this! I’ll tag @magefaery @bloodlessheirbyjacques @kashacreates @jess-p-edits if they feel like joining 😊

#writeblr #writing community #tag games #wip: freaks of preston #wip: our side of paradise #wip: bluebrook #wip: for all eternity

[savage-rhi]

Immortal Shield  Chapter 4: Pit Stop Bickering

**if you want to be tagged in chapter updates on tumblr, lemme know. 

The first several days of the journey had been interesting to say the least. For Ardyn anyway. He couldn’t speak on Caelan’s behalf yet she seemed to be holding up.

Traveling on foot for long stretches wasn’t an undertaking Ardyn was used to. Not when he was working for the empire. He reminisced of when he was younger, learning the ways of Eos and its many routes while he performed his pilgrimage healing the sick. He was more than fit to take on such adventures 2,000 years ago. Now, it felt painful. At least during the day. Ardyn was still attempting to reconcile how different his body felt this time around without the chaos of the starscourge encouraging him to press on. His endurance had been sufficiently hindered by comparison when he had daemons running amok under the flesh.

Sleep used to be something Ardyn could never obtain once he started daemonifying, not truly unless there was a strong chemical cocktail involved. Usually in the form of alcohol and sleeping aids. When Ardyn could sleep with the starscourge ravaging his mind, there were little to no dreams. Nothing to give him hope that he’d see Aera again or find peace. Since he re-awakened, Ardyn’s experiences had been the opposite. He was dreaming more vividly and his circadian rhythm was a mess. It became more prominent once he started traveling with Caelan. He started to loathe camping immediately, never imagining he'd come to miss Galdin Quay and the inn he resided at for a time.

The hot climate in the Leide region was different compared to what it was in the past. There were times Ardyn struggled to keep up because of how overheated he became. He knew it drove Caelan nuts at the amount of breaks he needed to take, but a reminder here and there about what Caelan was getting out of their pact had her mouth shut. That didn't stop the cold stares or snark utterances she'd drop on the occasion.

Ardyn couldn’t help but glance at his companion while they walked side by side, seeing Caelan was still wearing a look of irritation from their last pit stop.

“You haven’t spoken a word since we last restocked. I’m beginning to think you hate me.” Ardyn smirked, feigning he was wounded as he looked ahead of the road, feeling Caelan’s glare upon him.

“I didn’t think the powerful immortal was going to be taking so many damn naps,” Caelan said begrudgingly. “We could’ve been at Longwythe Peak by now.”

“Like I stated the other night, I’m not used to the sun. I’m more of a nocturnal creature.”

“Sure snore like one,” Caelan huffed. “I couldn’t focus on jack shit with the noise coming from you. Remind me again, why you have an issue with the sun?”

Ardyn furrowed his brows, taking in a deep breath as he felt a twinge of agitation. Surely she had been paying attention before, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. He didn’t like repeating himself too often. Then again he attempted to put himself in her shoes; Caelan hadn’t any real rest because of him. Her grouchiness was his doing, and despite being rather delighted he so easily got under her skin, Ardyn knew he was being an imbecile.

“With the starscourge and daemonic entities within myself, I became sensitive to the light. My skin used to burn, almost catch flame. The garb Verstael and the tailors of Niflheim made for me protected my body. Luckily, this time around, my skin isn’t as sensitive but I still feel pain. I feel drained walking out in this godforsaken heat.”

Caelan sighed. He did have a point. The weather had been atrocious as of late. Temperatures were at an all time high and traveling without air conditioning was foolish, but the two made their bed and needed to lie in it. At least Caelan knew she did. It was her bright idea to take off the following morning after Ardyn and she made their arrangements.  

“I still think we should’ve waited another day or two before travel.” Ardyn said, snapping Caelan out of her thoughts.

“We had to leave,” Caelan said bluntly.

“Yes, you said that.” Ardyn paused and raised a brow. The two of them making eye contact for a moment before Caelan adjusted her pack and looked away. “You never mentioned why though. I’m assuming it’s because of the men and women seeking to capture you. What could you have possibly done that would incur the wrath of so many?”

Caelan could tell from how high the sun was that they would need to make camp soon to escape the worst of the rays. Maybe even catch up on sleep loss. She tried to ignore Ardyn’s remarks, stopping for a moment to get an idea of how many miles they had traversed.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now,” Caelan sighed. “Do you see anything ahead, anything that looks decent enough to set up camp?”

“So soon? We were just getting started.” Ardyn shook his head. He used his right hand to block the sun from his eyes as he squinted, diligently looking for a place where Caelan and he would have high ground.

“I think there’s a plateau ahead. That or I’m hallucinating because it’s so damn hot.”

“For a man over 1,000 years old, you complain a lot.” Caelan said bluntly. Giving a laugh as Ardyn chuckled.

“I’ve done my time and then some. I deserve to make a fuss.”

“Sounding like a senior citizen everyday. Maybe we should tour a nursing home once we reach Insomnia. Save the king some trouble. Hell, I might just buy you a casket on wheels. Might work better than the car.” Caelan joked. She could tell she struck a nerve as Ardyn rolled his eyes and walked ahead of her. She smiled so big, Caelan could feel her cheeks hurting. It felt good when she could give Ardyn his comeuppance, especially with the many times he already pushed her buttons.

Caelan looked to the left for a moment, taking a gander at some Anaks. The long necked beasts with their brown coats made their way across the arid landscape with their young close by. Their high pitched squeaks could be heard for miles as they galloped to an area with more foliage. Caelan had been on the road for years, but it never got old seeing sights like that.

It suddenly dawned on Caelan she couldn’t find Ardyn anywhere. Her head quickly snapped several directions, wondering how on earth she could’ve lost sight of him. She started sprinting for the Gods knew how long, every so often taking a break to catch her breath. Minutes ticked by with no sign of the redhead, and she was beginning to worry.

Deciding to stop and scout, Caelan squinted her eyes. Shielding her face from the sun with her left hand, she let out a sigh of relief seeing Ardyn come back into view on the road. He wasn’t alone. He was sitting on the passenger side of a pick up truck, rolling towards her direction. Eyes widened, Caelan was speechless as Ardyn grinned like a kid at Christmas when they finally stopped several several feet in front of her. Ardyn getting out and shutting the door as he waved in her direction.

“You can thank me later. I talked this gentleman into giving us a lift. There will be no need for camp.” Ardyn mused as Caelan watched him head for the back end of the truck, making himself comfortable as she followed suit. She didn't bother to talk to the driver except nod to him out of thanks while walking past the drivers side, to which the old timer smiled in return.

“There was no one for miles, how the hell did you find the guy? I only looked away for a minute and you were gone.” Caelan swore as Ardyn chuckled amusingly.

“It takes a lot out of me, but I decided to teleport to save us some time.” Ardyn explained.

“What?!” Caelan responded in shock as Ardyn shrugged nonchalantly. As if having a power like that was too simple for the likes of himself. “Since when could you do that?”

“Since forever,” Ardyn joked, smiling as he watched Caelan sigh and roll her eyes. “I concentrated on where a cluster of people were located closest to us, then I imagined myself being there. Voila.”

“If you could do that the entire time, then why don’t you just teleport to Insomnia?” Caelan countered, crossing her arms as she leaned back on the siding of the cargo bed. The engine roared to life and the truck began to make a U-turn.

“You ask so many questions,” Ardyn sighed. More so out of amusement than agitation. “I’m limited at how far I can travel. Otherwise I would’ve done so. I also get rather tired using it. I guess I’m not as strong as I used to be.”

Ardyn stretched his arms, yawning as he relaxed. He sat across from Caelan in the cargo bed. His legs stretched out alongside hers as they enjoyed the breeze during the ride. The air was hot but it wasn’t as sweltering versus on foot.

“So, how far was the driver from us?” Caelan asked out of curiosity, looking at Ardyn as he hummed. He truly looked exhausted after warping, his eyes threatening to close at any moment.

“Fifteen minutes give or take, at a pit stop past the plateau we would’ve made camp at funny enough. We should arrive at Hammerhead by nightfall. I suggest we rent out a caravan there for the night.”

“So I was running around looking for you that long, while you were enjoying cool air conditioning coming back to fetch me?” Caelan asked irritably to which Ardyn smiled.

“If its any consolation, I find it endearing you cared enough to try and find me.”

“You’re paying me to be your shield, gotta throw in the compassion you paid for.” Caelan said sarcastically.

“Ah, you’re the ‘can’t mix business with pleasure type’. I can respect that.” Ardyn complimented.

Caelan shook her head in disbelief. It seemed Ardyn always had a new trick up his sleeve. She briefly reminisced about the past couple nights they had made camp. How he could conjure up weapons with a snap of his fingers, the royal arms he called it, the legendary arsenal of former kings. Ardyn easily took down a sabertusk their first night with that power. Ensuring they had meat for two days as well as putting years of training Caelan had undergone to shame. He could easily start a camp fire using magic while it would normally take twenty minutes of prep for Caelan. She even recalled Ardyn sharing an ancient skill of finding water in the desert terrain by digging down to the roots under the bases of trees. Something she didn’t even know was a thing.

Ardyn was like the human embodiment of a swiss army knife, and it humored Caelan to no end as well as provoked her. All that power, all of those abilities, and yet he wanted nothing more than to cast it aside for death. Not to mention there was a vast richness of history he possessed yet told her so little about. Being over 2,000 years old, Caelan was curious about what kinds of marvels Ardyn had seen during his time. She was too chicken to ask, plus they would be within Insomnia’s walls in a matter of days. It would be a waste of time. That's how she justified her cowardice.

Ardyn was capable of so much, and it fascinated yet frightened Caelan during the short time they had known one another. It scared her as much as the fact that she was traveling with the Adagium. The man who inadvertently ruined her life when she was younger and not just the world. Gods above, if Julian, her father, could see this now he’d be rolling in his grave. Caelan thanked her lucky stars he was no longer involved in her life.

Nightfall had come, and sure enough as Ardyn promised, they arrived at Hammerhead in one piece. As soon as Caelan got off the back of the pick up truck, she headed to the Hammerhead shop to get an update on her vehicle while Ardyn conversed further with the man who drove them.

While Caelan approached the garage port, she could feel her confidence dwindle as an assistant came out from underneath a truck being repaired. He sat up and gave a friendly nod.

“Howdy!”

“Howdy back! I know it’s late but is Cindy in? I’m a client of hers.” Caelan asked as the younger man shook his head. He wiped some oil off his forehead.

“Sorry miss, but Cindy and her paw-paw Cid had an emergency.”

“Oh,” Caelan furrowed her brows. Recalling the old timer was sick around the time she requested her car to be towed. “Is Cid doing alright? Cindy mentioned he was unwell.”

“Oh he’s fine now!” The assistant was quick to say with a laugh. “Nah, they had a friend that needed some help ASAP with their vehicle. Never saw a 92 year old man run so damn fast in my life. Must’ve been important. I know you ain’t my client, but what’s your car? I can give ya’ll an update.”

“It’s the Scepter. The muscle type.” Caelan smiled, feeling relieved that the old timer hadn’t croaked just yet. The few times Caelan had met Cid, he was a blast to be around once you’d get over the profanity and sometimes nonsense that left him.

“Alrighty, gimme five minutes.” The assistant hopped up, dusted his pants off and headed further into the garage.

Caelan leaned up against the entryway of the garage port. Her eyes carefully scanned over the tools and various vehicles being worked on. Ever since the king and his cohorts swore up and down over Hammerheads services, not to mention Cid and Cindy being considered war heroes, business boomed during the last five years. Hammerhead expanded, with more garages and other establishments scattered across Lucis, yet Cindy and her grandfather managed to keep the small rustic charm of the original location.

For Caelan, it was strange to see Hammerhead reverted back into its original state from a hunter stronghold during the Dark Decade, to a fully up and running garage and pit stop. Caelan felt nostalgic as she looked towards the office space within the port, seeing near the entry point a large wall with photographs of hunters, kingsglaive, crownsguard, and ordinary folk that fought during the Dark Decade. She herself was up there, though much younger with a few Hunters that were long dead. It amazed Caelan that in such a short lifespan, she had seen so many come and go.

Caelan felt a shadow cast behind her, and she quickly turned to see Ardyn. He looked disappointed as she sighed in relief.

“Why do you look so glum?” Caelan asked as Ardyn gestured towards the area where the caravans were parked.

“Every caravan is taken for the night. It seems we will have to camp after all. How’s your car?” Ardyn asked.

“I’m waiting for an update as we speak. You don’t sound enthusiastic.” Caelan said with a tease as Ardyn rubbed his head and looked away. “I thought you liked camping with me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind you at all. But I must say sleeping in close proximity has been bothersome. I’m not the only one that snores, for the record.”

“Well don’t snuggle up next to me and we won’t have a problem.” Caelan joked as Ardyn shot a brief glare towards her.

“You can be quite infuriating.” Ardyn frowned.

“It’s charisma.” Caelan huffed. Her eyes focusing on the assistant as he waved from afar, traveling back to them.

The assistant gave a quick tip of his hat to Ardyn then furrowed his brows. Caelan could feel herself bracing for the worst as the assistant took in a deep breath, his palms together almost as if he was performing a prayer.

“Do you want the bad news or the good news first honey?” He asked.

“Just hit me.” Caelan was blunt. At this point, things couldn’t get worse than they already were. At least when it came to her vehicle.

“Good news is, Cindy got the parts installed for you. The engines been replaced, and she went ahead and smoothed out all them punctures from the damn Flexitusk you were wranglin’. Bad news is because a Scepter engine is scarce nowadays, you’re looking at 17,000 gil for the total.”  

Caelan bit her lip. “Well I can--”

“That won’t be a problem,” Ardyn interjected as Caelan looked his way as if he were crazy. He merely smiled at the assistant and continued. “Do you accept credits from Niflheim?”

“We ain’t picky,” The assistant shrugged. “Some establishments ain’t as kind to imperial refugees despite the restoration movement, and I’m proud to say we ain’t one of them folks. I can ring ya’ll up now and you can pick up the car first thing in the mornin’.”

The whole process was rather quick, and the entire time Caelan was utterly speechless. Watching Ardyn give away his money nonchalant, as if he wasn’t being robbed, had her wondering just how much gil or whatever he had in total. Then again, he was a chancellor. The emperor had to have paid him a fortune. Nevertheless, Caelan didn’t feel right about it considering the man was going to fork over 40,000 gil upon arrival of his execution date. She decided not to bring it up to Ardyn after much thought.

Afterward, the two traveled a little ways outside of Hammerhead toward a designated camping post. They were both silent, Caelan adjusting her backpack with the tent and other necessaries while Ardyn carried the ration bag. Eventually making it to a decent spot where they could still see the lights of Hammerhead from afar, they began to unpack and set up.

“I thought you would be pleased to be here.” Ardyn said aloud, catching Caelan out of her thoughts as she looked away from the scenery and focused back on Ardyn.

“Huh?” She was taken back as he made a face.

“You seem more upset now than when we were traveling by foot,” Ardyn paused for a moment, looking behind them as he heard footsteps, assuming it was a creature but to his relief it was another group of people making camp.

“It was my assumption that you’d be less apathetic once you’d get your car.”

“I guess I’m just at a loss,” Caelan said with a shrug.

“Really, about what?” Ardyn asked, his tone inquisitive as Caelan let out an exasperated sigh.

“Lots of things. Mainly how you’re powerful physically, mentally, and materially. If I’m being honest, this whole thing about you getting dropped off at Insomnia to die again is pissing me off. You haven’t been alive for even a month, and you already want to bow out, especially when you got over 50,000 gil to drop at random? I mean---c’mon!” Caelan yelled out, knowing she wasn’t making her points in full. She was surprised when Ardyn began to crack up.

“You are angry with me!” Ardyn said in between fits, looking proud of himself. He noticed how the past four days, Caelan had grown more irritable with him it seemed. He now finally had an answer.

“Yes! Yes, I am!” Caelan said as a matter of fact, nailing down the final post of the tent as she stood up and faced him. Now feeling emboldened. “You’re immortal and Eos was nearly brought to ruin!”

“Of which was my fault--” Ardyn began.

“However,” Caelan interrupted. “You have an opportunity here being alive yet again to make a difference and fix things. Things that you royally screwed up, yet you take no pride or privilege of being offered what men would kill for! Another shot!”

Ardyn’s eyes slightly widened as her words grew more firm with each passing sentence. He was humored to no end at how bold she sounded. As he crouched down to the firepit to set it up, he shook his head out of disbelief with a sigh.

“I’m afraid my tales of immortality these past few nights we’ve become acquainted have given you a false sense of grandeur on my part.” Ardyn mused, waving his hand over the pit as sparks began to rise from the ground. He made an up and down motion with his palm, and the flame sprouted like a plant until it was a mature fire.

“Or maybe you’re a coward that doesn’t see potential staring him in the face.” Caelan remarked, looking at Ardyn incredulously.

“Pray tell sweet girl, if you were in my position, what would you do with this so called exclusive opportunity?”

Ardyn chuckled darkly, taking a seat on the ground while Caelan finished up the interior of the tent. He watched as she crawled out of it, dusting her pants before sitting beside him. She shoved a small bag of the meat from their earlier travels at his chest, causing Ardyn to grunt.

“I wouldn’t have called a woman I barely know a sweet girl, cause that’s creepy.”

Ardyn merely laughed, not seeming to be phased in the slightest at her insult. As much as the man had been infuriating at times, Caelan felt herself begin to laugh a little too. She cleared her throat.

“Second, I’d ask where I’m needed and where I can make the biggest impact to rectifying the mistakes I made. If there was even an opportunity to go back to Niflheim and somehow make amends, I’d do it without a second thought. Maybe approach the king and ask for--”

Caelan stopped in her tracks, looking to her side as Ardyn regarded her with more laughter and a fond smile on his face.

“What’s so amusing?”

“You,” Ardyn started. “This passion that runs away with you. You ever feel exhausted by it?”

“No,” Caelan paused, seemingly stuck on her words as she furrowed her brows. “Not until I met your sorry ass.”

Ardyn laughed. “I’ll consider it an honor of sorts then.”

Caelan shook her head. At this point in the conversation, she was too speechless and grumpy to say anything much less open up her own bag of leftover meat. She was surprised at feeling a touch upon her shoulder, her eyes darting to Ardyn’s hand before reaching his gaze. He offered a few pats, like one would give to a pet, before withdrawing.

“You have a kind heart, and a kind heart has no place among kings, people, and politicians who don’t see the world through rose tinted glasses. Especially regarding the Adagium himself.” Ardyn sighed. He knew Caelan meant well, though he scarcely doubt she would be touting the same rhetoric if the shoe was on the other foot. For barely knowing her, Ardyn did admire Caelan had a certain impudence.

“Things are so different than they were ten or even five years ago,” Caelan sighed. Her brows knitted. “Especially after the starscourge, what you did, it’s a whole new Eos.”

“If it were that simple to beg forgiveness, then why are you yourself terrified to set foot in the crown city and plead your case? If you’re not guilty and committed no crimes, surely the powers that be will see the repentance you’re offering and all is forgiven.” Ardyn’s tone came off as rather callous and sarcastic. "You know as well as I, that no one listens. And you don't have to share your sob story for me to know that."

Ardyn’s voice was bitter to Caelan as her eyes searched his. She visibly swallowed. Much like Ardyn had tried to keep a lot about his past under lock and key, she too was on the same ship. Caelan recalled she had done a good job dodging Ardyn’s prying questions about her history, and she found herself subconsciously thankful they only had less than a day left together.

“That’s--I know what you’re up to,” Caelan spoke softly. Trying to diffuse the tension all the while hold her ground.

“You’re trying to project and dodge the conversation by targeting my issues. Ardyn, if I had an ounce of what you have, if I was anything like you, I’d do everything you said. I’m merely a regular human and not a politician. You though---man,” she shook her head. “If you gave yourself a chance, you could rise again. On your terms. I can't do that, and I admit I envy you.”

“Cahl,” Ardyn gently grabbed a hold of Caelan’s chin, the touch calm as he glanced over face. He wasn’t sure why he did this. Even more uncertain about his feelings at this moment. A slight smile snuck onto his lips. He couldn’t believe that someone who was practically a stranger border lining acquaintance, would vouch for whatever remained of his honor. Conflict ran amok in his amber eyes as he shook his head.

“Please, sweet girl, whatever you do, don’t give me hope where I can’t follow.” He then let her go, getting up and making his way to the tent to turn in for the night.

Caelan in the meantime sighed out of frustration. She could feel her mind reprimanding herself. Getting this worried about a captive, hell the Adagium himself was ludicrous. She was doing the world a favor, turning in his sorry hide to the king to be dealt with. She’d have her freedom, and would finally stop running. Julian’s ghost wouldn’t be there anymore to haunt her. She’d be free of him at last. This, Caelan kept reminding herself, is why she decided to help Ardyn. Not because she felt remorse for him, but because at the end of the day, he was a means to an end who happened to be alright with the arrangement. Regardless of the rather intense conversation they had just now, and the past few nights, this whole experience was another transaction.

Looking up at the stars, Caelan could feel the anticipation grow. It would all be over soon come morning as it would over for him.

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #fanfic #fanfiction #ffxv #oc #original character #dawn of the future #ardyn lucis caelum #final fantasy 15 #if you want to be tagged in updates lemme know #thanks for reading

[sparrownatural]

Tagged by @trials-era-sam ilysm ana i'm sorry i'm the absolute worst at keeping in touch ;-;

Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better. (Oh boy 20 is a lot lol we’ll see)

Name: emilio (but i also go by sam or see)

Sign: pisces sun, venus in aries, scorpio dominant

Height: 4'11

Birthday: march 15th!!

Time: 2:53 a.m.

Favorite band/artists:��this is so hard for me to answer anymore bc i listen to almost entirely score music. some of my non-score artists that i like tho are nightwish, iamamiwhoami/ionnalee, emilie autumn, ethel cain, nicole dollanganger, jeff buckley, olafur arnalds, sufjan stevens, sleeping at last, red, kamelot, within temptation, anberlin...there's more that i'm forgetting, but those are the main ones that i listen to when i'm not listening to score music (which is literally almost never)

Last movie: j'ai tué ma mère (just watching it for my boy toy <3)

Last show: i've been rewatching the borgias and the cuphead show since season 2 of the latter just came out; i've been watching foundation with my sister and lycoris recoil with my friend lacie!!

What I post: this is a sam winchester blog first and foremost. then it's just a mad conglomeration of all the characters i love most in this godforsaken show

Last thing I googled: lol i genuinely don't remember and it wasn't even that long ago i used google; it probably had something to do with my writing tho.

Other blogs: @emiliosandozsequence (my main); @galatna (trauma blog; huge tw obviously); @askama (kidcore blog); @marydoriarussellpdf (multimuse rp blog that i'm still setting up); @thesparrowseriespdf (emilio sandoz rp blog that i'm revamping)

Do I get asks: lol no. i wish i got them more often tbh.

Following: 1,503

Average hours of sleep: 5-6, which sounds like a lot, but for me that's the equivalent of like 2-3. i need at least 10 hours of sleep to be functional.

Instruments: violin, piano, and i consider my voice an instrument so that too.

What I’m wearing: very large black nightgown that has a bunch of words that are related to sleep on it

Dream job: linguist, astronomer, theoretical physicist, vocalnologist, anthropologist, actress, author....there's so many things i'd like to study or do, but i'm stuck in this disabled body.

Dream trip: japan!! i want to go SO BAD, but i want to go for like a month or two so i can really see the whole country. either that or disney world again; i want to go back so fucking bad even tho they've fucked it up since i was last there.

Nationality: usa 🤢 but i'm half puerto rican

Favorite songs: at present?? video tape by olafur arnalds; unpunishable by ethel cain; harvester by ionnalee; a hero falls by michael abels

Last book I read: the sparrow lmao; still suck in this rut of trying to finish annotating this bad boy

3 fiction universes I’d live in: the foundation universe, RAKHAT, and...middle earth.

tagging: anyone that wants to!! you can say i tagged you!!

#this was fun <3 #emilio.txt