#mini grand piano

[recallthelovelywords]

I moved, to an apartment across town. I miss the mini-grand piano, from my mother’s house. I’m aware of its significance, as a coping mechanism etc, but didn’t think I would get withdrawal symptoms…

#piano #minigrand #i moved #me #tumblr #i miss it #I miss the piano #mini grand piano #pianist #plz #art #music

[mal-educado]

Family Room - Traditional Family Room An illustration of a sizable, traditional, open-concept family room with a marble floor, a music section, white walls, a stone fireplace, and no television.

#mini crystal chandelier #grand piano #windows #family room #white river hardwoods #pendant chandelier

[esouliie]

– TEARS ON THE GRAND PIANO

– pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader (MINI SERIES)

– synopsis: moving on from the only person you’ve ever loved is proving to be hard… so hard that hiring an escort seems to be the only way forward.

– warnings: poor dialogue lmao but my excuse is that it was written a while ago, offensive language, word count: 3K

– Prologue | Chapter 1

13TH NOVEMBER 2022

You were pretty sure your face was melting off with the way your cheeks burned against your hands. Your jaw ached tremendously from clenching, each muscle protesting against the pressure of the emotions welling up inside you.

The room felt like a pressure cooker, and the silence was the ever-tightening lid that threatened to explode at any moment.

The weight of awaiting unspoken words hung in the air, creating a palpable discomfort that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. Seconds stretched into minutes, each passing moment intensifying the unease.

Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this standoff… of sorts.

Joining the Avengers four years ago wasn't anything you would’ve expected for yourself. Raised as a normal teenage girl in a quiet suburban household, with a normal life planned ahead of you, you never imagined that your destiny would lead you to the extraordinary world of superheroes.

Tony Stark, the genius behind the Iron Man suit, approached you with an offer that would change your life forever. He explained that the world needed new heroes, and your unique abilities were the missing piece they had been searching for. After some hesitation and contemplation, you decided to accept the invitation to join the team.

And here you are - now a grown woman - sitting across from the same Tony Stark. His jaw was slack, eyes wide to an almost inhuman degree. For a man who had faced gods, aliens, and powerful foes, the revelation seemed to have caught even the Iron Man off guard.

To put it shortly, he was stunned. Such an uncharacteristic reaction from the philanthropist.

“What did you just say?” He finally managed to answer.

This was supposed to be easy; simple enough to not stress you even more, but you should've known that nothing comes easy with this man.

“I think you heard me, Tony.”

“Yeah, but I never thought I’d hear that… come out of your mouth.” He slaps his hand against the chair excitedly. He was both amused and bewildered by the unexpected turn of events.

“I mean, everyone thought you were a virgin, with the lack of relationships over the years, but I guess not, huh?”

His laughter irritated you no doubt.

Despite being twenty-three years old, your teammates, in their misguided assumptions, were certain you were a virgin. It was a label that stuck, fuelled by your shyness about your personal life. No one ever dared to inquire about your relationship status, but subtle concerns were shared between them, creating an unspoken curiosity.

In reality, your heart harboured a secret love for someone you couldn't have – a person who existed in the realms of impossibility. It was a love that had silently grown over the years, nurtured in the shadows of silent words and unfulfilled desires.

“So, you want me to set you up with an escort?” He asks, humour still evident in his voice.

You nod, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation washing over you. Your eyes briefly met his before retreating to your fidgeting hands, the room still echoing with his laughter.

“That’s fine. But first, I need you to answer some questions.” Tony continues, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

Confusion creeps across your face as you tilt your head, thrown off course by his unexpected shift in seriousness.

“First of all, why?” He inquires, leaning back in his chair and studying your reaction.

You hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much you should reveal. "It's complicated. There was someone… but the feelings weren’t mutual, and it’s time to move on. I thought this might be a way to help me do that."

Tony raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Feelings, huh? Well, I'm all ears. Spill the beans. Who's the lucky guy?"

You sigh again, knowing that this part might complicate things. “It’s not something … I just don’t think-,” You don’t want to tell him, it feels all too frightening, “I can’t say.”

He hums lowly, observing your obviously nervous state.

“Okay. What’s your preference?”

Your confusion grows.

He sighs, “Male or female?”

He asks so simply whereas you’re caught off guard.

Your ears burn in embarrassment as the implication dawns on you. You knew this would have to be spoken about at some point, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

“Uh, I t-think, female.”

Tony can't help but wear a sly grin. “So not a virgin and not into dudes. No wonder you shot Sam down.”

The mention of Sam makes you cringe, recalling your first encounter with the man who couldn’t take a hint that you were definitely not interested.

You attempt to regain your composure before warning Tony to be serious, but he interrupts your process, seemingly already moved on from your revelation.

“Anyways, what else?”

Again, you’re stumbling over how to answer but he saves you this time, deciding to lighten up on the teasing.

“I’m talking physically. What would you want her to look like? Tall, short, blonde, brunette, redhead?” His hands move drastically as if sculpting an imaginary figure in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was serious. "Does it matter?"

“Well, yeah, escorts are usually pricey, especially the ones I use to hire so… you might as well fuck someone you’re actually attracted to.”

He was right. It would cost a fortune for a high-end escort. Given your public image and the constant scrutiny you faced, you realise that anyone you brought into your private space would need to be discreet and accustomed to the world of celebrities. There would be NDAs to sign, and security measures to consider, and the whole process seemed more complex than you had initially thought.

“Assuming you want an escort for that?”

His words interrupt your thinking. He had a knack for understanding things without needing them explicitly stated. It was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that he guessed your intention to hire an escort without you saying it out loud was both impressive and mildly embarrassing.

Your blush deepens.

“I’d prefer her to be taller than me, brunette, green eyes.”

His grin slips slightly, realisation sinking in. Your preference seemed to match the appearance of a certain witch.

“Simple enough.”

“And also, old- actually, she can be my age, but I’d prefer an older woman.” You add, unknowingly unravelling another layer of mystery to your request.

Tony hums.

“Preferably not American, maybe like European, or…”

It couldn’t get any better for the man. The quick panic in your eyes, let alone the twitch in your lip, helped finalise his theory.

But ever the optimistic, there’s no way he’d caught that slip.

There are a lot of tall, brunette Europeans in America.

Surely.

He rests his head in his hand, feigning false nonchalance, “Sounds familiar.”

Oh.

Wanda Maximoff arrived in America with a heavy heart and a troubled past. The scars of Sokovia and the loss of her brother, Pietro, weighed on her soul, but she was determined to forge a new life. She was haunted by the memories of experimentation and the pain that had been inflicted upon her throughout her life. The scars, both physical and emotional, served as a constant reminder of the darkness she had endured. Yet, as she stepped onto American soil, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Hope for a new life.

Almost every day, she participated in training sessions to harness and control her formidable powers. Vision, an android and fellow Avenger, became her mentor and confidant. Together, they worked tirelessly to channel her abilities, turning the chaos into controlled strength.

Her dark eyeliner that used to coat her waterline thinned with each passing day. Her green eyes, now a striking contrast against her porcelain skin, began to reflect not only her pain but also the resilience that lay within. Her long, brunette locks remained a constant, gracefully cascading down her back.

The Sokovian Accords had torn her away from your life, but Steve Rogers, the man with an unyielding sense of justice, had set her free. She had been detained, left to rot in chains and a power-disabling device. But now, she lived in the shadows, on the run from those who sought to control her immense power.

The next time you saw her was on the battlefield in Wakanda. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the Wakandan landscape, and you found yourself standing amidst the chaos of the battlefield. The air was charged with tension, tangible electricity that mirrored the clash between the forces before you. Amid the chaos, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, moving with purpose and grace.

Wanda. The woman you once knew as a fiery teenager, full of anger and confusion, had transformed into someone entirely new. Her crimson hair, cut to a length that framed her face, caught the fading sunlight as she weaved through the battlefield.

The old Wanda you knew was gone and yet she was still as beautiful. Still the same Wanda you were in love with.

Even so, she was your best friend.

The age difference never seemed to matter; you clicked in a way that transcended space and time. To you, her friendship was everything. And yet, as life unfolded, so did the unexpected twist of emotions that left you utterly devoted to her.

But your love was unrequited. She fell for Vision. The robot born from the mind stone, the same stone that granted Wanda her powers. They clicked instantly.

Unrequited love can be a heavy burden, and you carried it silently, painfully. From a distance, you observed the deep connection between Wanda and Vision strum stronger. Your heart ached, knowing that you never stood a chance against the android who had become the love of her life.

Her space and time.

And then came Westview. It hit you like a tidal wave of sorrow. Wanda, now known as The Scarlet Witch, had created an alternate reality in an attempt to find solace, to build a life where she could have everything she ever wanted. It was a bittersweet revelation - she had her family, but it was a fragile illusion. Life had decided to take everything good from this woman and that included her husband and twin boys.

Learning about their fates left you shattered. It had been a while since you cried over Wanda. You felt so much for the witch. To you, she deserved the universe but for all the time you knew her, she had only experienced pain.

It was a heartbreaking paradox - the one who could rewrite reality couldn't escape her own suffering.

Tony moves closer to you, breaking you out of your trance.

“You could always look for her.” His hand hovers over yours, unsure.

“No, I couldn’t,” You whisper gently, afraid your voice will betray you, “I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t say anything as he moves back to his original position, battling with himself whether to accept your defeat or encourage you to fight for love.

“Okay. I'll look into it.” He answers shortly.

“Thank you, Tony.”

You really do appreciate his help. He has always been there for you, a fun yet steady presence in your life. He had guided you through tough times in your career and offered a shoulder to cry on when needed. In many ways, he was more than just a friend – he was like an older brother.

“It won’t take long for me to find your woman. So make sure you’re ready for the best night of your life.” He concludes by flicking his tongue grossly between his pointer and middle finger.

But he’ll always be a pig.

--

15TH DECEMBER 2022

A few weeks later, you found yourself in the penthouse suite of one of Tony’s infamous drunk hotel purchases- The Ritz. He had managed to find an escort that fit your preferences within the same night, but due to conflicting schedules and multiple anxiety attacks, you pushed the date back as much as you could.

Tony helped you understand all the unspoken rules of high-end escort services. For high-risk clients, such as yourself, it’s imperative that a fake name is given.

Monica Dunn.

Tony said you didn’t look like a Monica but you didn’t care. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t an escort’s job to care what name their clients use.

Afterwards, NDAs are usually signed, despite the use of a false identity, just in case the escort discovered who the clients were, and sold the information to the press.

This has happened before. You giggle, remembering the scandalous article about Tony and his rendezvous with an escort that gladly divulged a particular fetish of his.

Five minutes before the agreed meeting time, the front desk rings, informing you that your guest had checked in and was on her way up.

You pace around the front door, nursing on the almost empty glass of wine. Soft music playing through the TV just outside the large conversation pit, a sunken enclave surrounded by plush, velvety sofas and cushions in hues of deep royal blue and silver. The pit was nestled in the centre of the room, creating a cosy and intimate atmosphere.

Perfect for tonight.

The suite’s architecture was utterly beautiful. The walls were adorned with gilded frames housing masterpieces of renowned artists, and the floors were covered in an expanse of soft, ivory carpet that allowed you to sink your feet into its embrace. A grand chandelier, dripping with crystal prisms, hung majestically above the conversation pit, casting a warm and gentle glow over the entire space.

Residing in front of the large glass windows, a grand piano stood proudly, its polished surface reflecting the glimmering chandelier above. Your eyes were drawn to it, a majestic instrument that seemed to beckon you with its silent invitation. Unable to resist its allure, you gracefully make your way towards it. The rich scent of aged wood and varnish envelopes you. Fingers delicately glide over the smooth keys, feeling the cool touch beneath.

You sit upon the plush bench, posture adjusting with the grace of a seasoned pianist. You begin to play, letting your fingers dance effortlessly across the keys. The room fills with an enchanting melody, each note resonating through the space. Lost in the music, you start to hum along, your voice blending seamlessly with the piano's tune.

The same tune you wrote for Wanda all those years ago. It's been a while since you’ve played this song. You’re not even sure why you’re playing it now.

The keys dip. A sombre note rings true. The music swirls into a reflection of your emotions, a silent expression of the feelings you had kept hidden for so long and how they remained unbound.

“That’s beautiful.” A voice broke through the harmony, pulling you out of your musical reverie.

Startled, you turn to find her standing there, in all her glory.

And time ceases to exist.

She stands tall. The red hair that once defined her is now a rich, deep brown, still its usual thickness and tied into a high ponytail that exudes a casual confidence. Bangs frame her sculpted face as a gloss stains her lips. She looks different. You can't help but marvel at the maturity that now graces her features. There's a certain grace to the lines that weren't there before, a subtle testimony to the experiences that have shaped her.

The room becomes a backdrop to the flood of memories rushing through your mind. The air is thick with festering emotions as you look up at her, trying to process the unexpected reunion. It's been years since you last saw her, and the wounds of her departure still linger.

You don’t say anything but she does. She steps closer, eyes flickering over your stilled hands on the instrument.

She laughs, and familiarity strikes as she recalls the tune you were playing. "Is that the song you were writing that night?"

The question hangs in the air, summoning memories of the last time you shared your dreams and melodies, the things that mean most to you. She was your muse and you had bared your soul to her in your music. And now you’re trapped between the resonating notes of the piano and the echoes of your past.

For a moment, you struggle to maintain composure. Indifference projected as a firm shield, a sort of defence against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"It's just a tune." You reply nonchalantly, trying to downplay the significance of the moment.

With that, her gaze intensifies, a shadow of uncertainty rushes across her features.

You can't help but feel a sense of curiosity mixed with a tinge of unease.

All this time that has passed and now she decides to come find you.

You don’t understand why she’s here.

She goes to speak but you interrupt her. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

She’s lost for words, not even fully sure herself.

“I came to see you.”

Wanda sees the strain on your face. She didn’t have to read your mind to know you were in turmoil. Without much thought, she gently cradles your face in her hands, thumbs tracing delicately over your lips, and you lean into the touch, momentarily forgetting everything that’s occurred over the last few years.

This doesn’t last long. The warmth of her touch turns cold, and you stand up abruptly, the piano bench skirting backwards loudly. Anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Don’t touch me.”

You don’t expect it to hurt as you see the pain your words cause her.  

“Seriously, Wanda. Why are you here?” You continue, voice thick with led.

Wanda sighs, unwilling to lie to you anymore. “Tony sent me.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #cr:@florietas

[ginnsbaker]

it's just dinner

Summary: Another installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to the follow up; You and Wanda enjoy a quiet dinner at your home--or so you thought

Word count: 3k | Tags: Fluff, Some Blood (lol), Wanda being clumsy

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: There will be one more installment after this. It's been really fun writing something so wholesome :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

Two hours earlier

Every attempt at a date with Wanda Maximoff is a tragicomic misadventure.

The first attempt was promising: a quaint dinner at a hidden gem of a restaurant. Yet, on that very day, your apartment's plumbing decided to rebel, turning your living space into a mini lake. You remember Wanda's sympathetic chuckle on the phone, suggesting a rain check. The next date was set, but it still wasn’t in the cards. Just as you were picking out a shirt, Wanda’s phone buzzed. An urgent mission. She sent an apologetic message, punctuated with a little red-faced emoji. “Next time,” she promised.

Your third attempt seemed foolproof. A coffee date, something short and sweet. Yet, irony dripped as you got a call from the dental clinic. An emergency extraction that couldn't wait. As you gloved up, you couldn’t help but think of the universe’s odd sense of humor.

(Maybe it's trying to send a message, and you've been too stubborn to listen.)

But resilience is your middle name. So, here's attempt number four.

A cozy dinner and a film at your place. Simple. No grand expectations. If, by chance, this date still falls through, at least you're already home. Your bed awaits, just steps away, to provide solace for any potential disappointments.

As the clock ticks closer to the agreed-upon time, you arrange the table, blending classic dinnerware with contemporary accents. Wine glasses shimmer under the subdued lights, their elegant curves catching the candle's dance. The gentle melodies of a classical piano accompany the inviting aroma of the goulash, creating a setting that might just captivate Wanda's heart.

Not that you’re already aiming for her heart. That'd be rushing things, wouldn't it? Only a week ago, you and Wanda were each wary of the other—you, daunted by her powers, and her, intimidated by, well, you.

A mere dentist.

In your bedroom, you've changed outfits multiple times, finally choosing one that finds the right balance between casual and slightly dressy. Every detail matters, from the watch you're wearing to the cologne you've spritzed.

Sure, there's a hint of anxiety, but above all, you're buzzing with anticipation. You can picture it—Wanda's appreciative smile as she digs into the goulash, both of you snuggled up during the movie, and then chatting about everything and nothing as you both start to get sleepy.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You see a message from Wanda: “On my way. Can't wait!” accompanied by a heart emoji. Your spirits rise instantly. You send a silent plea to every god out there who’s watching, hoping for no more mishaps tonight.

Time seems to move both too slow and too fast. Every tiny noise from outside makes you jump, wondering if it's her arrival. You go over your preparations one more time: the temperature of the goulash, the volume of the music, the soft glow of the candles.

A soft knock sounds at your door. The moment has arrived. Your heart races as you move to answer it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You open the door, and there she stands—Wanda Maximoff, perhaps the most powerful Avenger, clad in skin-tight jeans, a long coat over her shoulders and the same nervous smile you’re wearing right now.

“Hi,” she murmurs softly, that European lilt making it sound almost musical.

“Hey, Wanda,” your voice quivers ever so slightly. “Please, come in.”

She steps inside, and you instinctively reach out, helping her slip off the long coat. The soft fabric is warm from her body heat, and you can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you suggest with a gesture towards the plush sofa. She gracefully obliges, her eyes scanning the room.

She takes a moment, head tilted ever so slightly, her nose twitching as it picks up on the scent wafting from the kitchen. “Is that... goulash I smell?” she says, eyes twinkling in delight.

A pleased chuckle escapes you. “Someone's got a good nose.”

In the midst of tweaking the table's placements, you're painfully conscious of every inch of space between you and her. Wanda Maximoff, right in your apartment, seated gracefully on your sofa. The room temperature is already set at the lowest, but you feel unexpectedly warm in your clothes. 

You take a few deep breaths. Center. Ground. Every preparation led to this moment.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you almost miss the soft rustling from the living room. Wanda's eyes are now fixed on the elegantly wrapped gift resting on your coffee table. The parchment paper, crinkled just right, holds a tag with her name in your neat handwriting.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “For me?” she asks, her finger running over her name on the tag.

“Uh, yes,” you stammer, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I thought...well, it's our first, you know, date... and I wanted to get you something.”

She gives you a soft, appreciative smile, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift. The sight of the Sokovian cookbook draws a genuine, surprised chuckle from her. “You really did your homework,” she teases.

“You're worth the effort,” the words slip out before you can reign them in, and suddenly the room feels a few degrees warmer. But Wanda doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems... pleased.

“The jasmine rice will be ready in just a few minutes,” you mention, as you drape the apron on a hook by the kitchen entrance. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It's just dinner. With Wanda Maximoff. No pressure.

You then make your way to join her on the sofa, deliberately choosing a spot that's comfortably distant. Not too close to be presumptuous, but not too far to seem distant. Or so you think.

However, Wanda doesn't let the spacing go unnoticed. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” she asks with a playful pout.

You blink, momentarily lost for words. “Oh, I just... thought I'd give you some space?”

Wanda smirks, tilting her head slightly, “You're sweet, but you can sit a bit closer if you'd like.”

Swallowing your nerves, you slide a tad bit closer, closing the gap. Now, your knees are almost touching. The proximity introduces you to more intricate details: the scent of her perfume, the subtle shadow on her lids, the faint tint on her lips.

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Much better, don't you think?”

You gulp, trying to swallow down your body’s reaction to her voice. “Yes,” you breathe out, attempting to find your bearings again. “Definitely better.”

“So,” Wanda starts, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “How does someone like you end up as a dentist?”

“Well, my dad was one. After high school, I honestly didn't have a clear path in mind.” You shrug, your gaze distant as you recollect. “It was kind of a 'fall into the family business' scenario.”

“But do you enjoy it? Being a dentist, I mean.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” you confess, a far-off look in your eyes. “I had other hobbies—gardening, painting. There was a time when I thought of diving into the arts.”

“But you didn't?”

You shake your head. “Practicality won over passion, I guess. Dentistry is stable, and I do like it.”

She studies you for a moment. “Do you ever regret it?”

You ponder for a second, thinking about all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. But then, your eyes find Wanda's, and a smile creeps onto your face. “Well, being a dentist did allow our paths to cross. So, in that sense, I can't really complain, can I?”

Wanda's cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, the faint blush enhancing her striking features.

You’re not entirely sure how you’ve survived so far on this date.

Clearing your throat to ease the building tension, you attempt to shift the topic. “Speaking of paths, how did you end up becoming an Avenger? If you don't mind me asking.”

Wanda's expression quickly darkens, and an immediate regret washes over you. You wish you could retract your question, hating the thought of being the one to bring such sadness to her eyes.

Wanda tells you her story with a distant look in her eyes, like she's replaying a bad dream. She tells you about the Battle of Sokovia, how she lost her twin brother in the midst of it, and how she felt totally alone afterward. With no family or close friends left, she ended up with the Avengers. At first it was a choice of convenience, but she soon started to think of them as her new family.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you say, not knowing what else to say. You’ve never experienced such pain and loss, especially with your parents and sister living in different states, leading their own lives.

“Thank you,” she whispers, the edges of her eyes glistening. “It's... difficult. Sometimes more than others.”

The soft beep of the rice cooker slices through the heavy atmosphere. You turn towards the kitchen, then back to Wanda, offering an apologetic smile. “Looks like the rice is ready,” you mention, almost sheepishly.

She laughs softly at your politeness and says, “Good. I’m starving.”

-

Wanda Maximoff has a big appetite.

This becomes amusingly clear when she polishes off her plate and shyly requests more rice, eventually consuming the entire portion you'd prepared for the evening. Honestly, you hadn't anticipated this outcome, especially since you weren't entirely sure how goulash was supposed to taste. But seeing Wanda devour nearly all of it not only boosts your confidence in your cooking but also in how the date is progressing.

Honestly, it's been ages since you've been on a date. You keep wracking your brain for topics, wondering if you're saying the right things. But thankfully, it's Wanda who takes the lead, her inquiries steering the chat in various directions. And each time she poses a question, that unique Sokovian accent of hers tugs at you, almost hypnotic. With every word, every soft-spoken syllable, you can feel yourself being drawn closer into Wanda's magnetic pull. It's both exhilarating and terrifying—mostly because you're not sure if you ever want to resist.

Just as you're about to suggest some movies to watch, Wanda's phone rings. You watch her facial expression shift slightly as she answers, her tone professional and measured. “I understand. I'll be right there in an hour,” she says, ending the call and turning to you with a regretful look.

At least you both got through a nice meal. Still, you’re a little disappointed.

“It's the compound. I've got to head back soon. Not an urgent situation, but...” Wanda trails off, her eyes reflecting her regret.

“How long do we have left together?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“About thirty minutes?” Wanda estimates. She then glances at the aftermath of your dinner, “Let me help you clean up.”

“You really don't have to.”

“It's easy. I can just use my powers,” she says, beaming a little proudly.

“I’m intrigued,” you say.

The idea of seeing her powers up close excites you, but as she begins to wave her hand, intending to levitate the dishes, something goes wrong. A misdirected wave of her magic, perhaps due to her eyes being trained on you as she watches your every reaction, causes a sharp knife from the counter to fly towards you. You only realize what's happening when you feel a sting on your arm.

Blood starts to seep through your shirt and Wanda's eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god, I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry,” she stammers, her face pale.

You look down, trying to assess the damage. It's not too deep, but it's definitely more than a scratch.

“Don't worry, it was just an accident,” you reassure her, but the sharp pain suggests you might need medical attention.

Wanda immediately wraps your wound with a clean towel and offers to take you to the hospital. It's quite the unexpected turn for your first date, and as the evening winds down with you in a hospital room, getting stitches, you can't help but chuckle at the situation.

Wanda's face, however, is a picture of raw concern, which to be frank, you find endearing, albeit in a dire context. She stays uncharacteristically silent, her expressive eyes darting between the cut on your arm and the sterile surroundings of the hospital room.

“Hey,” you break the silence, “Talk to me.”

“You know... maybe it's best if we don't see each other again,” she begins, hesitantly. “It's just the first date, and I've already sent you to the hospital.”

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

And you’ve yet to kiss her. 

(You really, really want to.)

“You can't break up with me,” you blurt out.

She looks bewildered, “Why not?”

“Because,” you smirk, wincing a bit as the doctor tightens a stitch, “We're not together. Yet. And if this is your way of getting out of a second date, you're going to have to try harder.”

She looks at you, searching your face as if trying to discern whether you're joking or not. But you're serious. Deadly serious. 

Then an idea comes to her. “Fine, then I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What–”

“I mean, if we're doing this, it's so I can properly end—”

“No,” you say, your smile widening, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wanda Maximoff, I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

Her expression grows more solemn, her tone somber. “You need to understand. Being with me is nowhere near normal. I’m dangerous. Everything around me, everything I deal with—it's all dangerous.”

The smile doesn’t leave your lips. “I understand,” you say, “But I still refuse to be your girlfriend.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Ask me again on our second date,” you suggest, nodding appreciatively at the doctor to subtly hint it's time for him to leave, as he’s been watching you both fall into each other a bit too long now.

“And I can’t have you blasting ‘Lips of an Angel’ throughout the compound if we call it quits now, can I?” 

Wanda's eyes widen in horror, her hands flying to her face. “How did you even know about that?”

“Vision,” you chuckle. At this point, you’ve totally lost it for this girl. “He sent me a message, thanking me on behalf of Natasha for finally getting you to switch off that track.”

Wanda groans, her face still partially hidden behind her hands. “I can't believe he did that. I'm never going to hear the end of it now.”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, leaning in closer. “I think it’s adorable.”

Still, Wanda remains quiet, and even though she’s the one who can read minds, you can hear just how loud her thoughts are. Gently, you grasp her hand and stand, pulling her up with you.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ve been patched up,” you note, motioning to your arm. “I’d rather not end our date inside a hospital. Come on.”

-

You insist on driving her back to the compound, despite Wanda's deep concern that you’d be able to handle a stick shift given your recent injury. However, after teasingly reminding her that she’s technically "in debt" for the unintentional knife incident, she finally gives in.

You really just don’t want the night to end with her simply walking away.

And while the two of you bickered over the technicality that Wanda can't really break up with you, there's an underlying fear in you that perhaps this might be the last time you see her.

The drive ends up being a quick one, and in just fifteen minutes, you’re pulling up the compound’s spacious driveway.

Both of you sit there for what seems like an eternity, neither willing to make the first move. Your heart races, beating loudly in your chest, as you keep stealing glances at Wanda, trying to read her expression.

“I... um... had a good time tonight, despite the… yeah,” you stammer out, trying to fill the silence. “Thank you for being there, Wanda.”

She nods, lips parting as if she's about to say something but doesn't. “Thank you for the meal and the cookbook,” she finally says, her voice soft, almost fragile. “And I'm really sorry about your arm.”

“You're welcome, Wanda,” you reply, your heart heavy in your chest.

She offers a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and opens the car door. For a fleeting second, the thought of pulling her back crosses your mind, but you squash it down, not wanting to push your luck. As she steps out, you hope for a 'see you soon' or even just a casual 'later'. But nothing comes. And with a quiet thud, the door closes behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mentally kicking yourself for letting Wanda do the dishes. Maybe none of this would've happened, and she might still be looking forward to another date. You're so lost in your ‘what-ifs’ that you almost miss the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the passenger door swings open, and before you can react, Wanda is back inside. She leans over the center console, gently cradling your face with one hand and pulling you into a soft, tentative kiss. 

It's over in a heartbeat, leaving you both breathless.

She pulls away slightly, cheeks flushed, and her eyes brighter. “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she admits.

You smile, still in shock from the unexpected moment. “I'm glad you didn't,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

Even if Wanda had thrown every knife in the room at you, it would still rank as the best date ever.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader

[multifandomgirl08]

Bittersweet - C.L. #16

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: Going to the Annual Formula 1 Gala seemed like a good idea. But once you get there you realize that you don't feel like you belong there. A certain Monégasque driver changes your mind.

Warning(s): Google Translate French, assumptions of infidelity (Not in relation to Charles)

A/N: This is taken from this request by Anon. I finished this one up in a few days thanks to how detailed the prompt was. I loved exploring the atmosphere of the party in this one. It's set in the same universe as Mini Verstappen because I couldn't help myself.

Words: 1.5k

→ Next Part Bittersweet Masterlist

When you got the invite to the Formula 1 Gala that the FIA held at the end of the season, you thought your uncle was being a little too generous. He knew that Charles Leclerc was your favorite driver, but going to a gala where all of the drivers on the grid would be was a lot.

Your uncle had paid for your dress and the hotel during your stay in Monaco. You had been looking forward to the party because you would be sharing the same space with Charles and would get to experience something that no other normal F1 fan would get to part take in. You were sure that the party would be fun, being able to talk to all of the big wigs in the sport, and the food would no doubt be exceptional.

You were already dressed for the party when the town car picked you up from your hotel. Entering the party made you feel like you were entering a completely different world. There were people here who had more money than they probably knew what to do with.

You found your assigned seat watching everyone around you mingle, talk, and drink. As your eyes swept over the room spotting driver after driver, none of them Charles. Your eyes didn’t even travel all the way to the bar before you felt lightheaded.

The expensive crystal glasses reflected off the equally dazzling jewelry all of the women were wearing. You can’t help shifting in your spot in the room, taking a filled glass with champagne, hoping that the liquid will help you feel less out of place.

You saw Sebastian Vettel there conversing with a small group of people, a woman hanging off both of his tux-covered arms. Wasn’t he married? It seemed like most of the drivers that you saw all of whom were in relationships, were flirting with people who weren’t their partners.

Like, Max Verstappen. Who was talking to a tall leggy brunette, who was very much not his wife. Max’s wife was well-loved by the fans. You couldn’t imagine the woman he loves and affectionately called, his lioness, to be okay with him flirting with some random woman.

You took your bag off the chair, disappearing into the corner of the room towards the grand piano, hoping to get away from it all. You lean your head against the wall letting out a deep breath. You have never felt more out of place than you do now. The money, the clothes. It just made your everyday life seem so… boring compared to all of this.

You move to pull out your phone hoping that it’ll make the time pass by faster before you can leave at an acceptable time. Stay through the meal, walk around the room once more, get a drink from the bar just to be seen by the other guests, and then go back to the hotel. You were just about to open one of your favorite apps when you heard a familiar voice that had never sounded clearer.

“You know, it’s a party,” You hear from in front of you. “You are supposed to have fun.”

You looked up to see him, Charles Leclerc holding a tumbler filled with expensive amber liquor. You look him up and down, immediately letting your eyes fall to the floor. He wouldn’t want to talk to you, he’s just like all of the other people in the room. He is too enamored in his own life, enjoying the party for how he sees everything. It’s normal to him, to see all of the drivers shamelessly flirting with people who aren’t their partners.

“I’m not going to leave you, I promise.” You hear him say. You still don’t look up.

“I’ve been watching you from the bar.” You let your eyes move up to his hands. He has them out towards you. “Since you came into the room.” He says quieter as if you’re exchanging secrets.

“You are too beautiful to be by yourself.” Lies. Every word of it. You tell yourself. But you want to enjoy talking with Charles, you have been a fan of him since you got into watching Formula 1.

“Maybe I like being by myself.” You reply, meeting his gaze. His piercing blue-green eyes gave you a smile you had seen a dozen times before. But it was never for you before now.

“We can escape together then.” He offers you a hand that you’re hesitant to take. You let him lead you away from the crowd up to one of the balconies above the room.

“You’re first time at the Gala?” He asked placing his glass down after sitting on the chair across from the one you were in.

“And the last.” You say honestly.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Is it?” He asked.

You give him a shrug. This is his world, you’re just living in it for the night.

“I’m not going to let you spend your one and only time here unhappy.” He removed his jacket placing it on the chair. He slips his hand in yours pulling you over to the balcony to look over the party.

“See Seb down there.” He points over to Sebastian, who is still talking to a group of people. The women have left him. “He’s starting a new charity, so earlier he was flirting with those two women who are now by the bar for a big donation to his charity.”

You take in Charles’ words still not fully believing him. You knew that Sebastian could be a flirt, you had seen the interviews from when he was still driving before he retired.

“And Max.” He pointed down to Verstappen who was talking with Christian Horner and Daniel Ricciardo. You had seen him earlier talking to a woman, you thought at first glance that he was flirting with her, but now he seemed more interested in his phone than talking to anyone.

“His wife just had a baby, and although he didn’t want to come, his wife asked him to because they met at one of these events. I overheard her begging him, please, for me Max, earlier.” He gave his impression of Max's wife. It wasn’t half bad from the short clip that you heard of her voice.

You felt your shoulders relax a little and a small smile broke through. You knew a little about Max, he was introverted and cared about his family. Being here made it seem like all of the drivers only cared about the luxuries that came with the job of driving in F1. Not that, for some of them it was just an unavoidable part of the sport.

“We’re not all bad.” He said. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll spend the rest of the night trying to prove you wrong.”

“I don’t want to waste your time.” Although it was sweet that Charles wanted to prove you wrong when it came to your impression of the drivers, you still didn’t feel like you belonged at this party. Everyone here looked like they belonged, you didn’t even feel like you were worth the designer shoes that were on your feet. He should leave you there and go back downstairs. Talk with Carlos, Pierre, or one of the team sponsors that was down there.

“Trust me, amour. Spending time with you would be worth more to me than you could know.” He gave you his signature smile, soft, warm, and inviting.

He held his arm out to you, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes before your smile broke through. He was too charming for his own good. You took his arm and let him lead you downstairs back to the party.

You had spent the rest of the evening together, drinking expensive champagne, eating the best food that Monaco had to offer, and even slow danced with Charles to the cellos and violins that were playing in the background.

At the end of the night, Charles walked you to the town car that you came in, you thanked him for spending the evening with you, “My pleasure.” he replied before kissing your hand.

“Bonne nuit, chérie.” He closed the door after you got into the car. You glanced up at him silently hoping that you would get to see him again.

You leaned back into the seat of the town car as it drove away from the party. You looked out the window in the dark Monaco night, you saw all of the yachts on the harbor. It made you think that Charles had changed your perspective on the way that you viewed the drivers on the grid.

They were just people living their lives, more glamorous in some ways. But that didn’t mean that they had all changed their core values.

Charles was just as down to earth, caring, and considerate as he had been from the first day that you had found out who he was. He hadn’t changed one bit. He had made you feel like you were the most important person at the gala tonight.

You would go back to your life, but would forever cherish the few moments that you got with Charles tonight. You wanted to see him again, even if it was only to steal a few selfish moments of his time.

Translation(s):

Bonne nuit, chérie. - Goodnight, sweetheart.

End A/N: Link here with some additional information if you are interested in reading a whole series based on this.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 one shot #bittersweet mini series

[adore-laur]

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theatre in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you had sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their life. 

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it was his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out — guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received was mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A small mic was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him, whistles and encouraging hollers thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry greeted with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theatre. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applauding and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said: Ask me when again you're sober!"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you actually were pregnant, albeit you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid. 

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful" — he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows — "and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because his early twenties testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting several tables behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup — it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he actually was paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!" 

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It'd been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "Didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theatre dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room on the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier. 

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theatre."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. Went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees.

Fishnet tights.

His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind" — you snapped the waistband of his fishnets — "when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "Have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and gesturing his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you sat.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to where both of your knees fit on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down— shit, slow down," he said quickly, hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "Need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not gonna ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eyes, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, skin slapping as the headboard l creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm gonna get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh. 

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he praised in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that... that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already had taken one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and ducked under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand to your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? Seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had got in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not gonna kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascade from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation — trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lip. Kissing him never got old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born and required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #rendezvous #adore-laur

[hometoursandotherstuff]

OMG, this large church, converted in 2015 in Grand Haven, MI has been turned into a mansion. It's like no other church conversion that we've seen. 3bds, 6ba, $2,595,900.

Check this out. Is this not gorgeous?

I think that the reason why all of these converted churches are coming on the market is b/c they don't consider the long winters. The high ceiling open spaces have to be a bitch to heat, and the costs outrageous, when you're still freezing your butt off.

The kitchen is a stunner. Look at the ceiling. There are probably high energy costs, as well.

Small dining area with a bar in the corner. They removed some of the stained glass windows and put in clear glass to brighten it up.

And, this is the formal dining area. Note the architectural feature dividing the space.

Love these gates.

Nice corner to relax in.

At the top of the stairs is a mini fridge for drinks, snacks, etc.

Primary bedroom on the main level has a fireplace and sitting area.

Look at the fancy entrance to the en-suite.

Very large bath with glass block features.

There's also a walk-in closet.

Another piano in the loft. It's a large space, there's still room to spare.

Stairs to the lower level family room.

Another cozy sitting area in the basement.

Pool table, golf simulator, and wet bar.

The wine cellar.

The covered pool and patio are on the roof.

Pull the car right into the rec room. It has its own fireplace.

Two other bedrooms are down here.

This one has an en-suite.

8,712 sq. ft. lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/600-Washington-Ave-Grand-Haven-MI-49417/149741922_zpid/

#converted church #church conversion #houses #house tours #home tour

[simmergetic]

Santa's 'Lil Wonderland

DOWNLOAD AVAILABLE NOW

Happy Holidays! I am so excited to announce that Santa's 'Lil Wonderland is officially uploaded! I put a lot of time and effort into this build and had so much fun creating it. I hope you have just as much fun playing it. Hope you all have a great holiday season. Don't hesitate to PM me if you have any questions!

A few notes...

-this lot has been play tested with no issues found

-it is recommended you clear your cache and thumbnails before attempting to open this lot as it requires a lot of memory

-this lot is free of custom content

-requires ALL expansions including Holiday Stuff

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Santa’s Retreat

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire… Jack Frost nipping at your nose.”

As the freezing temperatures set in over the quaint village, many seek shelter and comfort in Santa’s Retreat in hopes of easing holiday stress. Some will get warm by the fireplace while listening to sounds of the piano, while others might head upstairs for a massage from the village’s best (and only) massage therapist around or sweat out all those Christmas cookies in the hot ‘n toasty sauna. After some much needed relaxation, why not head downstairs and have a good ‘ole toast with those they love around the Christmas tree, perhaps make some hot soup in the mini bar, touch up on piano skills or just simply relax and unwind on the couch with a good movie? No matter who you are, Santa’s Retreat is sure to offer a warm and inviting atmosphere to ring in the holiday cheer and spirit!

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Santa’s Toy Store & Workshop

“Our finest gifts we bring, Pa rum pum pum pum”

What will the kids do on this little holiday trip, you might ask? Fear not, as Santa’s Toy Store and Workshop will be sure to keep the kids entertained for hours! Planes… trains… and automobiles…. Oh my! While parents and grandparents shop around for that one special gift, the kids can let their imagination run wild at the train table, zoom around remote controlled hot rods and helicopters or perhaps find something fun in one of the toy chests! And for parents who are just as much kids like their own, they can head upstairs to Santa’s Workshop and learn how to make their own toys… oh, the simoleons that will be saved this Christmas! And don’t forget to check out those picturesque views on the rooftop… capture that special moment and paint the perfect holiday picture. Just don’t freeze up there… brrrr. It’s a lil chilly!

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Santa’s Clubhouse (more pictures coming soon)

“And they never let poor Rudolph Join in any reindeer games”

Join in any reindeer games, you say? No one needs to feel left out… as there are certainly no shortage of games here at Santa’s Clubhouse! This central area of the village is a great place to seek refuge, catch up with friends and family with chats by the fire and play timeless games upstairs. So… how about a coffee, nice game of chess by the fireplace and a holiday movie afterwards? Sounds quite delightful. What’s that? You’ve got more simoleons than you know what to do with? Hmm… I know! How about a game of poker? Just don’t lose all your money before enjoying the other festive activities this wonderland’s got to offer!

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Cheers! Bar & Bistro

“And later we’ll have some pumpkin pie… And we’ll do some caroling”

Pop! Sizzle! Delish! What better way to ring in the holiday than at Cheers Bar & Bistro? Right next store from Santa’s Clubhouse you’ll find a grand hallway and entrance to this cozy restaurant nestled up on a hill overlooking the entire village. Grab some holiday cheer inspired drinks at the bar and dine downstairs for or make your way upstairs to the family style dining room complete with a fireplace and covered outdoor dining! Whether you’re in it for the drinks or just want a little date night with the honey, Cheers is sure to leave everyone full of tasty food and fun!

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Holiday Stop ‘N Shop (pictures coming soon)

“Joy to the world, my shopping’s done…”

So you made it to Santa’s Wonderland… but you just realized… it’s so cold and you didn’t bring your winter clothes…. One stop by The Holiday Stop ‘N Shop will surely fix that! This clothing store features an indoor/outdoor shopping experience with more great views of the village and skating rink. In addition there’s magazines and cologne for sale to make this lil shopping trip well worth it!

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FLOOR PLAN

ADDITIONAL PICTURES

DOWNLOAD LINK - CLICK BELOW

https://simsfileshare.net/download/4345193/

Enjoy! And Happy Holidays to you and your family. <3

#sims 2 #ts2 download #holiday build #happy holidays #ts2 lots

[spookyghouly]

goodevening ghesties

i luckily tested negative for covid this morning meaning i was FINALLY free from quarantine isolation just in time to go to the ghost concert!! this is my 5th ritual in as many years and it may have been the best (though, you never forget your first 😉). here’s my ghost kia forum night 1 concert breakdown of best moments, in no particular order!

cumulus and aurora ghoulettes twirling each other, blowing kisses to each other, stroking each other’s cheeks. this one was for the dykes <3

popia, drawing out the ending to mary on a cross: “are you guys still saying cross?? I want you to say MARIJUANA!!!!!”

ABSOLUTION F U C K E D LIVE!!!!

Respite ALSO fucked like the BASS IN THE BEGINNING?? I FELT IT IN MY CHEST IN MY LUNGS, I THINK IT MADE MY HEART BEAT DIFFERENTLY. SOUL RESET. I almost cried when copia left the stage thinking about how this is probably my last time seeing him (I completely forgot the encore existed I was too swept up in It All ™ you know?)

Dancing Skeletons. They better release the film because I want to study it to learn their dance.

they had two stages set up, the normal one up front and a mini set up in the back with a grand piano and several chairs. more on that in a sec.

Seestor gave papa a boxing robe and gloves for “fighting” his way back from the small stage to the main stage. the crowd started barking at him to hype him up like he was actually about to enter a boxing ring lmaoo

when he got to the back stage papa said it was so nice to see the people in the back “in the stevie wonder seats” lmaoooo

then he said he wanted to bite us???? and had us all snarl at him like we were biting dogs. deranged behavior. love him.

okay no my true fav moment was the orchestral arrangement of if you have ghosts. it put me in such a throwback to the first ghost ritual I attended in london when he took time to introduce each band member just as ghoul. 5 years later and on another continent, it is an even more beautiful arrangement of the song. The band members were 2 cellists and a grand piano player—I couldn’t tell if the woman to the far right was playing a theremin or vocalizing—if anyone knows can you tell me?

the skeletons picked papa up at the stage right mini stage and had him like crowd surf on top of them all the way back to center stage it was AWESOME?? I hope they got a cool overhead shot of it for the recording.

they definitely knew we were all anxious he was dying tonight and there were many moments where papa faked us out that he was dying. after the first or second song he made a comment like “ah we are quickly approaching the end of this era” and later when he told us to “not be sad it’s almost over, you’ve had a good fucking time and then it must end” I couldn’t help but think he was talking about more than just the concert

on a related note, when the skeletons first came out in twenties they circled papa and I think it was a deliberate fake out/homage to when he ascended in mexico city last year when the nuns circled him.

met many delightful ppl giving away handmade bracelets, stickers, and trinkets, as well as someone who had scooped up a bunch of mummy dust bucks from the confetti gun and was passing them out by the exit 🥰💜 u people made my day

anyway here’s that haul:

this has been the update from new plushia at the forum, goodnight folks!

#the band ghost #popia #aurora ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #tobias forge #ghost band #ghost bc #papa iv #re imperatour #kia forum #damn it darcy

[hilziger]

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: 𝓢𝓘𝓝𝓝𝓔𝓡𝓢 + 𝓢𝓐𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓢 (fucktober horror nights ft Cody Rhodes )

1:18  ───|──────── 2:53

|◁              II             ▷|

∞                 ↺

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

WARNINGS: [ sexual acts done in a church, thick black reader, sunshine x grumpy relationship trope, pet names, praise and shaming kink, slutty asf !, (sexual nun costume (?) explicit themes, degrading kink.]

Taglist[ @juceynightmare @southerngirl41 @technicallymiaa comment to be added (:] shout out to technicallymiaa cause this is inspired by a devante swing imagine she wrote which was SO MF GOOD OMFG.

❝ TAKE YOU DOWN ANOTHER LEVEL

GOT YOU DANCIN WITH THE DEVIL.❞

The streets felt like they were spinning as the young girl strolled the breezy fall sidewalk drunkenly as she finally reached the back steps of the chapel. Her feet were aching in pain and her head pounded with the pink Whitney she consumed as she leaned against the door to catch her breathe for a moment.

“ugh I wished Cody could've came with me” she pouted to herself, she went to this Halloween party alone due to this last-minute trunk or treat Cody had to host for the kids at his stepfather's Catholic church, she felt slightly upset but not for long as she had a pretty decent time at this function. She opened the back door walked inside and up three small steps before her eyes met the back of Cody's head and body seated at the piano.

The sounds of her kitten heels echoed throughout the chapel as she slowly approached him wrapping her arms around the male's slightly buffed frame. “Had fun?” he asked his eyes not coming off a program pamphlet he must have made earlier today, the women drunkenly giggled before kissing his cheek lightly, “Once the drinks started flowing yes, but it would've been so much better with you there codes” her speech was slurred before she removed herself from him placing her small purse ontop of the Grand piano.

“Well you know I have my duties here darling, I wasn't really expecting this to come up but you know my mom and how she loves throwing me into things” he took his visions off the paper for a brief second as he looked at the women he proudly called his girlfriend, she looked captivating as usual but something caused codys heart to pause. A nun costume? Your Brown luminescent skin glistened under the stage light from the cocoa butter and body lava she frequently put on.

the gown stopped just above her knees, her hair was in a slick back puff but the hood still draped her head, and lastly, her glossy, sticky black lip gloss coated her plumped lips, Cody was lost for words as Y/n went inside her mini purse to pull out a cherry jolly rancher to suck on, all he could think was sinister, wicked things he wanted to do to her in this insane costume.

A nun?

A nun?

Nun?

NUN

Nun…..?!

“Hellloooo?? Earth to Cody” She waved her hands in his face snapping him out of his mini trance, his eyes examined her briefly before arching his eyebrow. “ care to explain your outfit?” she spun and twirled lazily around him giggling before she stood in between his legs, “well I wore it as a joke for you if you would've came but you know how that ended up” she shrugged before returning over to the piano leaning against it.

Cody rolled his eyes feeling the annoyance creep into him as she continued her games with him, he knew she played too much but to this degree? Walking in here at this hour of the night mocking nuns and sisters? He wanted to be mad but his body burned and his dick swelled up at the thought of bending you over relentlessly and taking you so sinfully in the middle of the moonlit church.

“You think you’re so amusing huh?” He taunted slowly getting up and walking towards her to trap her body against the piano. Her black acrylic nails grabbed lightly at Cody’s baby pink satin tie, looking up at him both innocently yet lustfully as if she were non verbally asking to get fucked right then and there, “ shamefully I’ve sorta wanted to dress as a cute nun nothing more” a sly smirk plastered her face feeling the grip Cody had on her waist slightly get tighter, “you and your games Y/n.. if you wanted to get fucked in the chapel like a whore why didn’t you say so?”.

That statement alone forced her to pull his tie attaching her plumped lips to him, the jolly rancher swapped between the two lovers' mouths shrinking in size as they passionately made out. Cody hungrily and desperately bit on her bottom lip as he slithered his palm to her throat gripping her gently before pulling away.

His blue orbs scanned her before ripping the black lace off her dripping arousal, Y/n's cheeks burned with cynosure as she was left exposed to Cody, the sounds of him unbuckling his pants burned her with anticipation as he hiked her body up while he pumped his length in his hand. the evident veins popping as she turned her head away being forced to look at him as his hand held her chin. “ don't worry you'll get what you want in just a minute bunny” his tip graced your tight pink opening, your wetness instantly coating Cody’s tip as she softly moaned at the teasing before without warning shoving all of his 8 inches into her tight arousal.

She gasped as she watched him loosen his tie taking it off, a evil smirk graced Cody’s lips fully bottoming into her womb hearing a relaxed groan from him . “ look at you, already pathetic for me, you stupid little nun”. THRUST, Cody slammed his hips into yours after that statement, your eyes big as saucers trying to hold on as Cody thrusted hardly into you again getting a quick porn like moan out of you.

“Codes wait-“ he wasted no time thrusting against Y/n once more, before smashing his lips onto hers and beginning to rhythmically thrust into you getting nothing but loud exotic moans, Cody smiled against his lover's lips moaning sounds of his own trailing his hand up her costume more pulling out her breasts as he fondled with her right nipple.

“You're taking me so good bunny.. Fuck you're so tight” he gritted through his teeth, all you could do was breathlessly whimper and moan under Cody's Sinful punishing, her black lip gloss was now smeared across her lips as she watched him slowly place his tie around her neck, pulling it down to slowly tighten it to produce a comforting choking sensation. “ f-fuck.. Cody please” you whimpered before he wrapped the satin around his fist bringing your small head up by pulling it.

His eyes looked dark as if Cody wasn't in his body anymore, Y/n gulped as she looked him dead in his eyes, her puffy lips pouted as he slowed his strokes down smirking down at her, “What's the matter baby? Im going too slow for your liking? My slut wants to be fucked harder?” the feeling of his dick began to speed up in strokes, and she whimpered rolling her eyes slightly biting her bottom lip.

“S-Shit..! You fuck me so good Cody!” she moaned out taking his now strong-hitting strokes as he continuously hit her G-spot, her mascara ran down her face, her hood was now off, and her edges slightly rising up as Cody fucked her into overstimulation. Cody’s thrust started to pick up sloppily, digging himself as deep as he could watching her stomach begin to bulge out as he dummy fucked her on top of the piano.

“my pretty bunny.. F-fuck you're gonna make me cum” Her walls clenched down on him gradually as she was close to her peak as well, squeals and begs escaped from her as if felt Cody was fucking all the sins out of her viscously, and her tears streamed down her face in pain and pleasure, finally screaming out in a gut-busting orgasm.

“Fuck im cumming! Oh yes, Cody!!” a series of screams and praises emitted from her as her squirt shot out of her like a water gun, it hit Cody on the chest soaking herself and him up.

A door opened from the front of the chapel revealing what seemed to be the Priest, Cody’s stepfather, “ Hey Codes I been looking for-” you moaned loudly before Cody sloppily kissed your lips, your eyes made contact with the Priest having a naughty smirk on your face pulling away from Cody.

“Why hello Father”

#wwe imagines #wwe raw #cody rhodes #cody rhodes smut #smut #fucktoberhorrornights

[esouliie]

– TEARS ON THE GRAND PIANO

– pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader (MINI SERIES)

– synopsis: moving on from the only person you’ve ever loved is proving to be hard… so hard that hiring an escort seems to be the only way forward.

– warnings: major angst, offensive language, eventual smut. (18+)

Hello hello, welcome! I’m very excited to be announce that i’m writing this mini series. This has been under works for about almost all of 2023. I rlly loved the idea and wanted to make sure I did the characters and the plot justice, as well as having to adapt to changes, as I can’t seem to ever stick to the script haha.

The prologue and chapter 1 are finished yay! I am currently working on chapter 2 as well as browsing new ideas for chapter 3 (hint: these chapters are most likely where the 18+ tag will come into play.) I don’t have a posting schedule so I shall leave that up to you guys if this story is well received!

I want to thank you guys for following and reading my works. I’d love to hear any ideas, questions if anything seems confusing or literally anything about this universe hehe. Without further ado, please enjoy and happy reading!

– Prologue

– Chapter 1

– Chapter 2

to be continued…

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #cr: @florietas

[bowiesawizardmoony]

when i’m sad i like to think about regulus and james being happily married with their son harry and they live in a cute cottage that is full of so much love and warmth and happiness that regulus’ childhood home was so lacking in. everyone in that house who lives there and visits knowns they are loved, knows it is a safe place, and know they are supported for anything they do. they have a mini grand piano that is in their living room that regulus likes to play, and their a large kitchen that james cooks all the recipes his parents taught him, their are bookshelves in every room full of every book you can imagine and journals that regulus has filled up, there is art hung on the walls that harry made through the years probably framed, there are small notes littering random tables and desks that they all leave other as reminders, on the bedside table in jegulus’ room there is a picture frame with paper rings in it along with their wedding photo. it is a house full of the love they created with each other. it’s a home. and it makes me so happy.

#james potter #dead gay wizards #maurders era #sirius black #my idiots #remus lupin #james loves regulus #jegulus #regulus black #regulus loves james #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fluff #jegulus raising harry #jegulus deserves their happy ending #james x regulus #regulus needs a hug #incorrect marauders quotes #jegulus headcanon #jegulus hc #mauraders #maurauders fanfic #marauders headcanon

[liaromancewriter]

Miss Me While You Sleep (1/?)

Premise: When a stalker targets pop star Lucy Chen, her manager insists on hiring Tim Bradford as her shadow. But she’s not making it easy for her new bodyguard.

Fandom: The Rookie Ship: Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen (Chenford) Rating: Teen. Category: Bodyguard AU Words: 1,215

A/N: This story is inspired by a hurt/comfort prompt sent by @cariantha. This fic got away from me and I decided to make it a mini series (the prompt will be featured in part 2). I'm using Bodyguard AU prompts 2 & 3 from @creativepromptsforwriting. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills.

Tim Bradford stood military straight inside the entrance of the luxury condo in Wilshire. The black suit, white shirt and gray tie that was his uniform fit comfortably on his muscular frame.

Whatever misgivings he had about his new job, his employer knew the importance of their bodyguards — correction, security professionals — matching their clientele’s vibe. And that meant paying for custom suits, streetwear and whatever else, designed by an up-and-coming LA designer.

Tim checked his watch. If he’d known it would take this long to convince a spoiled pop star she needed protection from an obsessed stalker, he’d have brought popcorn and a gun magazine to pass the time.

He scanned the soaring ceilings, expensive but minimalist furnishings and the grand piano facing the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the LA skyline. The walls held a mix of dreamy watercolors, dramatic black and white photographs, framed magazine covers and commemorative gold records.

Crossing his arms in front, he strolled towards the glass wall and watched clouds drift lazily across sunny skies outside. And tried to ignore the loud voices from the room off to his right.

It was hard as his new client insisted on screaming at the top of her lungs, using the voice that had catapulted her from a nobody on a reality television singing competition to a household name to full effect.

Read the rest on AO3

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fanfic #chenford fanfiction #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim bradford x lucy chen #tim x lucy #chenford fanfics #the rookie fanfiction #bodyguard au

[celticcrossanon]

Hi Celta, thought you would like to take a break and read some charming royal news. The Daily Mail has an interesting article about Queen Mary's doll house that's going to go on display ("A home fit for a (miniature) Queen! Look inside dolls' house boasting library with tiny books, scaled-down grand piano with working keys and mini Crown Jewels with real gems that was given to Queen Mary 100 years ago"). Quite astonishing the level of craftsmanship that went into making this doll house!

Hi Nonny,

What a lovely thing to write about. I will have to look it up. I love looking at dolls houses. Some of them are miniature works of art.

[cityof2morrow]

Bella Brand: Bella's Beauties 001

Published: 11-7-2023 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY “Inspired by the wealth of Bella Goth lore from the Sims/SimCity franchises (aka the “simsverse”), the Bella Brand Series includes more than a dozen sets and 230+ new business-themed items. Lore suggests that the wealth/influence of the Gilman, Crumplebottom, Bachelor, and Goth families increases considerably under Mortimer and Bella Goth, especially the latter. So, this series imagines what a prestigious Bella-based brand might look like…” From health and beauty products to novelty items, Bella’s Beauties (SimCity Social, Playfish/Maxis, 2012) caters to SimCity’s social and creative sims – who also happen to love the Bella Brand. A percentage of proceeds go to the Bella Beneficiary Fund. "Bella’s Secret Garden products soothe the body and calm the mind. There’s nothing more soothing than an overpriced tube of lotion, available in endless love, forbidden fantasy, love spell, pear glace, strawberry champagne, and vanilla glace."

DETAILS Requires ALL EPs/SPs. You need Mesh Set 001 (Simmons, 2023) and the Display Counter (BellasSecret_Counter_Somedaythesun)from the TS2 Maxis Match Lingerie Store Set (SomedayTheSun, 2023) – these items are required for all textures to display in-game. The counter uses recolors from the Bosenklavier Model B grand piano (Bon Voyage EP). Find recolors for the counter interior in the Bella Brand: Retail Floor Set (Simmons, 2023). Recolors may include swatches for items in other Bella Brand sets such as signs, packages, cosmetics, etc. Objects in Sims 2 are limited to two recolorable parts, so not all items are recolorable in the same way. Find additional recolors for Bella Brand sets on this site under #ts2recolors, #co2recolors, and #co2bellabrand.

ITEMS Bella’s Beauties Display 001 (356 poly) – 5 slots plus additional slot(s) for tall deco or objects you need to hide Bella’s Beauties Display 002 (330 poly) – place over display 001, 5 slots plus additional slot(s) for tall deco or objects you need to hide Bella’s Beauties Mini Display (232 poly) Bella’s Beauties Display Deco (708 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden Lotion (~568 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden QuickShower Mist (~210 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden Body Cream (~229 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden Moisturizer (~866 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden Skin Masque (550 poly) Bella’s Secret Garden Fresh Formula (644 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA

Functional Cosmetic/Hygiene Products Items can be used from any surface or a sim’s inventory and will boost hygiene/comfort. After several uses (12 by default), the product will need to be replaced. When using cosmetics from a sim’s inventory, wait until the sims finishes using the first item BEFORE selecting the second one. Otherwise, the second object will be removed from the inventory. Both the object and plug-in files are needed for each item to work properly in-game. Number of uses and motive gain are tuneable in simPE (BCONS: 0x00 = number of uses, 0x002 = hygiene, 0x03 = comfort). Some Assembly Required Display 002 has 7 slots and the 6th and 7th are actually below the shelf itself (I needed it to be this way for one of my own projects). The easiest way to build the cosmetics without having to worry about slots 6 and 7 is to: 1) Turn “move objects” on. 2) Place Display 001 and fill it with items. 3) Position the Display Deco (the arch) on the same tile. 4) Place Display 002 on the same tile and fill the first 5 slots with items. See the picture for reference. If you’re display isn’t up against a wall, you might want to have Display 001 and Display 002 facing in different directions to prevent traffic jams among browsing customers. CREDITS No copyright infringement intended. All trademarks belong to their respective owners. CCA = Creative Commons Attribution. Thanks: @catherinetcjd, @gayars, @gummilutt, @haziewhims, @kashmiresims (Rach’), @somedaythesun, whoward, Easy Shine Removal Kit (PF Forest, 2023), Reducing GUIDs/OBJs Tutorial (HugeLunatic, 2022), Sketchfab and Blender Communities. Sources: SEE CREDITS (ALT).

#sims2cc #ts2cc #ts2downloads #co2bellabrand

[justforbooks]

Marcello Gandini’s cars were made to stop the traffic. The Italian designer, who has died aged 85, created supercars for the super-rich, and such exotic machines as Lamborghini’s Miura and Countach, Alfa Romeo’s Montreal and Maserati’s Khamsin were guaranteed to draw crowds of admirers when parked outside the grand hotels of Monaco, Rome or London.

As the chief designer of the Bertone company, he also worked at the more modest end of the market, creating the little Autobianchi A112 and the original version of the Volkswagen Polo, and restyling the British Mini for the Italian Innocenti firm. For those wanting a miniature supercar, there was Fiat’s two-seater X1/9, a striking little wedge with its four-cylinder engine mounted transversely behind the cockpit, mimicking the location of the Miura’s mighty V12.

Gandini designed for the space age, renouncing the smooth curves that defined the aesthetic principles of his predecessors. To him the Miura, which first appeared in 1966 and which many consider the most breathtakingly beautiful car ever made, was a flawed compromise. “The audacity was made acceptable by the sweetness, by the flow of the design,” he said. “Nobody rejected the Miura. There was immediate consensus. Even more than it deserved. I was at the beginning of my career and I didn’t have enough autonomy to be able to do exactly what I wanted.”

The Countach, altogether more extreme, even outlandish, was closer to his ideal on its unveiling in 1974. Sightings on the streets of London gave rise to the rumour that the width of its huge tyres made it the only car in the world that could not be wheel-clamped by parking wardens.

“For me,” Gandini said, “it represented the dream. It took years before it was totally accepted. Some people liked it straight away, but most, including journalists, took a long time. So much so that it remained in production for 17 years.”

Born in Turin, Gandini was the son of a pharmacist who, after the arrival of five children, had abandoned his first career as a classical composer and conductor. It was hoped that Marcello would become a concert pianist. There were piano lessons from the age of four, continued when he went to a Salesian boarding school at eight. But as a child he dreamed of cars and when, during his days as a student, his parents gave him the money to buy a Latin textbook, instead he spent it on a book called Motori Endotermici (Endothermic Engines) by Dante Giacosa, the great designer of the highly successful prewar Fiat 500 “Topolino”and its 1950s successor, the ubiquitous Nuova 500. His course was set.

At the age of 25, Gandini approached the celebrated Turin coachbuilder Nuccio Bertone, who gave him a job in the design studio. Soon he would take over as the firm’s chief designer from the prolific Giorgetto Giugiaro, who had drawn up the Maserati Ghibli and various handsome Alfa Romeos before leaving to start his own business.

Sometimes Gandini seemed to exist in the realm of the “concept car”, prototypes that explored new ideas without restraint, displayed at motor shows in much the way that Parisian couturiers produce extreme designs for the catwalk. The four seats of the unique Lamborghini Marzal, for instance, were upholstered in silver leather, while its bodywork and fittings made use of a hexagonal motif. The famous vertically opening “scissor doors” of the Countach were first seen at the 1968 Paris Motor Show on Alfa Romeo’s one-off Carabo.

Gandini was said to be responsible for around 200 designs. Among them were two mid-engined classics of the 1970s, Ferrari’s Dino 308 GT4 and the Lancia Stratos. The dramatically wedge-shaped Lancia won the world rally championship three years in a row between 1974-76 in the hands of Sandro Munari and Bjorn Waldegaard, while Munari also won the Monte Carlo Rally three times in a Stratos.

A car, Gandini believed, was not a work of art – “but it has in common with art the ability to generate emotions”. He played down the significance of his innovations. “I didn’t invent penicillin,” he said. “These are just ideas that came to me.” After leaving Bertone in 1980 to set up his own studio, he worked on many projects, including industrial and interior design.

The father who had wanted him to become a classical pianist finally overcame his disappointment at Marcello’s choice of profession when he was taken for his first ride in a Miura. “Only then,” his son said, “did he understand that I knew how to make other notes sound – those of engines.”

Gandini is survived by his wife, Claudia, with whom he lived in a restored abbey at the foot of Monte Musinè, outside Turin, their son and daughter, Marco and Marzia, and three grandchildren, Lucrezia, Costanza and Pietro.

🔔 Marcello Gandini, car designer, born 26 August 1938; died 13 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #marcello gandini #in memoriam