#vogue living au
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Troye Sivan | Vogue Living AU
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Hello! I love your writing. Can I request an actress y/n story of her doing the Vogue 73 questions interview and some of the questions being cute stuff about her relationship with Tom and the interviewer going viral on social media.
73 Questions with Vogue || Tom Blyth x actress!reader
A/n: this was so fun to write, thank u for the request anon :)
Warnings: none
Wc: 606
Tom Blyth x actress!reader au masterlist
Divider by @pommecita
You step into the grand foyer of your opulent home, adorned with exquisite art and gleaming chandeliers. Vogue’s cameras follow your every move as you prepare to answer their 73 questions. The air is charged with anticipation as fans worldwide await a glimpse into your glamorous life.
"Mind your step," you caution the interviewer, noting the subtle elevation that often catches people off guard. "Oh, thanks," he chuckles in response to your warning, and a reciprocal grin plays on your lips. The interviewer then dives in, initiating the conversation with, "What's your morning routine like?"
You flash a radiant smile, “I start my day with a strong cup of coffee and a walk with Tchai.” As you speak, you gently caress your spoodle, cozily curled up on the sofa.
"Tchai is so adorable! How long have you had him?" The interviewer questions, giving your dog an affectionate pat. "I've had Tchai since I started dating my partner Tom, it was actually his gift to me for our one year," you share with a smile, recalling the moment Tom surprised you with the dog of your dreams.
As you stroll through the expansive living room, the camera captures the elegance that surrounds you. A question about your career follows, and you share anecdotes from your latest film.
“I actually took this from the set of tbosas, it’s a photograph of my character and Coriolanus that was on Coryo’s bedside table during the first scenes,” You show the camera the photo, your grin reflecting the fond memories associated with it.
“Texting, calling, or FaceTiming?” The interviewer probes further. “FaceTiming for sure! I’m too slack most of the time to text, so I'd rather FaceTime people because then I can see their reactions,” you share, casting a glance over your shoulder as you navigate through your hallway, adorned with captivating artworks.
The interviewer then delves into a more personal inquiry, asking, “How do you handle the pressures of fame?” You take a contemplative pause, “I’ve learned to prioritize my well-being and maintain a grounded perspective. Surrounding myself with genuine people helps.”
Entering your plush home office, you take pride in showcasing the awards adorning the shelves. The conversation seamlessly transitions to your personal life, and a subtle smile graces your lips.
“Congratulations on reaching your three-year anniversary with Tom!” The interviewer beams, and you reciprocate, “Thank you!” “Could you share a bit more about your relationship with Tom?” the interviewer inquires.
Your eyes light up, “Tom is incredible. We support each other’s dreams and share a deep connection. He’s my biggest cheerleader. And I'm genuinely grateful to have someone like him in my life.”
The camera follows you into the stylish kitchen, where you casually pour a glass of water. “What’s the key to a successful relationship?” He asks. “Communication, trust, and a lot of laughter,” you reply, your tone sincere.
The resonant creak of the front door interrupts the air, and a familiar voice follows, causing an immediate and infectious smile to light up your face. “Oh, there’s Tom right now,” You chuckle setting the glass down before you make your way to the foyer, the camera effortlessly trailing your every move.
“Hi sweetheart,” Tom removes his sunglasses, drawing you close for a tender kiss before casting a warm smile at the camera. “Go, continue your interview,” He encourages, his eyes filled with affection, as you return the grin and redirect your attention to the ongoing interview.
Moving towards the sunlit terrace, you reveal breathtaking views. The interviewer probes further, "How do you maintain a work-life balance?" You chuckle, turning your gaze towards the camera, "It's a juggling act, but quality time with loved ones is non-negotiable," You point out.
As you ascend the staircase, your eyes meet Tom, engrossed in play with Tchai on the couch. A soft giggle escapes your lips, captured by the camera momentarily fixated on the fleeting connection.
"What's something people don't know about you?" You ponder on the question before replying, "I'm allergic to most flowers," You reveal as a soft chuckle leaves your lips. "Really? I wouldn't have known," The interviewer comments, surprised at you revelation.
"Oh, absolutely! During the filming of tbosas, I couldn't escape the constant sneezing, and my eyes were continuously watery, especially when shooting scenes outdoors in the district. We had to take a lot of takes with those scenes" you confess with a sheepish smile, casually walking backward while maintaining a steady gaze with the camera.
The tour continues through a luxurious walk-in closet, filled with designer attire. "Favorite fashion trend right now?" You gesture to your chic outfit, "Effortless elegance. Comfort meets style."
"What are your top artists that you listen to?" You walk over to your vinyl player, hands flickering through the vinyl records. "That's a tough once since I listen to a wide range of music. But I think I'd have to say my top three would be Olivia Rodrigo, The Neighbourhood, and the Smiths," You smile, picking out the 'Louder than bombs' vinyl and playing 'back to the old house'
"This is actually Tom and I's favourite song from the Smiths," You reveal with a grin. "You seem to have quite a collection of hats, care to share some light about the meaning behind your huge collection?" The interviewer points to a wall where about 20 cowboy hats were hung up.
"Funny story actually, these are hats that Tom and I have either taken, or were given from the set of Billy the Kid." You pick up Tom's cowboy hat, "Those who have watched the series, which you definitely should, would recognise this hat to be Billy's," You showcase the hat to the camera.
"This one I was gifted to by the director," You point to a white hat, "And these ones are from other cast members like Daniel, Alex, Ryan, and a few others," You gesture to the others.
A sudden knock at the door causes you to look at the door where Tom peaks his head around, the camera zooming onto him as he grins. "I made some iced chai's, your with oat milk" He walks in, handing you yours and one for the interviewer, "Awe, thanks babe," You gratefully smile at him.
"Yeah, thank you Tom!" The guy smiles at Tom who smiles warmly before leaving. You take a sip and let out a satisfied sigh from the cold beverage. "Mhm, this iced chai is delicious! Is this something you drink often?"
"Oh I love everything and anything chai. That's why I named my dog tchai cause I love it so much," You chuckle, "Do you usually have it with oat milk?" The interviewer asks as you hum, "I'm lactose intolerant so I drink oat milk,"
“Oh I see, I can tell Tom is very thoughtful, what’s your favourite trait that he has?” He asks a difficult question, “You can’t make me choose, I love everything about him!” You giggle.
“Okay, okay, sorry just say one that comes to mind then,” He chuckles, “hmm, I love the little things he does like putting medicine and a cup of water on my bedside table when I’m sick, buying chocolate for me when he knows I’m not having the best day, braiding my hair when I’m in my office doing work because it de-stresses me.”
“He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for,” You smile like a schoolgirl thinking about him. As the interview concludes, you step into the sunlight, the epitome of success and poise.
The Vogue 73 questions interview becomes an internet sensation, captivating audiences worldwide. Your fans celebrate not just the actress but the genuine, relatable person behind the glamour.
In the days that follow, headlines laud your openness and authenticity. Your relationship with Tom Blyth becomes a the talk of the internet once again. The internet buzzes with admiration, turning the Vogue interview into a timeless moment in your career.
#fanfiction#tom blyth#tom blyth x you#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth fluff#tom blyth x actress!reader#olivia rodrigo#vogue#social media#actress!reader#actress au#boyfriend!tom blyth#tom#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus x reader#tbosas imagine#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#tbosas x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#billy the kid#coriolanus snow angst#coryo snow#young president snow
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opposites attract - jude bellingham insta au.
quick sum: in which golden retriever energy jude bellingham tries to shoot his shot with black cat energy y/n. quickly realizing how determined and just sassy she is...
psa🗣️: HIII! this was supposed to be uploaded last week but i got so sidetracked i couldn't finish so here it is! fav insta au i've written tbh, so i hope you all enjoy! 🤍
fc: bella ramirez | pics: pinterest and youtube!
ynusername
liked by: judebellingham, jamalmusiala, yourbestfriend, hudabeauty, others.
ynusername: when in doubt, go with the mini skirt 😛
comments:
username: when in doubt, go take pictures at parking garage! got it!
user283: you are so UGH
username28: i’ve watched the movie like 10x by now. so obsessed with you 😣
↪️ judebellingham: same
user982: in yn we trust! 🙏
yourbestfriend: face card is insane so so so pretty 🫦
username395: you were so badass in your new movie!! legit can't stop watching!!
user953: outfit and skirt are SERVINGGG
user29321: haven't seen such a role as influential and that fits with someone so much xx
username193: ur so black cat energy in your latest interview, yn not giving any f's around here!!
--- ꔫ ---
ynusername added to their stories!
judebellingham sent a reply to your story!
↪️ shall we be on the lookout for this latest roll?? 👀
↪️ yourreply: not anytime soon
↪️ can we get a sneak peek? or would that be too much?
↪️ yourreply: i'm sorry and you are?
↪️ well this is awkward...
↪️ yourreply: mhm...
--- ꔫ ---
spottedcelebrity
liked by: ynusername, judebellingham, user392, username32094, user384, rubendias, popculture, vogue, time, hollywoodnow, others!
spottedcelebrity: we can't get enough of her! she has stolen and broken the hearts of many! passionate and driven to her career, find out more about the new 'it girl', @ynusername, in our 8pm show live tonight! stay tuned for more...
comments:
user8594: THE YN? don't play with us.
username759: its the fact she turned down jacob elordi...
judebellingham: 🤝
username33: so pretty... love how she is careless and her all the time!!
vogue: that's our girl!
user234: crazy how big she got in under a year...
↪️ username483: was telling this to someone the other day! the movie barely had any pr or announcing and now its a worldwide adaptation because of her!!
ynusername: thank u for having me! 🖤
popculture: we're going to ignore who commented? 👀
↪️ spottedcelebrity: stay tuned now guys... 👀
--- ꔫ ---
ynusername added to their stories!
judebellingham sent a reply to your story!
↪️ so beautiful! 😍😍
↪️ yourreply: no.
↪️ no?
↪️ yourreply: look at the second pic again xx
↪️ okay, i looked and what now? :))
seen one hour ago **
--- ꔫ ---
spottedcelebrity
liked by: ynusername, zendeya, jennaortega, username587, judebellingham, popculture, vogue, user342, others!
spottedcelebrity: and it's out, here's a small preview of our current 'it' girl's interview and photoshoot for the april campaign! acting, dating, fashion, and beauty, she gives us all her tips and iconic phrases! join us for our early show tomorrow at 11am!
comments:
username74: HER DRESS! RED IS DEF HER COLOR!
user95: 'i know my standards, and if he couldn't fit them, then that's on him' CAN WE PRASIE??
ynusername: oh my! million thank you's! 🖤
username294: is she real? like how? everyone at her feet and she could give less than a damn? need to be her so bad!
user85: she's such a bitch? wtf? how can you stan her?
↪️ username11: like she said... she's speaking her truth
↪️ user85: for who? herself? she needs a new personality
↪️ username349: people like you are the reason why she is like this. iconic and real.
judebellingham: wow! 😍
username854: jude?? when did this happen?
↪️ user09: he commented on her latest pic!!
↪️ username032: could you imagine? jude with y/n? IT COUPLE?
↪️ user281: black cat gf x golden retreiver bf? OH YEAH
--- ꔫ ---
judebellingham & adidasfootball
liked by: realmadrid, lucasvasquez, brahim, camavinga, ynusername, adidasfootball, marca, vinijr, rodrygoes, fedevalverdde, 4,984,213 others.
judebellingham: tested my inner actor 🫡🫡 adidas predators out now 🖤
comments:
username395: bro wants y/n to notice her so bad
user11: we know what you're doing jude...
lucasvasquez: hermano mejor dedicate al futbol 🤣
camavinga: ohhh now i see who your referring too 👀🫡
↪️ judebellingham: shhh 🤫🤫
↪️ usermane66: @ynusername come get your man
↪️ username13: frr he keeps throwing hints, take this man out his misery, and teach him how to act 😭😭
vinijr: amazing bro! 😍
username29: testing his inner y/n lets not lie to ourselves guys
user87: he looks so bf with this hoodie on!!
brahim: this guy yeah 🤣🤣
adidasfootball: BELLIGOLLL
fedevalverde: someone give him an oscar 🗣️
username45: him using the black heart instead of white says a whole bunch…
--- ꔫ ---
judebellingham added to their stories!
ynusername sent a reply to your story!
↪️ selfie is making up for the attempted ''acting''
↪️ judereply: is it now?
↪️ terrible choice of hat tho, especially with this weather 👎
↪️ judereply: i tried LMAOOO
↪️but guess what? choice of song is also making it up 🫡
↪️ judereply: there's no denying there... definitely on my mind 24/7
↪️ who me? or the song? better be the song because your acting is still stuck in my head 😐😕
↪️ judereply: when i think we're going somewhere... 🤣🤣
↪️ lol, going where? 😕😕
↪️ judereply: yk what im referring too, don’t be so oblivious especially after your latest role!! congratulations on that btw! such a phenomenal job once again! 🤍
↪️ it's very hard to dislike you when you're this sweet 😕 thank you jude!! 🖤🖤
↪️ judereply: why would you dislike me?
↪️ now why would i tell you that
--- ꔫ ---
ynusername
liked by: judebellingham, jamalmusiala, yourbestfriend, spottedcelebrity, username984, user44, ynrealestfan, vogue, username23, judefanandstan, and 2,459,898 others!
ynusername: lace top was giving so 2014 vibes
comments:
username984: how does she rock every single outfit? i'm jealous.
user44: need that hair and makeup comba ASAP!! been asking for it for about a year now :))
judebellingham: still haven't told me why you dislike me 😕😕
ynstan: jude having his notifs on for her post is so bf of him, give him a chance y/n, he has money and can take you shopping ;)
judebellingham liked this comment!
username56: need those pants, where are they from?
yourbestfriend: why don't i get photo creds?
↪️ ynusername: because you took my chocolate churro away. i don't play around with my food.
jamalmusiala: 😍😍
ynusername: thank you!! 🖤
user10: LMFAOOOO NOOOO THIS IS GETTING MESSYYY
judebellingham: oh hell no
judefan: we lost him ladies, his gentle heart doesn't deserve this 👎👎
--- ꔫ ---
judebellingham sent you a dm!
so you respond to jamal's comment and not mine?
yourreply: idkk he is kindaaa 🤭🔐
i've literally have been trying for months to get your attention
yourreply: have you ever thought of maybe just giving up?
really?? what is it going to take?
yourreply: i don't mean to be a debbie downer but what is it you exactly want for me... i can't just trust your word and go for it. it's not me and it hasn't ever been me. i have standards.
so then let me prove to you i can meet them. i promise i'm not like you think or hear. and that's coming from a man who also has standards and just truly interested in someone like you. is that so hard to believe?
yourreply: yes.
i'll prove them to you, you'll see....
--- ꔫ ---
judebellingham added to their stories!
ynusername sent a reply to your story!
really?
judereply: yes really.
why do i even try with you?
judereply: because after today you have a soft spot for me in that deep jade like from victorious little heart :))
who said anything about a soft spot??
judereply: i did. the eyes chico they never lie. and yours have so many specs of unread feelings and emotions i can stare into them all day.
creepy, don't you think?
judereply: you think everything is creepy when you literally love horror movies and the color black
because they prove points xx
judereply: just like rom-come and disney movies also proved points 😉
--- ꔫ ---
spottedcelebreity
liked by: judebellingham, judefan1, ynstanforeal, ynrealestfan, username44, user55, jennaortega, popculture, madridwags, jude22, ynfanbcyes, username76, user21, and 3,872,234 others!
spottedcelebrity: new couple on the block? we are soo into this recent pair, and it seems like they are mending our hearts little by little! y/n recently moved to spain for a movie role, could we see frequent hangouts between them? 👀
comments:
jude22: literally WHAT?
jennaortega: oh i am so into this... i just sit back and observe
username44: despite us seeing a cold and black-hearted y/n, some of the videos released showed her being soft and lovergirl with him!!
madridwags: new wag at the bernabeu soon? 👀
popculture: rumor has it they shared a kiss!
↪️ spottedcelebrity: stay tuned for our live 7pm show tonight!
username76: am i the only one who doesn't ship them?
↪️ user21: yes you are
judebellingham: made her dream date come true!! 🤍
ynrealestfan: when he remembers stuff said in interviews about you <<<
username55: jude attempting to soft launch with y/n while still being in the friendzone is so hilarious i can't 😭😭
--- ꔫ ---
yourusername added to their stories!
judebellingham sent a reply to your story!
can't get over how beautiful you are, it's not fair 😍😍
yourreply: life is not fair
my life is since you agreed on our shopping date 🤷♂️
yourreply: only agreed because you offered to buy, a win is a win 😍
yet you're wearing the dress i bought... and going out where to be exact??
yourreply: jealous darling? it's for me to know and well you to find out out. if i don't tell my mother where i go, why would i tell you?
because you kissed and held my hand? and replied to my dm btw!!
yourreply: ...
where are you? i'll meet you there
yourreply: sorry no men invited tonight, it's our girls night out xx
and you're wearing this red stunning short dress? yeah i'll find out where you are, think of me 😘😘
seen twenty minutes ago **
--- ꔫ ---
spottedcelebrity & vogue
liked by: judebellingham, vogue, popculture, ynstanfan, girlpro, username34, user89, username15, ynrealestfan, yourbestfriend, jennaortega, and others!
spottedcelebrity: despite the recent encounter the pair of y/n and jude faced, in y/n new vogue beauty secrets video, she talks about being single and not dating anytime soon... the first picture shows y/n before her fame took off a year ago, has she changed or hasn't changed one bit?
comments:
ynrealestfan: not changed one bit!
popculture: ohh? well this is certainly very interesting!!
judebellingham: LMAOOO, she told me to stay out the room while she filmed? 🤷♂️🤷♂️
↪️ camavinga: if you all could see the frown on his face right now as he types 🤣🤣
ynusername: oh that's not... guys don't believe that man, all men do is lie lie lie! 😊😊
↪️ judebellingham: not all of us! some of us actually want something serious, real and loving in our life 🤍
username03: jude's comment just proves everything for us...
user54: jude wanting everyone to know about them knowing damn well how our girl y/n is
username33: off topic but we finally got that look everyone was talking about!!
judestan: she is not good for him? she is so mean and bitchy like what?
ynstanfan: girl bye. wdym? i think your golden retriever energy footballer can't bag a baddie like y/n xx
user13: well now i don't know who to believe...
username98: is no one going to talk about how she was watching a rom-com (jude’s fav) and not her typically horror movies?
--- ꔫ ---
ynusername
liked by: judebellingham, camavinga, yourbestfriend, username05: user51, ynrealestfan, ynstanforlife, jennaortega, username38, judefan5, popculture, vogue, and 2,786,899 others!
ynusername: oh i look so sexy in here!! 🤭😩 dinner showcase before new movie “the accountant” releases! this role means so much and i can’t wait for you to see! 🖤
comments:
ynrealestfan: did not have to slay this hard on us 🤭
judebellingham: caption did not lie, prettiest rose in the whole city 🤍
username38: i NEED to be her…
yourbestfriend: when she’s caught and knows it
↪️ yourusername: STOP 😭
limited restriction! **
--- ꔫ ---
judebellingham
liked by: vinijr, gioreyna, jobebellingham, ynusername, yourbestfriend, fedevalverde, brahmin, vogue, spottedcelebrity, camavinga, aurelientchouameni, and 5,679,999 others!
judebellingham: grateful with life and for you. words can’t describe this immense feeling i have for you and your hard work. i love you so much my dereast y/n. i can’t wait to celebrate more moments like this with you 🖤🤍
comments:
ynusername: brb… crying because ilysm 😔🖤
↪️ judebellingham: i love you darling, never forget it xx
camavinga: only took you two three months when we already knew
gioreyna: literally HOW?
jobebellingham: run when you can y/n
↪️ ynusername: trust me i tried but this one is not so bad
↪️ judebellingham: this one is crazy after i spoiled you again…
username79: jude you deserve the world, come to me
user20: can’t believe how he BAGGED y/n
judefan22: so happy for our girl!
yourbestfriend: we lost her ladies
↪️ ynusername: i’m still here babes 😭😭
ynrealestfan: these pictures?? can we talk about how he has good angles?? 😩
juderealestfan: she issss sooooooo gorgeoussss 🫦🫦
spottedcelebrity: congratulations! 🧡
--- ꔫ ---
ynusername
liked by: judebellingham, jennaortega, zendeya, gioreyna, yourbestfriend, vinijr, madridwags, spottedcelebrity, vogue, hbomovies, hudabeauty, camavinga, fedevalverde, brahim, and 6,459,653 others!
ynusername: life lately 🖤 (p.s. no one mess with my baby. i love him very much, unfortunately. in my lover girl era!!)
comments:
judebellingham: unfortunately?? :((
ynusername: come here, i’ll give you a kiss to make it feel better 🖤
↪️ judebellingham: on my way! picked up your favorite snacks and hot chocolate too 🤍
↪️ ynusername: changing my caption rn!! 😔🖤
jennaortega: 🖤
zendeya: OMGGGGGG HARD LAUNCH??
ynrealestfan: never saw this coming 🤭🤭
judefan22: they’re both in their lover eras 😣😣
camavinga: y/n if you could see how jude just sighed and looked up with the biggest grin 😭😂
↪️ ynusername: he is so silly 👎👎
yourbestfriend: it couple i can’t 😩
madridwags: so happy for you two 🤍
vogue: more to come with you two 🤍
--- ꔫ ---
spottedcelebrity
liked by: username55, user91, judebellingham, ynusername, jobebellingham, trentaa, gioreyna, username123, vogue, louisvuitton, user44, username72, jennaortega, user00, and 2,399,494 others!
spottedcelebrity: wow is one word to describe this couple and their ability to make our jaws drop! after recent real madrid footballer jude, posted pictures of his beautiful gf y/n on her birthday and congrats post, the couple poses together at the LV fashion paris show!
comments:
trentaa: ❤️
jennaortega: oh my god.
louisvuitton: what happens in paris…
judebellingham: look at my beautiful and sexy gf 🖤🤍
↪️ ynusername: still made at you for going shirtless and showing everyone what’s mine 😒😒
username53: i just spit out my food
user49: what an entrance they made???
user81: her dress?? SO Y/N CODED !!
ynrealestfan: our favorite and beautiful couple!!
judefan: jude listen to your gf next time
judefanacc: HE LOOKED SO DJJDJDJD
ynstanforlife: just sighed so loud 😔
username91: sexiest couple of the generation
--- ꔫ ---
#jude bellingham#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham instagram au#jude bellingham fic#jude bellingham fanfic#football fanfic#footballer#football x reader#football au#football instagram au
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Midas Touch | n romanoff
Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.
Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)
Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader
wc: 7.1k 😬
Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..
-⧗-
Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.
And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.
Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.
Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.
Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.
He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.
These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.
Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.
“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.
“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.
“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.
With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.
Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.
She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.
“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”
“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.
“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.
Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.
The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.
“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”
Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”
“Do you read the paper?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”
“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”
“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.
“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.
Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”
“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”
“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”
Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.
“Me?”
“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”
“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”
Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.
Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.
She just wanted to feel good for herself.
But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.
Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.
Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.
“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”
This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.
“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.
“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.
“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.
“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”
‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.
With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.
“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”
Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”
Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.
“I thought-“
“That’s cute.”
Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”
“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”
“No, I wasn’t-“
Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.
“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”
“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.
With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.
The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.
The lingerie store.
It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.
She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.
Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.
As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.
She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.
Mrs Barnes:
James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)
The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.
Just leaving now. I’ll be there.
When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.
Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.
Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.
“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.
“Mostly just window shopping.”
At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”
“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“
“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”
“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“
“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”
Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.
“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”
Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.
“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”
“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”
“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”
“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”
The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.
“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.
Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.
“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”
“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”
“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.
“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.
“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”
She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.
“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.
She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.
Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.
“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”
“Thank you, really.”
Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?
Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.
Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.
However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.
Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.
Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.
After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.
“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.
“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.
“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”
“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.
“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.
She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.
James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.
“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”
“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”
“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”
“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”
She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?
~~~
Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.
And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.
“What did you talk to him about?”
Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”
“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”
Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”
James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”
“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”
“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“
“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”
She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”
That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“
“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”
James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.
An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.
A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.
She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.
Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.
The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.
The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.
Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.
But she wasn’t alone.
A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.
It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.
“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.
But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability
“What are you doing down here?”
“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.
“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”
“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”
“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“
Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction
“Did he…?”
The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.
Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.
“What happened?”
Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.
A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.
With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.
After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”
Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.
Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.
“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.
Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“
“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.
But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”
“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“
“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.
The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.
Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.
But it was too soon.
Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.
“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.
“I’ve got you.”
Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.
“Natasha…”
The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.
“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.
“Maybe.”
The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.
Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.
She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.
“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.
What were they doing?
Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.
“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.
But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?
#natasha romanoff#marvel#fanfic#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff oneshot#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfic#wlw#angst#AU#forbidden love#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#rich wife aesthetic#natasha romanoff hot#black widow
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always, evermore, even after and still !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they get married and it's the happiest day for everyone.
or
for when you finally find your happily ever after. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - hope u like this!!! i love you so much, thank you for reading <3
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 2,826,998 others
vogue charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n tie the knot in a grand yet intimate ceremony held at their villa in monte carlo.
the bride wore a valentino couture gown complete with a sprawling train and platform heels while the groom sported a classic black tuxedo. y/n’s childhood best friend, lily muni he, served as the maid of honour, whereas her close friends, carmen mundt, kika gomes and heidi berger were bridesmaids. on the groom's side, lorenzo leclerc, his brother was the best man along while his younger brother, arthur and his friend circle, which included lando norris, pierre gasly, carlos sainz and alex albon were the groomsmen. the guest list included many notable presences such as sebastian vettel, toto wolff, taylor swift, zendaya, timothée chalamet, harry styles and many more.
the couple’s first dance was to the song "love letter from the sea to the shore" performed by delaney bailey followed by "it's nice to have a friend" by taylor swift and "sweet creature" by harry styles.
tap the link in our bio to get a look inside their wedding held at their stunning villa in monaco.
tagged yourusername charles_leclerc
comments are disabled for this post
≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱
yourusername added to their instagram stories
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 796,528 others
landonorris my two best friends got married and i'm about to make it everybody's problem. congratulations, you horny motherfuckers. don't remember much of last night but as i'm sitting in a cafe in berlin, i know it ruled. here's to a lifetime of happiness, love and blessings and may this marriage not end in a divorce (y/n, lily still has that taxi driver on speed dial, say the word and we'll help you run away)
tagged yourusername charles_leclerc
8,638 comments
username stfu im gonna cry
username i feel like a proud parent omg
username we've come so far 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username not lando violating charles on his own wedding post 💀💀💀
username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭
username i love them so much my lord
lilymhe you can still escape just sayin yourusername
-> yourusername i'll keep that in mind, thank you 💋
-> charles_leclerc is it too late to get a divorce
-> yourusername shut up you literally (and legally) signed up for this
username are we gonna ignore that fact that the wedding was in monte carlo and lando's in berlin
-> username how the FUCK did that happen
-> username i just know that the party was WILD
username "may this marriage not end in a divorce" PLS 💀💀💀
username the photos ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username im living for the wedding content we're getting from like half the grid
maxverstappen1 berlin is nice
-> landonorris i know right?
-> username NOT MAX BEING IN BERLIN TOO WTF HAPPENED LAST NIGHT
username the event of the century 🔥🔥🔥
username THEY LOOK SO AMAZING WHATCTHRBUCJ
username in love with these
username god i need a life like this ://
charles_leclerc at least i had a gf and now i have a wife (thanks for the photos but i'm not paying you)
-> landonorris that's a fucked up thing to say to me (i literally hate you so much)
username fuck all the love stories except theirs
username my heart ://
username they SCREAM old money
-> username OMG THAT'S SO REAL
yourusername thank you for these pictures. we love you. take the train back to monte carlo rn or i am giving your gift to george. and thanks for the driver information, will keep that in mind definitely.
-> landonorris anytime. i love you both i guess. DON'T YOU DARE and of course, happy to help.
-> charles_leclerc DELETE THAT NUMBER RIGHT NOW
username charles has been married for one (singular) day and he's already fighting for his life 💀💀💀💀💀
username i love this friend group so much ❤️
username THEY BOTH ATE OMG
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 892,728 others
lilymhe in my head, we're still those teen girls who planned out their wedding days with so much enthusiasm and with so much detail that it would've put these planners and binders to shame. it's kinda hard to believe that my best friend is now married but honestly, y/n/n, i couldn't be more happy for you. you're my best friend and i love you so much. thank you for being just a call away, always. here's to charles (barf) and y/n (❤️)
tagged yourusername charles_leclerc
7,926 comments
username SHUT UP IM CRYING
username platonic soulmates ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ
username she's so pretty what the fuck
username Y/N ATE
carmenmmundt the prettiest bride 💕
*liked by lilymhe*
username two pretty best friends 🔥🔥🔥
username y/n looks so pretty what thebfuck omg im gonna scream
username my favs ://
username nah cus lily and y/n literally have my heart like they're my fav pair of best friends
charles_leclerc i remember when you threatened me
-> lilymhe good. remember it for the rest of your life.
-> charles_leclerc y/n she's doing that thing again yourusername
-> yourusername lily
-> lilymhe sorry
-> username NAH NOT CHARLES SNITCHING ON LILY
username she slayed so hard
username the barf and the ❤️ spoke VOLUMES
username im gonna cry they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username i wish i had a best friend like lily ://
alex_albon i never get captions like this
-> lilymhe this isn't about you
-> yourusername yeah alex this isn't about you
username y/n's childhood best friend being her maid of honour 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username in love with these two
username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ
yourusername i love you SO fucking much
-> lilymhe i love you so much more
yourusername i'll love you always thank you for everything ❤️🩹
-> lilymhe you're my best friend, always here for you and your loser ass boyfriend
-> charles_leclerc I'M HER HUSBAND
-> lilymhe okay and??? she can get another one
-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD
username i adore their friendship tf
username don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc
danielricciardo i had one (1) job and as you can see, i took it very seriously. mr and mrs. leclerc-y/l/n, everybody 💒🍧💐
tagged yourusername charles_leclerc
7,682 comments
username LECLERC-Y/L/NS
username THEY'RE SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username i love them sm what the fuck
username my parents ❤️🫶🏼
username LOVING THE WEDDING CONTENT WE'RE BRING FED RN
username she looks so pretty omg ☹️☹️☹️
maxverstappen1 why are you acting like your ass isn't in berlin with us?
-> danielricciardo THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET YOU SNITCH
username WHAT THEBFUCJ HAPPENED LAST NIGJT 💀💀💀💀💀 why are they in berlin
-> username oh the night was wildin 🔥🔥🔥
username daniel.jpg but on main
username love them sm
username SO HAPPY FOR THEM AHSHDHSJDJBS
username living for this content
landonorris berlin kinda cool
*liked by danielricciardo*
username WHY are they in berlin
-> username no it's HOW are they in berlin
username no bc i feel like such a proud mom like i watched go from "hiii/hiiiiiii" to "hehehehe i do/shut up charles, i do"
-> username that's what i call GROWTH
username her dresses ate omg
username i know daniel's not getting paid for shit
username im so ://
charles_leclerc lovely photos mate
-> danielricciardo so will you pay me?
-> charles_leclerc no
username AHHHSHDHDHDHXHXJDJDF
username gonna sob some more
username honestly crying tears rn
yourusername we love you daniel 🫶🏼 (get your ass back to monaco i am NOT kidding)
-> danielricciardo love you guys (omg we're on our way stop you scare me sometimes)
username IM NOT NORMAL ABT THIS
username fav couple
username thank u to daniel for these
-> username doing god's word fr
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and 2,826,418 others
yourusername words cannot express how much i love you. every single time i think that this is it, i cannot possibly love you more than i do, i'm surprised by myself because i do. i really do. i fall in love with you more and more every single day and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life showing you that. i loved you when you first told me that you really liked my smile and i loved you when you told me you hoped i lived nearer to you and then asked me to move in. i loved you when you took the time to get to know me and i loved you when you said that i was it for you and i will love you when our hair is turning gray and we're gonna look back and smile and fall in love even more. they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes i swear. i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it. here's to my forever love, my everything, my world. i love you ❤️
tagged charles_leclerc
17,527 comments
username GOODNIGHT
username WHAT THR FUCK
username im gonna sob this is so
username they're married 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username people say soulmates we say y/n and charles
username sliding down the door fr this is INSANE
charlotte2304 all my love to you both 💓
*liked by yourusername*
username HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL LIKE
username they're MY parents
username the caption took my heart out and squeezed it
username hahahahaha!!!!! i am NOT okay!!!!!!! what the fuck is up with that caption
sebastianvettel 💐💕
*liked by yourusername*
username he's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username "i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it" WHEN WILL IT BE ME
username "they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes" me and who lol (i am screaming crying shaking)
username no bc i too deserve someone like this ://
username it's giving timeless by taylor swift
*liked by yourusername*
username they're so taylor swift coded
username GOD ME WHEN
username gonna take a toaster bath brb 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
username don't test me istg
carla.brocker my heart 😭🩷
*liked by yourusername*
arthur_leclerc sister-in-law 💒🩷
*liked by yourusername*
username IM GONNA SCREAM WHAT THE FUXK
username MY parents 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username he's so husband coded ❤️🩹
username microwaving a spoon brb
charles_leclerc i love you so much it's unbelievable just how much
-> yourusername i adore you and every part of you
charles_leclerc my forever love ❤️ cannot wait to grow old with you
-> yourusername forever has never sounded so good ❤️
username gonna be thinking abt this for the rest of my life just so u know
username they're setting the standards so high i can't do it anymore what the fuck
username im so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,826,318 others
charles_leclerc i honestly don't know what to say. you're my biggest dream, my wife and now that i'm saying it, it sounds so surreal. i have waiting been an entire lifetime to say these words and the fact that it's you in this lifetime (and all the others), is just amazing. i wish i had known you sooner, so that i wouldn't have to spend all those years looking for love in places where it couldn't possibly be. my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad. i hope that one day, when we're old and aged and have seen a thousand sunsets, you ask me if i love you and my answer will forevermore will be always, evermore, even after and still.
tagged yourusername
16,628 comments
username I CANNOT DO THIS RN
username everyone stfu im gonna cry
username english lang is so weird bc u say true love and it translates to y/n and charles
username nah the bar is too high atp im giving up
username SHE'S SO PRETTY MA GAWD
username the fact that they're now the leclerc-y/l/ns 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
lewishamilton so happy for you both 💐💒
*liked by charles_leclerc*
username "my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad" why am i crying.
username they're the blueprint for all love stories from now on btw
username I LOBE THEM SO MUVH WHAT GHE FUCK THEY'RE MU PARENTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 😭 😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
usernames no bc the way all the photos are of random moments and this leads me to believe that charles just whips out his camera whenever y/n is just There and now im crying again
-> username he's just like us fr
-> username i too would play paparazzi for y/n is given the chance he's not the only one ://
carla.brocker coolest sister in law (best friend) 🫶🏼
-> yourusername carla i love you 😭
username still in disbelief they r married tbh
username i feel like we watched them grow up im so emotional 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username she's so pretty i could sob
username why did u think that it was okay for u to post this.
username i am not okay
lorenzotl 🤍💐
*liked by charles_leclerc*
username SHE'S SO PRETTY
username charles won at life fr
*liked by charles_leclerc*
username caption called me single and lonely in 26836282727 languages 💔💔💔💔💔
username bro woke up and chose to destroy shakespeare with that caption 💀💀💀
landonorris loved the wedding 👍 i woke up in berlin
-> charles_leclerc the wedding was in monaco???
-> maxverstappen1 i know
-> danielricciardo we obviously had some ideas and now i have an ugly tattoo and there's a ring pop on my finger
-> landonorris max has one too
-> charles_leclerc YOU MARRIED MAX
-> danielricciardo NO
-> maxverstappen1 NO
-> yourusername this is hilarious
username i need to see more pictures from the wedding I NEED TO
username i love my wife (i am delusional)
yourusername i have already loved you for a thousand years ❤️
-> charles_leclerc here's to a thousand more ❤️
yourusername i love you so much like you're my person and i just love you so fucking much :/
-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more mon chéri
username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username IM SO AHJHSJSHDHDJSKDJD
username im gonna cry brb
#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 imagines#social media au#fake instagram imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc au#charles leclerc blurb
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was wondering if you could do a smau or just a normal fic where oscar or lando are with an f1 academy driver!reader where maybe outside of racing reader is slightly alternative/rockstar gf vibes
hope you have a good day!
i am the rockstar, girlfriend | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x f1academy!reader
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo and 320,984 others
yourusername: you get the best of both worlds
view all comments
user1: enough is enough i need to be her
user2: someone get that kitty cat some ear protectors
yourusername: i found cumberland sausage in a bush by an airfield baby has ear drums of literal steel
user3: i wish i was a kitten who gets to go racing and live the rockstar life
racerbia: tell cumberland i love her
yourusername: so what about me ???
racerbia: i guess i love you too
yourusername: that's what i thought
user4: miss ma'am lowkey MADE it tell me why she has olivia rodrigo in her likes
user5: the girlies been using y/n as a pinterest board
oscarpiastri: who's the cutie
yourusername: oh oscar i'm blushing ... 😊
oscarpiastri: i meant cumberland sausage
yourusername: blocked.
oscarpiastri: i'm in your walls.
user6: i'm sorry but what the fuck is going on in here
user7: i'm just going to sit back and observe
vogue
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,209,875 others
tagged: yourusername
vogue: this month's cover of british vogue is up and coming f1 academy driver y/n y/ln who doesn't let her day job as a driver stop her from embracing her chosen aesthetic in every other aspect of her life. inside y/n touches upon her struggles as a woman in the industry, inspiring others and her scene-stealing cat, cumberland sausage.
view all comments
user8: mama on the cover of vogue ???
user9: okay i don't have a clue what the f1 academy is but i may have to tune in now
yourusername: thank yew for having me 🥰
user10: i guess we can't gatekeep her anymore
user11: gatekeep? girl she had like 700k followers before this
racerbia: oh so my bestie FAMOUS famous
yourusername: don't worry i'll never forget you
racerbia: i should hope not you still don't have your road license and who gives you lifts?
yourusername: i love youuuuuuuu
user12: so not to make it about a man, but oscar always be in the comments/interacting with posts from/about y/n
user13: rocks for brains
user14: tbf they'd be cute
oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 609,812 others
tagged: premaracing, yourusername
oscarpiastri: can't keep me away from the racing, i spent my spare weekend in barcelona with the f1 academy. oh i guess i bumped into y/n (most importantly, cumberland sausage)
view all comments
user15: so ... did anyone else know they were friends?
user16: i went dumpster-diving to find out and they're very lowkey but they've known each other a long time but because of racing in different series they've mostly had an online friendship
user15: interesting
yourusername: always nice to see you osc, and cumberland says thank you for her dreamies
oscarpiastri: she's always the highlight of our visits
yourusername: stop playing hard to get
oscarpiastri: you know i'm always easy for you
user16: @yourusername you know we can all see this, right?
yourusername: i know that's half the fun
user17: god this comment section fried my brain
landonorris: so THIS is where you were this weekend
oscarpiastri: yes, i told you this
landonorris: nooooo, you skipped my bbq because you were visiting "someone special"
oscarpiastri: yes, cumberland sausage
landonorris: i'm on to you, piastri 🤨
f1academy
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 331,896 others
tagged: premaracing, yourusername
f1academy: OH WOW !! y/n y/ln sets a record this weekend in monza by leading all practices, grabbing pole for all three races, leading all laps and winning all three races - the first ever f1 academy grand chelem
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user18: okay but like what more does she need to do to get to f2?
user19: i was there and lord this is DOMINATION
racerbia: that's MY teammate
yourusername: i love youuuuuu
user20: now this is a slay
oscarpiastri: wowowowowowowo
yourusername: do i make you speechless?
oscarpiastri: you know it
user21: these bitches are just teasing us now.
yourusername
liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 679,034 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: happy birthday cumberland sausage, my pretty girl, mummy and daddy love you xxx
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user22: MUMMY AND DADDY?
user23: so we're all idiots?
racerbia: i thought you guys agreed on a soft launch?
yourusername: too much effort, cumberland's birthday is now
racerbia: your mind confuses me so much
user24: i'm new here someone PLEASE tell me how this cat ended up with the name cumberland sausage
yourusername: when i rescued her the only food i had in my flat was a pack of sausages and it just stuck
oscarpiastri: does this make you a milf?
yourusername: and you a dilf?
landonorris: who are you and what have you done with my teammate?
oscarpiastri: are you just annoyed you found out the same time as everyone else?
landonorris: .... no
oscarpiastri
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 788,034 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: best weekend, with the best of company
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user25: mama y papa
user26: obsessed with y/n's need to bring her cat with her everywhere, she's just like me
yourusername: so proud of you osc
oscarpiastri: maybe it's because i had a good luck charm in my garage
yourusername: that's cute, but for real you're just TALENTED AS FUCK AND DESERVE EVERYTHING
user27: loving y/n's brand of aggressive positive reinforcement
mclaren: turns out we ARE a cat friendly garage
yourusername: that you are, and your catering is very good 10/10 experience would do again
oscarpiastri: extra points for letting cumberland sleep on a tyre blanket
yourusername
liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 821,067 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: living the dream
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user28: that should be me 😭
user29: god i have seen what you have done for others
oscarpiastri: i dream of you often
landonorris: i beg you stop being horny on main
oscarpiastri: you made it weird mate i'm just professing my love for my girlfriend
yourusername: awwww love you too baby
user30: the way oscar is lowkey bringing in y/n's aesthetic
yourusername: i love this thought but really he'd just came for a last min visit and that is my shirt 😭
oscarpiastri: don't expose me like that
user31: now that's MY f1 IT couple
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine
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Invisble String
luke hughes x actress!reader
note: short cute introduction to this au, get to know how long Y/n has been Luke's celeb crush and get to know Y/n
also in 2018 reader is 17 and Luke is 15 for reference so like do the math i can't do everything
2018
"Why do you even want to watch 'It' you hate clowns?" the eldest brother asked, holding a bowl of popcorn while he rounds the couch to were he previously sat.
"Jack asked for a scary movie so I suggested a scary movie." though he wasn't lying, both statements were true, it wasn't the real reason he suggested the movie. But like he would ever admit that to his brothers because he'd never hear the end of it if they knew. Little did he know they already did.
"He wants to watch it because Y/n L/n is in it." Jack mumbled, not looking up from his phone where he looked up the cast list, and he begins to laugh along when his older brother starts to.
"Not true."
"Too true."
"Shut up. Are we watching this or something else." Quinn says, being the mediator among the three.
All throughout the movie, while Luke was gawking at his dream girl, Jack and Quinn would make eye contact over his head silently laughing at their brothers face of awe whenever Y/n was on screen. When she walked slow-mo out of the store, the scenes at the quarry, Luke had the same face as the boys on the screen except he wasn't acting.
-
2020
73 Questions With Y/ L/n | Vogue
Y/n opens the door for the vogue camera man, after she just shut it on him.
"Hey! Y/n L/n! You excited for your 73 questions with vogue?" the interviewer asks enthusiastically.
"Yes, I am.. Does that count as your first question?"
While the man asks several questions, Y/n lead them into her living room.
"Who do you want to play you in a movie about your life?"
"Umm.. Sadie Sink. And I would like to play Sadie in the movie about her life."
"What is the knewest thing in here?"
After quickly looking around the girl grab a recent purchase of hers a stuffed octopus.
"I recently bought this stuffed animal. It's an octopus, because there's only one or else it would be octopi."
"Interesting, and what do you think is the coolest thing in this room?"
Setting down the octopus, Y/n walks towards her book case. Grabbing what looks to be a very old book.
"This is a vintage edition of Little Women the same one my mom read to me when I was 12 and the same one I reread in preparation for my role as Amy March."
While placing the book back on the shelf the man asks, "Without looking do you know what the last word of Little Women is?"
Jokingly Y/n pick the book up again and starts to open it, and the two chuckle, she then continues to answer the question. "No, um..I know, 'end'."
"End?"
"Yep. That counts as a question."
"It's actually 'this'"
"... 'This'?" the man nods before Y/n continues, "No, you're wrong it's end. Because all books end in 'the end' how could you not know that."
The interview continues into the girl kitchen, while she pours herself an iced tea.
"What is your favourite sport?"
"I don't really have a favourite sport, but I guess I'll say hockey. 'Cause y'know they're hot."
-
imessage
Rowdy
Did you see your girlfriend said hockey boys were hot?
Maybe you have a chance
Lukey
Shut up.
Luke rewatched that interview a couple to many times.
-
2023
Y/n_updates
liked by i_said_SpeakNow, LikeRibbonsInYourHair, and others
Y/n_updates: Y/n was at the New Jersey Devils vs Philadelphia Flyers preseason game! she was with the Devils wags too! Just more proof that her and Luke Hughes are dating... What do you think?
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taytaySwft: they would be so cute!! i hope they're together ☺️
_spider_man: what's with the it girlies dating professional athletes right now?
jackhugheswife: damn he could do better than her
amyMarchstan: better than the gorgeous and successful woman she is?
harrie13: I miss her and Lucas 🙁
stranger_80: No him and Sadie!!!
anne_Cats: so she's got a thing for Lukes huh?
harrie13: lmao i didn't even realize that 😭😭
TaybrinaStan: she's doing for hockey what Taylor is doing for football.
note: yes i did only make her previously date Lucas McLaughlin for that one joke that's not even funny.. what about it?
#luke hughes x famous!reader#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes oneshot#jack hughes#quinn hughes#hughes brothers
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The Professor
Better Off
Pregnancy Series
Champagne Problems
Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader
Unkown Number
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Bonus!
Latina!reader x Harry
Makeup artist!reader x Harry
Vogue Beauty Secrets
Painting H's nails
Girl Gone Live
How they spend their time before H goes onstage
Young dad!Harry x Young mom!reader
70s Harry and Y/n
Florist!reader x Harry
Harry is oblivious
Chef!reader x Harry
Would That I
Picnic
Younger!reader x Harry
Part 2: Harry gets insecure about the relationship
Brazilian!reader x Harry
Stripper!reader x Harry
Part 2: Harry defends reader
Asexual!reader x Harry
Guitarist!reader x Harry
Part 2
Single dad!Harry x reader
Harry x swiftie!reader
Night one of Eras Tour
London Boy
Falling
Part 2
Grapejuice Blues
Hookup Scene
Hunger
The Only Exception
Happy New Year
Happy Birthday
Just the Two of Us
Harrychella
Traitor
Part 2
Knock Three Times
Harry is Sick
The one where Harry gets amnesia
An update
The one where the relationship gets exposed
College au
Postpartum depression
Reader has a miscarriage
The one where best friend!reader gets over Harry
Getting together behind o's back
Wildest Dreams
Reader opens for Live on Tour
Reader listens to Fine Line for the first time
She
Catching up as friends
Reader cheats on Harry
Bodyguard!harry
Maybe Next Time He'll Think
Going to the Met Gala
Reader gets a Grammy
Harry and reader can't get pregnant
Speak Now
Reader has a chronic illness
Where Harry promises he didn't cheat
Harry comforts reader on a bad day
Where H's family comes to see reader perform
Best friendrry at the Grammys
Sweet (Valentine's Day blurb)
Good in Bed
Sick reader blurb
Better Man
Cheeseball (Harry x plus size reader)
Baby Said (rockstar! reader x Harry)
Just Called to Say I Love You
Childhood Best Friends
Reader helps Harry with his grief, Part Two
Cute little blurb about wine and sitting in front of ac units
Harry and Y/n cuddling on the floor
Heat Wave
Reader has an eating disorder
bad idea, right?
Rumors (Instagram Fic)
Harry gets called a slag
New Boot Scootin'
Reader asks Harry to slow down
Harry's friends give reader a hard time
#harry styles#harry styles masterlist#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing
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Newly Weds | lh44
social media!au | lewis hamilton x actress!reader | social media series
face claim; emily ratajkowski
30th June 2017
lewishamilton
liked by valtteribottas, e!news, nicolashamilton, f1 and 4,302,629 others
tagged: yourusername
lewishamilton it's officially a month since you became my wife. my whole world changed when you walked into it and I can't wait for all the years of happiness and forever mornings and nights with you. i love you, bear 🖤
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yourusername i've loved every second since we said 'i do' x
lewishamilton here's to many more great days my love x
cullen_angela congratulations again, gorgeous couple 🙏🏽
mercedesamgf1 hope you're enjoying the break with your new wife lewis! Silverstone next 🤜🏽
yourbrothersname parents are still recovering from the after party
yourusername they're still gonna be hungover by our one year anniversary.
fencer my sister 🖤
lewishamilton family
yourusername
liked by e!news, sukiwaterhouse, voguemagazine, emmawatson and 6,508,374 others
tagged: lewishamilton
yourusername home is london and my man 🌙
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lewishamilton excited for a few days with you and our babies
yourusername glad to have you all to myself
sukiwaterhouse time to spend time away from the hubby and with your girlfriends !
yourbfname suki speaks the truth, we need our girl back f1 men stole her!
yourusername i literally saw you both last week.
blakelively enjoy the newly wed bliss while it lasts 🤗
vancityreynolds love you too honey.
voguemagazine only a few days left until the july edition!!
ynfan1 are we getting another y/n vogue cover?!
fanacc2 its definitely going to be of their wedding! it was the biggest event of the year and y/n is a vogue star.
voguemagazine
liked by bellahadid, yourusername, chanelofficial, yourbfname and 3,784,140 others
tagged: yourusername
voguemagazine a sneak peak at our upcoming july issue featuring the wedding of the year! a huge congrats to the new mr & mrs hamilton who celebrated their wedding in front of friends and family off the coast of france - stunning avignon. y/n wore a custom made chanelofficial dress along with the perfect reception gown to dance the night away. enjoy a few glimpses into the gorgeous bride and her bridesmaids on the exciting day and click the link in our bio to pre-order our july edition. photos by nathaliewhytephotography
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bellahadid stunning 🤍
chanelofficial it was an honour to be apart of the big day !
yourusername it's always special working with vogue, thank you for being there to capture these treasured moments x
voguemagazine thank you for having us!
yourusername
liked by lewishamilton, florencepugh, voguemagazine, yourbfname and 6,263,761 others
tagged: voguemagazine, lewishamilton
yourusername thank you to voguemagazine for capturing the most stunning memories from one of the greatest days of my life. a moment for the breathtaking wedding dress crafted by chanelofficial who made my dreams come true. finally, to my amazing husband lewishamilton and the rest of our lives together 🤍🤍
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yourmomsname fairy tail come true 👰🏼♀️
lewishamilton my gorgeous, sexy bride
voguemagazine we loved every minute of it! congratulations again x
chanelofficial a wedding dress made for a glowing bride
side note; let me know if you want to see more!
#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#f1 imagine#social media!au#f1 fanfic#lewis hamilton fanfic#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#lewis hamilton imagines#f1 social media au#lewis hamilton social media au
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Inspired by @christinesficrecs, I'm going to do a few author spotlights! No one can stop me. I am going to shower love upon my pals and boost other writers in this fandom.
Up first we have @halevetica! She has so many options for readers!
Multi-Chapter Fics:
Leave Me in Ruins | 66K+ | 48 chapters
tags: friends with benefits, slow burn, miscommunication
Summary: Derek finds himself in a difficult spot when he mistakenly sleeps with Stiles. The two agree to forget it but Derek can't.
Before long, its becoming a regular thing, now Derek has to deal with the issue of falling even more for Stiles or losing him all together.
Stiles never dreamed of waking up next to Derek, but it's now a regular thing. However, he has to keep his emotions in check so Derek doesn't realize how he truly feels all while keeping their 'relationship' a secret from the pack and fighting the new big bad in town.
Like it or Not | 80k+ | 56 chapters
tags: fake dating, enemies to lovers, mutual pining!
Summary: Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him.
But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse…or so Stiles thought.
Same Old Song and Dance | Rated: E | 125k | 91 chapters
tags: Alpha Derek, hunter Stiles, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers
Summary: Raised in the hunter life after his father was killed, Stiles hates werewolves. So when he lands a contract to kill the alpha of the pack that killed his father, he's elated. Until he runs into complications. The alpha is smart and strong and playing a game Stiles can't figure out. When secrets are revealed and new enemies made, Stiles must decide for himself what side he's on and who he can trust.
One shots:
Cute Together | 4k
Summary: When Stiles gets stuck on a ski lift he meets Derek, who is scared of heights. He helps keep Derek calm until they can get rescued which leads to Derek teaching Stiles to ice skate. Along the way he helps Derek's two friends get together.
Promise | 3k
Summary: Derek is stuck in the airport after his flight gets cancelled on Christmas eve when he meets Stiles Stilinski. Stiles is a friendly stranger that convinces Derek to have a little fun while stuck in the airport. His night with Stiles has more of an effect that Derek thought it would.
Feels Like Home | 4k
Summary: Derek has spent years trying to quell the storm in his chest. The one that makes him feel lonely, like he doesn't belong. When searching for that feeling of home in New York where, he lived with Laura, he runs into Stiles Stilinski, who insists on Derek staying with him while in town. Derek shouldn't be shocked to find that Stiles feels like home.
Things to look forward to (aka works in progress!)
Shatter my Reality | 32k so far | 23 chapters to feast on!
tags: mutual pining, jealous Stiles, ~magic~ Stiles, Stilinski twins!
Summary: Months after the nogitsune, Stiles starts to see his own face around town. He dismisses it as PTSD. That is, until Lydia starts having a feeling that Stiles is going to die. As the pack scramble to find out what is going on, Stiles is forced to face a ghost from a past he didn't know he had and a future that seems to threaten his place in the pack.
Tangled Crowns | 23k so far~ | 14 terrific chapters to enjoy!
tags: royal au, prince Stiles, prince Derek, magic Stiles!
Summary: Flattery. Derek's life is full of it. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake people. It's exhausting.
Desperate for a night away from the high expectations and rigid life of royalty, Derek escapes to a small tavern where he meets a sweet, attractive, genuine man who only gives him the name "Mischief". He has Derek swooning by the end of the night, and Derek doesn't swoon. Their night together, the first and only real connection Derek has had in years, if not his whole life, ends too soon, and he must return to his responsibilities.
Stiles isn't ready to give up on the mysterious, handsome "Samuel" that he met in the tavern, convinced they have a connection. He finds himself risking family secrets and even the peace of his own kingdom just to keep that connection even when it seems impossible. As circumstances force them together despite betrayal and aching hearts on both sides, Derek must fight both his heart and Stiles while Stiles struggles to prove to Derek that everything between them is real.
Go check out Halevetica's AO3 page and enjoy! Don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos, maybe even drop a comment!
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Royal National Park | Manny Moreno | Vogue Living AU
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Alternative titles for Light Bringer:
Darrow O'Lykos and, yet again, the audacity of this Pixie Bitch.
The Misadventures of the Wayward Chin.
The Reaper of Mars and his himbo collection.
You can take the boy out of the pyramid, but you cannot stop him from becoming a fucking tyrant.
Martian Cookbook: The Reaper Reveals How To Best Kill Annoying Enemies (may contain honey, berserkers and new butchering techniques).
All Quiet on the Martian Front: Virginia Augustus has a Crown.
Hell hath no fury like Victra Julii-Barca.
The Odyssey where they gave Darrow a self-help book, because therapy would have made him overpowered.
Reading for filth: 10 ways you can send your annoying allies into a downward spiral by just telling them the truth in a mean way.
The Archimedes Beginer's Guide: the braincell supply is always scarce.
Don't Drink and Tell Secrets.
How much character growth can a 7 feet tall man even handle?
Lysander au Lune: from bitch to puppet to genocidal maniac.
How to deal with Depression and Hypocrisy by Sevro Barca, Goblin of Mars.
Diomedes au Raa and the Very Bad, Not Good, Fucking Stupid Days.
Atlas au Raa: Fall Skin Collection.
En Vogue: If he cannot be the narrative's favourite, he'll be the most hated.
Darrow O'Lykos: Augustan Traditions Must Live On.
The Spy That Booped My Nose.
Local Lesbian Saves Obsidian Princess.
Reaper Caused Blood on Dancefloor. Again.
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Hi, Mar! I saw you're taking prompts. What about bored 1950s housewife Mikasa and Milkman Eren? 🫢
Housewife Mikasa/Milkman Eren (1950s AU)
wc: 4.8k / nsfw / cheating
thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :) i’ll probably be posting this to ao3 as well!
Her husband kisses her cheek — a kiss lacking any desired affection, more a routine obligation than anything else — as she hovers over the countertop, flattening the pie crust over the pan. She’s been requested (instructed, more precisely) to make one of her “famous” blueberry pies for a little gathering between the neighbors. They’re her husband’s favorite — and he jokes that he’ll be a real wet rag if he doesn’t get a taste.
“Off to work,” He grumbles, his glance lazily lingering on her fingers as she works the crust around the delicate edges. “Smells good.”
There’s no smell. I haven’t even started baking.
Still, Mikasa forces a pleasant smile — flashing her prettiest doe eyes up at him.
“Just for you, dear. It’ll be ready for the party.”
“You’re a doll.” He pats her waist, simpering. For a moment, there’s a return to the man Mikasa married years ago — the loving, fun, sweet man who courted her with trips to the cinema.
Mikasa allows foolish hope get the best of her.
“If it makes you happy—”
He squashes her hankering before it can properly take root. “You know what would make me happy? If you wore that gorgeous red dress. You know, that one that I can’t get enough of?”
It takes great strain to prevent her smile from floundering. She doesn’t want to displease him — even if he hardly sees her as anything more valuable than a manifestation of his most casually-depraved fantasies. A piece of meat, worth nothing more than to gawk at instead of compliment, fondle instead of pleasure.
Mikasa nods. “I’ll do that. Run along now.”
He’s out the door quick. Across the street, the neighbor’s yappy little mutt barks up a storm; children laugh as they play games. The summer heat provides such a wonderful atmosphere for frivolity, good restful fun, but none of that luxury is afforded to Mikasa. She knows she’ll spend her day tending to the chores. Baking, so much baking — and dusting every last crevice in their home. It’ll need to be spotless for the party. All the other wives judge her handiwork, Mikasa knows this, even if they’re too gentle to tell. They’ll judge her cooking, too. Comparing recipes and weighing the benefit of certain seasonings is far more competitive than she’d like it to be.
She gets to work. Toiling and toiling. The minutes drain quickly, never enough time in the day to accomplish everything she wishes. With one task completed, Mikasa remembers three more to take its place — an endless, most tedious cycle.
The days bleed together. Chores, making meals, and dull conversations with her husband — nothing to set them apart, nothing to deem it a life worth living for the decades to come. As she cleans, she wonders if things will ever go back to the way they were before — or if some miracle can swoop in to offer a fresh new existence.
A knock on the door interrupts her dusting.
She’s happy for any moment of respite. Opening the door, Mikasa is greeted by a handsome man — a very handsome man, indeed — who holds a basket filled with jars of fresh milk. He’s new; their precious milkman was a crotchety middle-aged gentleman who— well, wasn’t much of a gentleman, lacking any way with pleasantries.
This one’s much easier on the eyes.
He took off his hat and tipped it her direction. “Morning, miss. I’ve got a delivery for you.”
Mikasa notices his smile first, his pretty teeth — but it’s impossible to ignore the rest of him, hair so reminiscent of James Dean, an actor she harbors private affections for, hidden from her husband. Under the sunlight, the green in his eyes truly shimmers. He looks like something right out of a Vogue cover — and Mikasa’s smitten. Somehow, this man manages to make the milkman uniform look dignified, alluring even.
She flattens her dress, embarrassed by the flour stains coating the front and all the wrinkles ruining the elegance of the fabric.
“Good morning.” The beam on her lips is uncontrollable; she can’t remember the last time her husband made her smile like this. “I very much appreciate you, sir. You’re kind to knock.”
“This hot sun could spoil the milk.” His eyes find the stains on her dress, as she fears. “You look like a busy lady. I sure am sorry if I’m intruding.”
She steps outside, not thinking clearly. “No, no! You haven’t done a thing. It’s quite nice to have a visitor. It gets lonely around here sometimes.”
He grins. Mikasa tucks her hands behind her back, trying to conceal her wedding ring.
“Lonely? Don’t you have a husband, ma’am?”
She blushes. Caught. Mikasa’s heart beats faster than she’d like — full of shame. What would the other wives think if they saw her? The last thing she needs is to be called filthy names, accused of terrible, terrible crimes. That doesn’t stop her from swooning as the milkman smiles.
“Ah— I do. He just works so long. I have the house all to myself. The record player’s dull company.”
“No children?”
Mikasa shakes her head — another point of shame. All the other women already started their families; some had another child on the way. Her husband showed little interest in love-making. Whenever he returned home from work, he complained about being too tired — only seeking a warm meal in his belly and a funny show on the television to fall asleep to. When the fancy did strike him, it was a quick affair, far more beneficial for his pleasure than hers — almost animalistic. He whispers no tender phrases nor any amorous praises into her ear when he’s inside her — only hardened grunts, none too appealing for Mikasa.
“No, sir. Just the two of us here.”
Just as he opens his mouth to answer, the oven inside alerts her to the pie finishing its baking. Her head swings in the sound’s direction — dreading the result the noise might have on the pleasant conversation being shared.
“That’s my pie. I better check on it.”
He unsheathes a jar from the basket and presents it to her. “Well, you’ll see me again tomorrow, ma’am. Could you save me a slice of that pie?”
Mikasa’s fingers wrap around the jar, though her eyes don’t stray from his. She smiles her prettiest smile — this one authentic, nothing forced about it in the slightest — and nods. If her mornings consisted of this man at her doorstep, that’s a routine she favors getting acclimated to.
“Are you sure you don’t want something fresh?”
“No, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to impose.”
Hugging the jar to her chest, Mikasa flushes. She wonders how obvious the scarlet appears across her cheeks. “You’re a rather thoughtful man.”
“Well, ma’am — forgive me for saying this, but you’re a rather pretty lady. My momma taught me that pretty ladies deserve good manners.”
Mikasa has to drag her gaze away, turning her face to conceal the enjoyment in her features. Her stomach twists into little tangles; this is what she’s been missing ever since getting married. How long has it been since her husband made her feel like a woman worthy of love, worthy of some grandiose affection? Far too long, those fleeting moments all but forgotten. Mikasa toys with the chance, whatever minuscule chance exists, that the gorgeous milkman can grant her the attention she yearns to so richly acquire.
“You’re a handsome man yourself.” She cannot — doesn’t want to — control her words, forbidden and sinful as they are. A quick glance informs her he’s a bachelor, no ring wrapped around his finger, no woman waiting for him back home.
For a moment, Mikasa thinks something might happen, but the man only accepts her compliment with a fond twitch of a grin.
“I best be off to the next house. You take care, ma’am. Don’t work yourself too hard, now.”
Too flustered to conjure a proper response, all Mikasa manages is a little wave of her fingers before he’s heading down the driveway.
One thing comes to her, however.
She calls after him. “Mister! What’s your name?”
He turns, adjusting his hat back atop his hair. “Eren. Do I get the treat of knowing yours?”
“Mikasa.” She gives it up fervently, not-so-secretly yearning to hear her name from his lips.
“You’ve got a gorgeous name, miss. Seems everything about you is something special.”
He’s back on his merry way in a flash, off to deliver milk to the Thompsons. Eren, she repeats to herself over and over. Already, Mikasa counts down to the following day — when she’ll get the satisfaction of watching him sample her pie.
As routine demands, Eren returns to Mikasa’s house right on schedule the day after.
He raps on her door and waits patiently — that patience swiftly rewarded with the sight of Mikasa, even more beautiful than yesterday. Her hair, curled above her shoulders, frames her lovely face charmingly. The red lipstick coating her mouth draws Eren in without hesitation. Today, no flour coats her clothes — her chosen dress, spotless and practically wrinkle-free, gives her such a delightful appearance. Eren grins.
“You look like you’re in good spirits today.”
“Much better,” she admits. “My husband phoned me just now. He’ll be staying late at the office.”
One eyebrow cocks. “That’s why you’re happy?”
“Oh, no — I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I didn’t like having my husband around, would I?”
Eren stifles a grin — clever, clever girl. He takes a step closer to the door, closer to Mikasa.
“I think any man could count himself lucky to have someone like you for a wife, Mikasa.”
Watching her attempt to hide the thrill his words provided her gives Eren an equal thrill of his own — he chides himself for not taking this job sooner, for missing out on the gem of Mikasa’s flirtatious gazes for months and months.
“I saved you some pie, like you asked.” She pauses, looking back. Eren’s heart quickens, his expectations growing. “Would you like to come inside for a sample? I’d cherish your opinion.”
“It wouldn’t be very polite of me to refuse a girl’s invitation, don’t you think? I’ll happily get a taste.”
Already, Eren’s favorite part of Mikasa is how easily she flusters, her pale skin revealing all too simply her internal feelings so poorly hidden. His words, so intentionally veering toward something less-then-chaste, strike her deep — Eren watches Mikasa fidget with her fingers before guiding him inside their home — another man’s home.
“Here.” She gestures to the kitchen island, to a slice of pie and a fork to accompany it. “I made a plate just for you — hid it from my husband.”
The milk deliveries for the day are abandoned beside just inside the home’s entrance — he hopes nobody complains of his tardiness, but more pressing matters require his attention. Offered a seat at the island, Eren takes it gladly.
“This is very generous of you, Mikasa. Are you such an angel to every stranger at your door?”
“No,” she tells him, fetching a new milk jar from his basket and unstoppering it to fill a glass for him. “Just the ones I like. The handsome ones that say all the sweetest things to me.”
Grinning, Eren severs a tiny piece from the pie and pops it in his mouth — instantly hit with the blueberry flavor and the savory crust. Mikasa, half distracted as she wipes away some crumbs from the countertops, glances back.
“Well? Do you like it? I tried something different with the filling this time. Do you think it’s okay?”
He swallows, instantly returning for another bite.
“It’s perfect, Mikasa. You’re inhuman.”
“Inhuman? Is that a compliment?”
“I mean you’re too good to explain. It’s not everyday you meet a knockout girl who knows her way around a man’s appetites.”
She set aside her cleaning cloth. Returning to Eren’s proximity, her smile gives hints into a more playful side — blossoming from the adorable shyness permeating her actions during their monumental introduction.
“Do I know your appetites, sir?”
Her innocence entices him, his heart fluttering. Does she realize how beautiful she looks when her eyes are all beady and curious, watching their subject with a gaze imbedded with coquetry.
Suddenly, he’s the one who’s flustered.
“I certainly think you might.”
Mikasa comes closer — taking a seat at the island, resting against the counter. Eren suspects she doesn’t get much time for leisure like this — his mother, back in his youth, spent so much time in the kitchen her fingers were rubbed raw, not a life befitting a beautiful woman like Mikasa.
She smiles; her voice softens.
“Maybe tomorrow I can give you a whole pie.”
Sticking his fork into the filling, Eren bites his bottom lip, suppressing a smirk.
“That’s too much to ask for.”
“Oh, it’s not too bad.” Mikasa has mastered the art of looking coy, yet poised. “Besides, who else will make you a pie? You’re not married.”
The way she says it sounds like a challenge.
“I suppose you’re right. I’ve been missing out.”
She laughs, and it’s not the same rehearsed laughter he hears from all his friend’s wives, the one out on for show — it’s a real laugh, free of discipline and regulation, all free-flowing.
“So — why aren’t you married?”
Eren sighs and scoops more pie into his mouth, indulging in its sublime sweetness.
“All the pretty girls have husbands already. That, or they don’t fancy marrying the milkman.”
Mikasa looks back to the counter, her fingers coming to her teeth, nails bitten. For a moment, Eren worries he’s upset her — but he sees her stifling more laughter, too amused for her own good. Sideways glances come his way; she reminds him of the gals back in high school, waiting to be asked for the prom.
“Tell me about your husband,” he continues.
She looks at him, confused. “Why?”
“Well, you don’t seem too happy with him.” The image of her hiding her ring hasn’t left Eren — he’s not nearly as ashamed as he probably should be when he hopes to win her over, his gorgeous client in the gorgeous dress, with the lovely laugh.
“He’s not much of a romantic anymore. He likes my cooking and my outfits, but that feels like all I’m good for these days. That, and—”
She cuts herself off, blushing hard.
“And?”
“Nothing I should say out loud.”
Mikasa’s little more than a stranger, but Eren’s so drawn to her, drawn to everything about her. She’s the best-looking woman this side of the Equator, with a honeyed smile just as saccharine as her personality. Her husband, he attests, is the biggest fool on either side of the Equator.
“He really oughta treat you better.”
Something shifts in her gaze, Eren sees it. Mikasa leans closer, grabbing his wrist. There’s a desperation present in her eyes — one he surmises has been festering for quite some time. Is he the first man to pay her a compliment?
When she speaks again, it’s hushed, like she’s afraid of any eavesdroppers — spies for her husband, maybe. “How would you treat me?”
Eren flushes, swallowing hard. He looks into those eyes, those pleading pupils — and cups her cheek, thumbs rubbing over her skin.
He can’t properly comprehend what he’s doing. Her wedding ring tickles his wrist, the metal so cold against his skin, but her skin feels so warm, warm enough to tempt him further. Grinning, Eren’s face inches closer to hers, close enough to smell the perfume clinging to her neck.
“Right, Mikasa. I’d treat you right.”
Mikasa swallows. Butterflies dance around in her stomach, fighting for a way out. It’s wrong, she tries to convince herself, but the words feel like such a blatant lie — how could something wrong feel so painfully good, so inexplicably wanted?
His touch feels damn near electric. “You would?”
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to show you?”
Mikasa’s chest clenches, but it’s a nice clench — mostly. She knows there’s no turning back after this, but by God’s glory, she needs it, needs Eren. Her lips ache in anticipation, watching his hover before her face, patiently stalling to latch on.
She nods, holding his free hand tight. “Yes, sir— I mean— I’d like that very much, Eren.”
Eren smiles. With his fingers, he draws her face closer until their mouths meet. His kiss isn’t aggressive — it’s slow and measured, so patient. Mikasa fights the urge to weep; she can’t remember the last time her husband kissed her like this, kissed her like he truly loved her. Within her chest, her heart runs at an uncontrollable pace, threatening to leap right out.
Mikasa tries to control her kiss — the last thing she wants is to scare him off by being overzealous, too opportunistic with his affections. It’s difficult — each second with his mouth on hers pumps such good feelings through her body, leaving her damn near drunk on the impact.
She tastes the pie on his lips — her pie. Somehow, that makes Mikasa even giddier. She vows to make him a hundred pies if he’ll reward each slice with kisses like this one.
Mikasa feels the wetness building between her thighs — ending the total drought she’s endured under her husband’s dominion. It’s a girlish feeling, being so besotted with a handsome, handsome man again. It should cause her shame, Mikasa knows, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. The only shame surrounding her is the shame that she hasn’t sought this out sooner.
None of the neighbors had husbands nearly as gorgeous as Eren. Her husband, even in his best days, couldn’t hold a candle to him.
“My husband— He’ll be gone for a while,” Mikasa whines between kisses. “Will you stay with me?”
Eren’s grip on her face tightens. He feels his warm exhales against her mouth, eyes fixated on the way he smirks like he’s won a lottery ticket.
“As long as you’d like, miss.”
Mikasa wants his body closer, wants more of his warmth, too spoiled to accept it only against her tongue. She takes his mouth again, claiming it in another enthusiastic kiss — but her tempted hands wander south, playing with the hem of her dress’ skirt, tugging it up her thighs.
“Touch me,” Mikasa pleads. “Please, mister.”
He smiles against her kiss. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll beg you if I must. Oh, touch me.”
His palm finds a place on her thigh, fingers locked around, pressing into her soft flesh. “Sweetheart,” Eren calls her, and oh, how she swoons. “You don’t have to beg me for nothing. Let me help.”
Eren’s fingers hide underneath her dress and ever swiftly find the source of her ache, slipping inside. Mikasa’s body recoils — overwhelmed by little more than one tender touch — and her fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him lodged there.
His mouth finds her neck. It’s been so long since Mikasa’s received any attention on her neck.
“There, oh, right there,” she moans, eyes squeezing shut. Eren rubs her slowly — and she’s left guessing whether he does it to tease her or because he’s such a gentleman.
He falls silent, so focused on pleasuring her. Deft fingers make a bigger mess of her wetness, drenching his fingertips in her sweet liquid, while his lips threaten tender bruises against her skin.
“Be careful,” Mikasa whispers, smiling. “My husband might see— he’ll get suspicious.”
Eren grins; attentive sucks become light kiss against her throat. “Maybe he should, Mikasa — maybe he’ll learn his lesson and treat you right.”
She shakes her head. “He’s never been this good to me. Never. Oh, don’t stop — please, don’t.”
Never straying from his task, Eren teases her sex for as long as he can. His mouth switches between her sensitive, markable flesh and her soft, welcoming lips, but his fingers never leave her cunt — far too absorbed in their mission to even think about quitting. Mikasa tries to remember a past memory where she felt this good, this tended to, but no memory comes.
Dizzy, intoxicated by his touch, she gets greedy.
“The bedroom— let’s go there, Eren. Please?”
“Your room?” Eren stills his fingers. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking, miss?”
Any prior embarrassment she may have felt making this request vanished long ago — unbridled by shame, too bloated with unquenchable lust, Mikasa is breathless.
“Make love to me. I miss it, I miss it so much. Make love to me, sir. Remind me what it’s like.”
His hand falls away from her cunt; whatever momentary emptiness that triggers is forgotten when Eren lifts her from her chair and asks for guidance in finding the master bedroom.
Inside, Eren rests her atop her sheets. Her legs spread naturally for him, dress skirt falling without struggle, inviting him in for a taste. She looks to her left — on the bedside table, their wedding photograph greets her. Mikasa gets an unwomanly glee out of her husband having premium seating to see another man do his job.
She watches Eren smile like a kid in a candy shop — not the leer he husband throws her way when he’s finally in the mood to get relief, but a grin of determination, determination to make her happy.
He pushes her dress further up her body, far enough for him to lower his mouth to her stomach, kissing her belly. The knots haven’t left, only growing stronger — Eren’s lips tend to the least cultivated parts of her body with great care. Mikasa writhes against the ticklish sensation, smiling graciously. Heaven’s finally answered all her silent prayers, her hidden desires, a gift for her years of devotion to faulty matrimony.
Above all else, Eren’s eyes make her feel best — in the midst of his tender kisses, his gaze finds her happily. That attention, that focus — Mikasa doesn’t need to tilt her gaze to recognize how stained her panties have become.
His fingers hook around them, but he tugs them away slowly, tediously slow, leaving a trail of sweet kisses down her midsection as the air finally hits her cunt with a shiver. Mouth teasing the skin around her sex, Eren smiles, letting all the little hairs tickle between his nose and chin.
“Mikasa, darling,” he starts, softly. “Does your husband ever do this for you? Ever?”
“Never.” Darling — much better than doll.
Nearly too dazed to properly focus, Mikasa swears that Eren’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing. He says nothing more before his tongue presses against her sweet flesh, drinking up her wetness like lemonade on a day hot as this one.
Her legs tighten around him, tight enough to knock the milkman’s hat right off his head. Fingers meddling in his pretty hair, Mikasa guides his mouth to the parts of her aching the loudest, but Eren needs little instruction.
Mikasa wonders how she tastes; her husband’s mouth never sampled her cunt, only his fingers, if she could consider herself lucky enough on those evenings to be given even that much.
Eren’s hands press her thighs into the mattress; Mikasa’s back arches, driving her cunt further into his mouth, utterly inescapable. Whimpers fall off her tongue just as easily as his tongue edges her closer and closer to fruition — the knots in her stomach tighten, so tight it’s damn near painful. Every slow lick he gifts her feels like salvation, too joyfully sinful to dare divulging at the confessional. It’s a treat to her ears as much as it is to her eyes and her sex; Eren’s mouth enjoys her without restraint, loud enough for Mikasa to hear every lick, every suck, every gasp for air.
The longer he licks, the more impatient she grows to have the rest of Eren, too.
“Eren,” she yelps, hips wild in their movements. “Mister— Please, make love to me. Take me.”
He softens, determination melting to a mellow simpler. After his tongue laps up one last sample of her wetness, Eren rises — off comes his uniform top, revealing a simple, far more comfortable undershirt. He tries taking off his pants, but the inconvenience seems to burden him, and the garments only make it around his thighs before he’s climbing on top of her.
Mikasa welcomes him into her arms — her legs wrap around him, keeping him close. The summer weather makes the room so humid; sweat clings to his skin, passing onto her pretty dress. Another chore adds to the pile, but she’ll do whatever extra laundry is required to enjoy this.
Eren kisses her hungrily, with desire, though a different desire from her husband’s. The man she married claims her as his property, his little maid — Eren strives to please, to pamper, to redeem. Her lipstick smudges around the corners, the residue swapping to his lips. Mikasa blushes; between her cunt’s wetness and the ruby-red lipstick, she’s left a real impression on his face.
Eren breaks their kiss, panting. Rustling around. Mikasa knows he’s fumbling around to get his cock out. “How long’s it been, sweetheart?”
“Since what?” She blinks, staring woozily.
“Since your husband made love to you.”
It’s not a number Mikasa struggles to recall. “Two months— Two months, nearly three.”
He scoffs, clicking his tongue. “I’ll fix that, okay?”
Before she’s able to convey her appreciation in any meaningful manner, Eren carefully sheathes himself inside her cunt, submerging inch by inch until his hips are properly introduced to hers.
Her husband prefers to take her from behind. Mikasa’s much more partial to Eren’s approach.
His thrusts are slow, gentle. Mikasa’s fingernails grip his back, pressing him even closer. He smells of sweat— and of her, and Mikasa revels in the aroma. Eren’s cock quenches a thirst she’s been suffering from for too long; the fullness in her cunt has been a source of fantastical daydreams, private, unladylike yearnings — all realized, in her husband’s bed, under his utter obliviousness.
Mikasa whimpers and moans for Eren so easily. Each thrust brings a wave of pleasure that she couldn’t dream of containing in her throat.
Eren grins with every sound she makes. “He’s a goddamn fool, darling,” he mutters. “A fool.”
“I know,” Mikasa whines back. “I know.”
His pace grows — never too much, but enough to push Mikasa close to the brink swiftly. His mouth grants affections at every opportunity; Mikasa’s lips, her collarbone, her neck, the top of her cleavage (the part that teases him most), even the lobes of her ears receive his benevolence.
Euphoria. His cock travels deep inside. The moment Eren reaches down and presses his palm against her belly, Mikasa loses control — her stomach and all its tangles start to unravel, the tension building, building — and culminating in a cascade of relief that washes over her as she drenches his cock in still more of her wetness.
Eren groans; his release takes longer. Mikasa cries out as he takes her, truly takes her, his thrusts taking care of her sopping wet cunt. The sounds alone are nearly enough to grant her another round of pleasure — but Mikasa clings to him, her dress crinkling and rustling as his thrusts grow stronger, so strong until the fullness abandons her entirely, the loss accompanied by Eren’s baritone, beautiful moans, drawn out as he paints her belly with strings of sheet white.
Though Mikasa doesn’t dare voice it, she almost longs for some of Eren’s release to linger inside her cunt, long enough to sprout. Better your child than his, she thinks, blushing at the shame.
Their breathing falls in tandem.
“Do you feel better now, Mikasa?” His voice is hushed now, too, thumb stroking her chin.
Rendered speechless, she nods.
Grinning, Eren kisses her — and again, and for a third time, the longest. To her disappointment, he’s up too soon after, redressing, fixing his hair. Mikasa frowns, forcing herself up to her elbows.
“I wish you wouldn’t have to go.”
“I know — but if I don’t deliver the milk on time, I’ll be fired. And if I’m fired,” he pauses, looking down at the ground as he smiles. “Well, then I won’t have any excuse to pay you more visits.”
Mikasa blushes. She knows he’s right.
“Remember,” she coos, biting her lip. “I’ll make you a whole pie tomorrow. My thanks.”
Eren finishes dressing — but he can’t wipe the grin off his face as he returns for one final kiss.
“My favorite’s cherry. But I still don’t know if it’ll taste nearly as good as you do, darling.”
#eremika#eremika headcannon#fic writing#my writing#darlingkirstein asks#darlingkirstein fics#darlingkirstein prompts#darlingkirstein smut#eremika smut#1950s au#milkman eren au
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FnF Characters in an Acting AU + Shipping AMV Reactions
For you @frostybearpaws
<3
Mel: Former model. Not just any model, mind you. We're talking Iman or Naomi Campbell levels of powerhouse. She is the muse for a dozen fashion brands, from Versace to St. Laurent. Fluent in a half-dozen languages. Has an MA in art history. A prodigy at piano and harpsichord. Her social media is sublime eye candy; she is lauded as a style icon, and highly sought after by Vanity Fair and Vogue for covers.
Champions tirelessly for better roles for black women in TV and film. Outspoken advocate of the #MeToo movement. Passionately antiwar, and works with a number of educational advocacy groups. Has even made a formal speech before Congress.
re: the AMVs - "Oh this is delightfully done." Flattered by the passionate responses of fans, and amused by the spirited fanbase split between Meljay and Melco. When asked who she ships: "Meljay, I'm afraid. Silco has his charming qualities. But Mel needs someone who will prioritize her, and only her."
Violet: Relative newcomer. Mostly typecast in sporty 'tough chick' roles. Had a big breakout role in a "Bend it Like Beckham" type early 2000s film. The scriptwriters chickened out with a heteronormative ending, but fans latched on to all the queer subtext in film. She's got a huge Insta following, due to her popularity in the fandom, her status as an LGBTQ+ icon, or her being an ex-pro athlete.
She's a big proponent for more diverse representation in pop culture. She also has a degree in gender studies, and is an avid fanfiction reader. She's even written some smutty one-shots of her own <3
re: the AMVs: "Wow. Just... wow." Speechless at how horny y'all are. Like, off the chains horny. And she's totally not judging. At all. But... "Damn. Take a cold shower, guys."
Sssh. She ships CaitVi too. And she agrees the Nao arc was uncalled for. "Idk what the writers were thinking. Vi would never cheat on Cait. Even if they did break up." </3
Jayce: Child actor who was thrust into the limelight after starring in a 1990s sitcom. It was cancelled, but ended up having a massive cult following. His last big project was the 2000s comedy flick, "Freaks of Zaun," which, despite a critical drubbing, remains a favorite of the genre. He's kind of a douche irl, but fans are still super into him. He's also an influencer, and runs a successful YouTube channel where he posts workout routines, travel vids, and other lifestyle-adjacent stuff.
Huge fanboy of his own character, and never shuts up about him.
re: the AMVs: "You know what? I kinda get it. These are pretty good." Is a little miffed at the whole "Jayce is an idiot" meme. “Look, he's a fucking scientist. I don't think a stupid guy could pull off the invention of Hextech." He also doesn't appreciate the ship wars, especially when it gets into toxic territory. "C'mon, guys. It's acting. There are no actual relationships. Don't turn this into a hatefest."
Has gotten cancelled once already. He's since learned not to touch that particular can of worms.
Ships MelJay and tolerates JayVik. Blanches at the mention of JayCo.
Jinx: Total newbie to the industry. Was a former gymnast, and an Olympian in the making. A torn meniscus put her out of the competition. Her agent, who'd been trying to convince her to switch to acting, seized the opportunity to get her in front of the camera. She's never had a day's training. But she's a natural. Her energy is infectious, and her charm is unmatched. A real sweetheart, too. Loves dogs and is a vegan. Advocates tirelessly for animal rights.
re: the AMVs: Shrieking at the first video like a kid in a candy shop. "Is this real? How do I join?" The first to suggest livestreaming the cast's reactions. She's not a fan of shipping wars, but has a live-and-let live attitude. Will scroll through instagram liking any video or post that has #Timebomb in the tag - her favorite ship, btw. She also likes Melco, Sevilco and JayVik.
But not Cait/Vi. Or Jinx/Silco.
"Just... yuck."
(CaitVi shippers accuse her routinely of homophobia. She's not homophobic. She's ace-aro. She's just finds the CaitVi pairing boring.)
Sevika: A rising star, and a fan favorite. She was a former MMA fighter before an accident left her with a paralyzed left arm. She'd been content to go the rest of her life as a trainer, until a talent scout noticed her. She was cast as a supporting character in a cop procedural. It ran three seasons, but her charisma made her a longstanding fandom icon. Audiences in FnF have been clamoring for more screen time, and the writers have been accommodating. Rumor has it that they're working on an origin story arc, where she'll be the main character.
re: the AMVs: "How'd this become a thing? You're all fucking weird." Has an opinion on every video. Doesn't hold back. Her reviews are highly anticipated, and fans love her blunt commentary. She doesn’t ship anyone. But she will like any MelCo tags that cross her Twitter feed.
Not because she thinks they're hot, but because she hates Jayce, and thinks it'd be fun to watch him suffer.
Married IRL to Mel, whom she met on set<3
Caitlyn: Nepo baby. Her parents were both Academy Award-nominated actors, who met while filming a romcom. They've had an on-again, off-again relationship for the last thirty years. Cait has been in the industry her whole life, and acting professionally since she was five. Her resume is filled with romantic comedies and period pieces. She's been compared to Audrey Hepburn, and is considered a classic Hollywood beauty. Originally, she was cast in the role of Nandi, opposite "young" Silco. But the Vekauran community derided the casting as whitewashing, and her chemistry with young Silco was totally lacking. She was recast as Vi's romantic interest, and the rest is history.
She's a huge fan of CaitVi, and is known for her frequent appearances at Comic Con. Always happy to pose with cosplayers of her character. She also has a penchant for weird memes.
re: the AMVs: Has a very strict rule about never Googling her name. Opts out of the shipping wars, too. "If it makes people happy, who am I to judge?"
Vander: Former action star, and a fan favorite. Played a superhero vigilante in the late 80s. Known for his iconic lines: "We can do this the easy way. Or the hard way." He had a string of hit films before the industry shifted away from the genre. His career suffered, and he found himself typecast in a string of poorly-received knock-offs of his old films. His final movie tanked at the box office, and he nearly threw in the towel. But his manager convinced him to audition for the show.
He and Silco are known for their on-screen chemistry, and were the subject of a lot of "Are they?" questions. In an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, Vander even stated, "Look, I'd do Silco. It's no secret." Which caused quite the stir on the internet. Sources still aren’t sure if he meant the actor or the character.
He's a huge fan of the show, and a proud member of the fandom. He ships Jinx & Silco, but as platonic soul-family. He's also a CaitVi and Timebomb fan.
re: the AMVs: "Aww, this is cute." He's the most positive out of the bunch. Is a bit weirded out by the fan obsession with his love life. "I mean, I'm flattered, really. But c'mon, guys. I have a husband." Is super active on Twitter, and frequently replies to fans.
Viktor: Little-known actor from a small country in Eastern Europe. He'd been an up-and-coming romantic hero, guest-starring in a popular soap opera. When a visa snafu kept him from appearing on the show, he was replaced. But the fans revolted. They loved the character, and didn't want to see him gone. The studio listened, and after he found good legal representation, he was able to secure a permanent work visa and keep the role.
Very sweet and reserved; he's not really into social media, or even the internet.
re: the AMVs: Totally geeking out over them. Has a huge crush on Jinxtor, but doesn't realize it's a no-no in the USA as Jinx is 18, and Viktor is 34. He enjoys JayVik as both a scienbros dynamic and as a romantic couple.
Favorite ship is SkyVik. He's even collaborated with a few AMV creators on Youtube on a whole collection of SkyVik videos.
"It's a tragic love story, no?"
Silco: Indie darling. He was a teen star in the early 80s, and garnered a small but loyal fanbase. His first film was a horror flick, where he played a troubled runaway who'd been possessed by a demon. The raw animalism of the performance garnered him a Golden Globe nomination, and his subsequent projects had a similar gothic flair. He's also starred in a number of subversive art house films. His breakout role was the dissolute vampire king in the cult classic, "Blood for Blood" - for which he snagged an Oscar nod.
IRL he's a vocal advocate for unionization, and regularly attends protests in support of worker's rights. Conversely, he's also a vocal proponent of capital punishment.
re: the AMVs: Is mystified at first. Then intrigued. Then appreciative. "This is quite good. The editing. The cinematography. The music. It's not all amateurish, as one might expect." Mostly, he's a silent observer. Always watching, and seldom commenting. A veritable mystery.
He ships CaitVi, but only for the aesthetic. Jilco gets a raised eyebrow and a headshake. Vanco gets a crooked smile. Sevilco, and he'll actually chuckle.
"You are a strange, strange people."
His favorite ship is Melco. Largely because he and Mel had a fling irl during his tenure on the show.
Ekko: Hearthrob of the fanbase. He's an influencer, and runs a YouTube channel where he reviews tech toys and gadgets. His fans are mostly teens, and he has an adorable 'too cool for school' schtick. He's a huge nerd, though, and is actually a prodigy when it comes to mechanical engineering. His parents were scientists, and he was homeschooled his whole life. He got his first TV role by winning a game show, where he had to create a prototype toy that would be marketed and sold to kids.
He's also the funniest out of the cast. And he knows it. Always quick with a zinger, and can turn even the most awkward situation into a comedy routine.
re: the AMVs: Cracks up over the first few videos. Then becomes an avid fan of the whole genre. Has a soft spot for Timebomb, but he and Jinx are friends irl, so he doesn't want to make things weird. Comes up with his own random ships to troll the fanbase.
Ekko/Vi - "A disaster. Imagine how awkward that would be."
Ekko/Mel - "She's totally out of his league. But I'm down to see how it would go."
Ekko/Sevika - "Now, that would be something. She is one hot mama."
Ekko/Jayce - "I'd top him. There, I said it."
Ekko/Cait - "She's totally a virgin. She'd die."
Ekko/Silco - "Fuck this guy, amirite? Literally."
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#arcane vi#violet#arcane mel#mel medarda#arcane ekko#ekko#arcane jayce#jayce talis#arcane viktor#viktor#arcane sevika#sevika#arcane vander#vander#caitvi#vi x caitlyn#silco x sevika#silco x mel#mel x jayce#ekko x jinx
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youtube
The five minute 1902 film "Le Cake-Walk au Nouveau Cirque" by Louis Lumiére features the actors Charles Gregory and Jack Brown of the vaudeville troupe Les Nègres, and is the first time a person in drag was captured on film.
The lively and expressive movements of the cake walk are considered to be an ancestor of modern vogueing.
Images of Gregory and Brown are often mis-identified as being of William Dorsey Swann, but were taken in the 1900s, after Swann had left the drag scene.
Aside from the fact that they were mostly active in France and toured all across Europe, very little is known about Les Nègres and Gregory and Brown.
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Forfeiting My Mystique
Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader
Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.
-OR-
An Ezra Art Collector AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: voyeurism; kind of objectifying? (not sure how to tag the strange shit going on here); ezra’s weird; mommy issues; references to past childhood abuse; touch aversion/touch starved (at the same time); sugar daddy vibes; size difference; oral sex (f! receiving); butt stuff lite; dom/sub undertones; power dynamics; self esteem issues x2; panty thieving; masturbation; obsessive behavior; possessive behavior; brief mention of recreational drug use; brief discussion of parent death
A/N: This is extremely self indulgent - basically I wrote it for me, but you guys can read it too. I know I took some liberties with Ezra's characterization but whatever.
Inspo (and some of the dialogue) pulled from Lenny Kravitz’s Paris town house Vogue tour, Jeremy Strong’s favorite things GQ interview, and “Marianne” from Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin.
Title is from the poem by the same name by Kaveh Akbar.
Word Count: 12K
Read on AO3
Ezra has always loved beautiful things. Since he was a child, his mother taught him to instill an appreciation for beauty into all facets of his world. She herself, a gorgeously beautiful creature, was well versed in such a life. But beautiful as she was, she was also cruel, selfish, capricious to her very core, and she’d turned him into a strange amalgamation of a man by proxy. At once also cruel and selfish and capricious, but hurt and soft and gnarled, as well, so that he was also made gentle and aware and hopeful. That above all else, his greatest weakness, always hopeful. Perhaps, to the point of naivety, the point of peril. For he looked for beauty in all things, and to do that, he was forced to bestow his hopeful eye upon even the ugly and harsh things of the world.
And so he’d dedicated his life to finding those beautiful things. An art collector by virtue, they called him. A vulture, a scavenger, a treasure hunter. A man full of greed and pride, demons and too much money. All he thought of himself as, was hungry. So yes, perhaps a scavenger, a morsel of greed within the marrow of his bones, always looking for the next sublime artifact, painting, statue – person. But he also liked to think of himself as a protector of those beautiful things, of historic things. Things that changed the very face of humanity, shifted the tide of the world. A collector – always in search of the next life changing sight. Always certain the world was filled with endless possibilities for beauty, for loveliness, for sensuality, for something to captivate, to overwhelm him.
-
The first thing he sees are your feet. Standing in the gallery over from the one you’re inhabiting, people he doesnt know or give a fuck about talking at him, schmoozing and preening and prostrating themselves. Probably hoping he’ll cough up a couple million euro for whatever cause they’re pretending to crusade behind at the moment. He can see only the quarter bottom half of the famed performance artist he’d heard so much about. The entire exhibit tonight had been built around you, and it had the whole of Paris raving and ravenous for a piece of the lovely morsel they so claimed you posed as. Shallow and vain creatures that the peers of his echelon were, they were easily amused and easily bored by the smallest passing fads. At once desperate to be the first to see or speak of a thing, and consequently, the first to discard it as dépassé.
He’d made the trek all the way to the Left Bank from his townhouse in the 16th arrondissement, to see the performance of the woman whom his associate, Oruf, had said would change the way he thought of a living creature forevermore. Big words from a little man, Ezra had no real inclination to believe.
The angle of the wall blocks most of you from his view – granting him the sight of only your knees down. Your feet are small, he can see the tiny square shape of your nails, the gleam of them under the soft warm overhead light – lying on your side, one slotted above the other. The fine architecture of your ankles – delicate, the blue hued veins crawling like vines up the top of your foot, lost to the pale of your skin. The smooth, glossy slope of your calf, up to the flat round of your patella. It’s all he can admire from where he stands. Pretty legs, but nothing to lose one’s head over so far.
The person talking at him is interminably long winded. Ezra would like nothing more than to beg them to shut the fuck up and be on his way. He wants another drink. He wants to see you in full. He’d heard so much about the woman sitting for the live art exhibit. You’d been heralded into a creature of myth by the wagging tongues of Paris. He wanted to discern for himself the level of sanctity you deserved. He wanted to see your face.
Finally, he’s able to demure from the conversation, the promise of ten million euro for the charity of the sycophant’s choice, promised off-handedly – any amount of money would’ve been too little to get the gaping, begging maw to quit it’s yapping.
He slinks along the shadows of the walls, a vulture in its natural habitat. The lights brought down to a low warm hue, meant to shape itself along the contours of your skin, bring out the soft gleam within you. Surely the oldest trick in the book, that of light and shadows. He moves further into the room slowly, your back to him. The plush round of your bottom comes into view, two little dimples gracing the low of your back, the notches of your spine, up, up, to the heavy mantle of your hair. You’re resting on your hip, your torso twisted so your chest is pressed to the chaise you lounge on, your head laying cradled in the circle of your bent arms. There is a tiny, delicate outline of a sparrow tattooed at your shoulder. He watches the slow rise and fall of your back, the shadow of your ribs – he’d feed you more if you were his. The thought comes unbidden – a little shocking – a lovely bottom, beautiful, long hair, but for a man like Ezra – one who so wholly avoided any sort of ownership by another or over another, the thought of such intimacy, something to cause revulsion, not desire, coming from his own psyche, it’s almost distressing to acknowledge as his own.
The crown of your head gleams like a halo in the soft overhead gallery light. The room is muted, voices hushed, and the patrons rove around your unmoving body, the rhythm of your breath the only discernible sign of life on your form from back here. Oruf had claimed that you did not move a single millimeter during the entirety of the three hour long performance. He sure as fuck didn’t believe that. He was having a quite, self proclaimed, contrary and bitter season, by his own choosing, and was prone to bouts of obstinance and general disagreement at anything and everything that presented itself to him. He was choosing, as of now, to not believe in your myth.
He moves further around the center where you lay in repose. He needs to see your face. That will give him the answer he’s come here for.
There’s a large group standing right in front of you – rudely pointing, whispering, and he feels a surge of annoyance at the sight of them. You were here to be observed, appreciated, not fucking ogled like some cheap attraction, and he was here to see you – they needed to get the fuck out of his way.
Finally, they shuffle off, leaving the space directly in front of you open. He makes the final round above your head, comes to stand before you. Oruf had said the only part of you that moved were your eyes.
They fall on Ezra now.
It could have been as if, in that moment, you’d gotten up, naked as Venus, to shriek directly in his face. That powerful was the force behind your gaze – a punch to the gut, his mothers handbag swinging unexpectedly, purposefully into his stomach as he scurried meekly behind her as a child.
He pulls his Jacques Marie Mage frames from his nose. He needs to look away from the searing power of your attention. He needs a moment to collect himself, taking deep breaths as he studies the glasses, runs the tip of his finger over the bridge. He’s held frozen in place by the feel of your gaze still upon him.
He decides in that very instant he has to have you.
When he looks back at you, your eyes flit away. He is dismissed – made ravenous. On the verge of tears, perhaps. Look back at me, look back at me, look back at me. What sort of reaction is this to a woman whose name he doesn’t even know? Nonsensical. Perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation – the edibles he’d downed before coming, maybe he’s having a bad reaction.
But the gift of your slow, lazy gaze roves around the space he inhabits now, everywhere but directly at him, almost like a punishment for having looked away from you first – even for a second.
He’s never considered the prospect of trying to buy a person. The moral question or dilemma of it. He decides he doesn’t necessarily care. Whatever he has to do to get you to leave this place with him, he’ll do. What he’ll be able to bring himself to let happen after that, if he’ll even be able to touch you, be brave enough to let you touch him, remains to be seen. Inconsequential too, he finds.
He circles the gallery for close to an hour before he can no longer help himself, can no longer feign casualness. The rest of the art here is pale and dull in the light of your luminescence. He finally comes to a stop in a corner diagonal from where you face, in the shadow of the sculpture of Paolo e Virginia. At this moment, he feels certain Puttinati prophecised your existence, to so depict the vision of reverence he’s feeling for you in this moment.
The performance is three hours long. In that time you don’t move your body at all, Oruf was right – lying with the stillness of marble. The only thing that moves are your eyes, and you watch the patrons closely, examine them. Your gaze is part of the art, part of the power of it.
The visage of you is shocking, not for your nudity, but because in a lifetime filled with unimaginably lovely things, you are, by far, the most magnificently gorgeous creature Ezra has ever laid eyes on. It is like a recurring bullet to the temple over and over again for the visceral shock you pull out of him.
Finally, finally, your gaze falls on him again. The meeting of your eyes, like the strike of lightning against the earth. He can feel his cock thicken, grow heavy, just at the touch of your gaze. It’s voyeuristic – unexpected – he can’t remember the last time he got hard. He feels almost perverted, sporting an erection at the mere sight of you, surrounded by all these people in this crowded gallery.
He can’t see your breasts entirely, pressed to the chaise as they are, only the full, pale sides. He wonders desperately at the color of your nipples, the shade, the hue. He’d like to imprint it in his mind. Know the taste of them, as well, of all your skin – wonders if the color there matches that of the skin between your legs. The thought causes hunger to climb like fire up his chest into his throat, saliva pooling heavy in his mouth at the mere suggestion of your cunt in his mind.
His eyes leave you for a moment, to cast the wide net of his gaze around the room, at the other men. He wonders if they’re hard too, if only your naked skin, lying still in repose, has the power to make their blood rush, their muscles thicken. He is not pleased by the thought of that. And when he comes back to you, you’re still on him. Gaze roaming down his body, taking in the fine cashmere sweater, his perfectly tailored suit, built to hang in a precisely designed loose cut over his shoulders, down his long legs, the incongruous sneakers, back, back up to his face, the spot of blonde at the front of his hair. A single delicate eyebrow crooks in a minute arch at him. It is all the answer he needs
You are looking back at him. It’s all he needs to know.
As the three hour mark comes to a head the lights dim even further until only a singular overhead spotlight falls upon your form. Your skin glows, seems to flare brighter for a single moment, and then a golden sheet of gossamer begins to slowly fall from the ceiling, and right before it lands upon your body, you finally move. Your body stretches, toes pointing and curling, long arms stretched in an arc over your head. The fine lines and slopes of your body coming into startling clarity for one moment, and then you turn over, away from him, where he can’t see your face anymore, and curl in on yourself. The golden gusset falls upon your coiled form, as if you’ve finally been put to rest. The lights dim until all that’s visible is the luminous gleam of the shroud over your curled body.
You are a girl made of golden myth and gossamer, and he must have you.
-
“Hello, Sparrow.” He steps into the small, warm space of your dressing room.
You turn to face him, you’ve been waiting for him. “Hello,” you say slowly. “You were watching me.”
“Everyone was watching you.”
“Not like you were–”
“No… not like I was.” His accent is some strange sort of concoction of eclectic European – at once French, but also slightly Germanic, with an inflection of deep American South at the end. The vowels and consonants rolling off his tongue, smooth and hypnotizing like the warm pour of honey, and then, suddenly, inflected with a bout of sharpness. Something that snaps you awake, forces you to come to attention, to pay attention to him. That was all it was really, you could tell, a forceful, demanding grab for attention at all times. He called it to himself, seduced the people around him into ardor. Whether they knowingly chose to be entranced or not, was not up to them.
“Ezra,” he gives an imitation of a little flourished bow. You give him your own name in return. “You were watching me back.”
“I couldn’t help it.” He had demanded it of you, after all, no need to lie now.
“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.” You turn back to continue packing your bag.
“I’m not very hungry.” You feel him come closer, hear the subtle hint of pleading desperation in his sensual voice that has pleasure coiling deep in your belly.
“A drink then.”
You’d like to be on clear ground with this man who you can see, even now, is an enigma not to be trifled with unconscionably. “Where? At your house?” you turn to crook a sardonic brow at him.
“Would you like me to take you to my house?”
“Yes. If that’s what you want too.” You’d already decided, didn’t see the point in prolonging the game.
-
His security takes you out the back of the gallery, dark Maybach rolling smoothly up as soon as you reach the curb, and you feel the searing phantom heat of his large palm hovering over the small of your back.
He hasn’t touched you a single time yet, and everything within you is coiled tight, waiting for that first graze.
He pulls the car door open for you himself, and then his driver is there, smoothly offering you his hand to help you step into the sleek interior. The leather beneath you is buttery chocolate brown and you press your thighs together. His security had taken your bag from you, and you felt bereft and listless without the protective clutch of it within your hands now.
He follows after you, sliding gracefully onto the seat across. You can see he’s wearing two gold chains around his neck that rest in the dip of his collarbones, and your mouth waters at the sight. The car pulls quietly away from the curb and then you’re merging into the busy city traffic, ensconced in the quiet of this liminal space he’s stolen you into with him.
He crosses one knee over the other, one thick arm thrown languidly over the back of the seat. You can see a small gold signet ring gracing his pinky – some sort of crest emblazoned on it.
Fucking family crest kind of rich. God. You don’t know if you’re prepared for this.
You cock your head to the side, the muscles in your neck are a little stiff and sore from holding your pose for so long, and you let your neck roll back on the head rest.
He’s quiet, still observing, as if you’re still existing within the walls of the gallery, and not being spirited away to his home so that he might have his way with you.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Might as well be blunt, you think, now that you’re here. He was so gorgeous in that room, watching you, circling you like a beast hunting in the wild. There was really no other way this night was destined to end, but with you beneath him, taking him into your cunt.
“Would you like me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t respond, only gives you a melodic little non-committal hum, continues to look at you from the seat across with those deceptively guileless eyes. You want him to snatch you by the chin and spit in your mouth.
-
The drive ends in front of the grand façade of a pristine Parisian townhouse on a secluded street in the 16th arrondissement – flanked by national embassies, no less.
You are very, very far from home. In a Paris you’ve not ventured into in all your years of living here.
He helps you from the car, finally, finally, finally, thick palm wrapping entirely around the thin of your wrist. Everything within you coils and pulses, tight and wet. His skin is warm and dry, you can feel the pull of rough calluses on his palm. You’re sure he can feel the hammering staccato of your pulse through the thin membrane as you stare at the way his fingers overlap completely around the circumference of your limb.
He lets you step into the foyer ahead of him as one of his staff sweeps the door open for the two of you, ready and waiting for their master to return with a respectably quiet, monsieur, mademoiselle, in greeting. There’s a huge Basquiat in the entrance hall, across from the sweeping staircase.
“Lots of his art came my way,” he says at your obvious admiration, shock, desire to tuck tail and run back home. “We weren’t friends, but I was roommates with a guy he’d lived with. His last girlfriend was best friends with my girlfriend at the time, so when he died we had one of the first calls.”
“It’s wonderful–” Your voice is full of awe, eyes taking in a type of home you’ve never seen before up close like this. Something out of a picture book that sits on the coffee table of someone wishing for more.
“How many bedrooms does it have?”
“Well… they get used for different things – so I’m not sure. Let’s call it eight.”
You huff a small laugh, run your finger along the keys of the opulent crystal Steinway. “Let’s call it eight, sure.”
Now that you’re here, that he hasn’t overtly said he’s brought you here for sex, you don’t really know what it is he wants from you. A bad thought, but an honest one.
“Drink?”
“Yes, please.”
He leads you into an elegantly lush reception room, hovering hand again at the place above the small of your back. There’s a gargantuan crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the room, two enormous elephant tusks flank the elaborate mantelpiece. The room is a mix of eclectic eccentricities, both neutrally elegant and demure in its obvious wealth, but inflected with touches of vibrant color and idiosyncrasies to bring the room together in a way that you think must reflect the house’s owner.
He moves to the bar, choosing the green bottle of twenty year Laphroaig and pours a knuckle into two crystal tumblers. He’s quiet, subdued, and the lack of small talk to fill the silence has the backs of your knees itching and sweating.
There’s a glossy red panther sculpture prowling across a gold and ivory lacquered coffee table. He comes to hand your glass to you. “That’s a museum piece. I can’t remember where I got it, but it’s rare.” You can’t tell if he’s trying to boast, to impress you, or merely share his satisfaction at owning a piece of art worthy of a museum's gallery. You’d already discerned that at the Basquiat’s first glance, shit, at the first sight of the house. It was a veritable museum on its own. You were sure the number of museum pieces in every room were too many to count in a single night, nay week.
You don’t sit as he goes to do, but start to slowly circle the room. An imitation of his slow roving of you earlier at the gallery. The peat whisky is bold and smoky, a surprising hint of something akin to seawater, but also mellowly sweet. You think that this must be what his skin tastes like, his come – an amalgamation of all the different flavors on the wheel. Saliva pools heavy on your tongue and you take a deeper sip, eyes flitting to him.
“Three hours is a long time to lay so still,” he says.
“It is. But I’m used to it by now.”
“You must be tired.”
“Not particularly – perhaps a bit stiff.”
“Have you been doing this for a long time?”
“Not so long, but not so short, either.”
“So just the right amount?”
“Yes.” He’s quiet for a moment then, still watching, watching, watching. His gaze upon you feels like the drag of a specter’s fingers along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. You wonder if this is how he felt while you watched him in the low light of the gallery. Hunted. But no, you imagine there isn’t anything that could make a man such as this feel like prey.
“Can I draw you a bath?” You pause at this – firmer, more familiar ground, finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. His request for you to get naked for him, to let him into your body. It’s what you want also. He’s not rushing this, and it’s making you feel unstable, unsure of the ground you’re treading here together.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
-
He leads you upstairs, to one of the guest bedrooms. The en suite, one of his favorites in the house – dark marble tub in the center of the room under a low hanging crystal chandelier. The French windows let in the soft glow of the moon outside, and he draws the bath for you as you peer through the glass. The reflection of your face in the windows, eternally distracting.
When the water is warm and ready, a splash of Neroli Portofino Body Oil poured under the stream, he turns to you. He’s hesitant – both of himself and you, equally. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a body not his own, and he feels the slight anxious tremor of his hands. Although he can’t be sure if that’s strictly attributed to nerves, or all the blood in his body pooling in his cock at the moment.
“Can I take your clothes off?” said as gently as possible, so as not to spook you.
Your gaze is as direct as it was while you lay watching him, surrounded by half of Paris. “Yes.”
He starts at the tiny bow holding the front of your soft silk blouse together – the weave so fine, it’s almost translucent, and he can see the outline of your evasive nipples he’s been so desperate to see. He pulls on the string letting the neck of the blouse fall open, then down to the tiny pearl buttons holding the rest of it together. All without touching your skin.
You’re panting, face already flushed, eyes bright, almost fevered. His balls are tight and heavy, ready to come, just with this. Just at the mere fucking vision of you ready and panting for him. His belly clenches and then he pushes the silk off the fine bones of your shoulders. The wings of your collarbones, the shadow of the dip in them the most tempting image he’s ever beheld in his entire life. He wants to dip his tongue into the tiny pool, fill them with ambrosia and drink directly from your skin.
He feels his cock begin to leak.
The zipper at the side of your skirt is next. He watches the rise and fall of your ribs, the tremble of your throat as he pulls it down slowly, revealing the rest of your skin to him. There’s a tiny lace thong around your hips, robin's egg blue. Oh, he will be stealing that for himself.
He finally lets himself touch your skin as he pushes the scrap of lace down your legs, crouching smoothly to his knees to help you step out of it. He takes in the sight of your small feet up close now. The fine tendons of your musculature entirely too fucking beguiling. He ghosts the tip of a single finger over the top of your foot and you moan for him. So goddamn sweet and wanton.
He unfolds to his full height and pockets your panties. To be inspected at a later time, pressed to his nose and mouth so that he might drink the scent of you down into himself. He tips his chin at the tub now, holding your wild gaze, breaths coming in short little gasps. Your cheeks are flushed the color of your nipples. The tiny wisps of hair at your neck and temples beginning to curl deliciously in the humidity of the bathroom. He could spill his seed just at the look in your eyes, he’s sure of it.
“In,” he orders, crowds you towards the edge of the tub and grips the bend of your elbow between his thumb and index finger – as little contact as possible – to help you into the water. “Sit.”
You immediately obey, and that fills him with more pleasure than the sight of your naked skin. The control you’re granting him right now, allowing him the privilege of ordering you for the sake of his own comfort – he’s going to reward you very well for being so good for him.
He bends over the edge of the tub, hovering over your beseeching upturned face. He brushes his thumb softly over your full bottom lip. “Good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut, you look down into the water, a lovely pink blush blossoming over your cheeks. “Relax. Soak for a while.”
He can tell you want him. Badly. The flush of your cheeks down to your breasts, rosy little nipples peaked, your quick breath. That want, compounded doubly by his refusal so far to really touch you — his inability. The more he stays his hand, the more you want him, and the more you want him the harder his cock grows, the more frightened he becomes. He thinks it’s very true, that old adage, the harder you try to push a woman away from a man, the closer she will go to him by virtue of rebellion.
You sit in the warm bath for close to an hour, and he watches rapturously, hypnotized by the slick wet of the water rolling over your skin, from his seat on an ottoman at the center of the room. The weight of his gaze on your skin, almost violent in its intense desire. He wants to lick every single droplet from your body and then bite into the heavy lush weight of your tits until his teeth are imprinted in the soft flesh, bruises sucked into the pale globes. He hopes you’ll let him. He hopes he’ll let himself.
Your returning look is equally wanton. He watches your gaze trained and hungry on the heft of his cock hiding beneath his trousers. You spread your legs for him beneath the water as you wash yourself, putting on another show, private, just for him. An unjustly jealous wrath stirs within him, coiled and hissing, at the thought of any other human on earth ever getting to see you the way he is now. Largely a passive man, the violence that surges within him has him surprised and not, in equal measures. For he thinks that no being ever having beheld you, could ever possibly be driven to feel any other way than obsessively possessive over such a creature as yourself. You’re like a siren in this moment, languishing in the warm water of his bath, in his house, where you agreed to come with him tonight. A nymph willingly slinking into the depth of Tartarus, knowing she’s in peril of being wholly devoured by the beasts that lay at its depths, and still going anyways.
He helps you out after a while, tiny little fingers and toes soaked to wrinkles, elbow once again caught between his two fingers, and the heat rolling off your skin sears him. Has a violent tremble running jaggedly down his vertebrae.
He wraps you in a plush white towel, pulled from the warming rack, helps you dry your long hair. Then goes to his room for one of his shirts to put you in. He pulls one he’d worn a few days ago off the pile from the chair in the corner. He wants to know you’re sleeping in something that’s already been on his skin, that smells like him, that you’re soaking now in his own scent.
As he pulls the towel from around your body to once again reveal your bare form to him he presses a soft kiss to your naked waist – can’t help himself, the soft slope entirely too beguiling. Overtaking any apprehensions he may have, and his gut clenches with fear and desire. He can feel the weeping of his cock dribble down his thigh as he presses his lips to the warm, fragrant skin.
You’re quiet, watching him, letting him do with you as he wants. His own little sentient doll, created for his pleasure only. “I have a farm in Brazil,” he says. He rounds your form, starts to braid the long strands of your hair into a single plait. You put up no protest – it feels like water, slipping through his hands. “We grow organic fruit and vegetables and there’s cows, lots of cows. We never kill them, they just live there, graze.” One of his favorite places in the entire world, but perhaps, second to the place he resides now, staring at you, dressing you, touching your hair. “I love it there, I’ll take you.”
“Okay,” you say easily. “I’d like that,” the gift of the gentle curve of your smile. He wants to lick into your mouth, fuck you with his tongue, slap your pussy and watch the blood rush to the surface, feel the tight clench of your asshole as he fills you with his come.
“Will you let me watch you play with your cunt?” he asks gently.
“Won’t you do it?”
“I’m scared to touch you yet – to find out if you’re actually real.” He feels an uncharacteristically self conscious blush mar his cheeks. “I–I’m not ready. I want to watch first.” He comes to kneel between your parted thighs that dangle off the high bed. “Pet your cunt for me – show me how you like it, sweet girl. Please.” He is not above begging. Not for this. Not for you – for the sight of you playing with your wet, pink pussy.
You spread your legs wider, give him the tantalizing peak of your bare sex, your glistening folds. You’re already fucking wet for him. He feels an unrestrained growl claw up his throat like fire. His mouth goes dry, parched. The only way to sate himself, to drink straight from the source of your glossy slick.
You press your fingers to the pearl of your clit, swollen and needy already, he can see. You start to swirl little circles over your slippery flesh, your wet mouth falling open in a gasp. “That’s it, yeah–” he whispers, bringing his face in closer to the apex of your thighs so he can smell you directly from the source. His eyes flutter as he breathes in the scent of you, the deep amber and citrus from the bath oil, but beneath that, entwined in the rich notes, the musky scent of you. Fucking mouthwatering. He hears himself moan, the sound pulled almost unconsciously from his body.
“Inside– put your fingers inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” You press a single finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, and start to rock your hips. He can feel your gaze on his face, the weight of it heavy and pleading.
“Ezra– p–please, please, you do it,” you beg, let your head roll back as you press another finger in and start to rock your clit against the mound of your palm in earnest.
“But you’re doing so well, sweet girl. About to make that little cunt come for me. Look–” He gives you the weight of a single palm on the bend of your knee and you moan deep and ragged at just that compact touch. He can’t help himself – he pulls the edge of the t-shirt up to bare your tits to him and holds it up against the base of your throat where he cradles the delicate column in his hand – the entire large span of him completely engulfing your smallness. “Your thighs are trembling, treasure. You’re going to do it just for me, aren’t you?.”
“Y–Yes, yes–”
He pushes your knee in his grasp wider, opening you more for the fileting of gaze. “Make yourself come – I want to see it. Fucking come,” it’s a demand you answer, just the sound of it causing the heat of your skin to seemingly ricochet even higher. You start to come – he watches the clenching of the muscles in your stomach as you grind your fingers deep. He can hear how wet you are, the sopping wet squelch of your pulsing cunt, and he worries for one second that he’s about to come in his pants.
You let out a reed high mewl, like you’re singing just for him. “What a good, good girl you are,” he praises, and your eyes flutter shut, pulling your fingers away so that he’s left to admire the clenching of your stretched hole. He can see the glossy shine of your slick sliding down the crevice of your ass, and he wants to lick through your sticky arousal so fucking badly he bites down on his cheek until he tastes blood. He bends his head to press his brow to the edge of the bed between your spread thighs, tightening his grip around your knee until you whimper in pain. He loosens his hold immediately, thumb brushing soothingly over the bend before he stands, lets out a long breath. He stares down at your panting, flushed form. Wet and sated after your orgasm. Fuck all the art in the world. He’d set fire to every single masterpiece he owns in this very moment if he was granted the gift of getting to watch you come even one single time more.
He passes his palm over his mouth, feeling the soft bristles of his scruff. He’d like to see the smooth insides of your thighs rubbed raw with it, he’d like to see the stretch of your cunt as he stuffs you full of himself, the milky white of his spend leaking from all your holes.
“It’s time to put you to bed,” he says instead.
Your brow creases in the sweetest little frown, red mouth puckering, still panting. “You’re not staying?”
“No, sweet girl. I think it’s best if you sleep here tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“But–”
“It’s alright. There’s no rush.” He leans over you to press a lingering kiss to your brow, pulls his shirt down to cover your breasts. You give him a little whimper, and he allows your hand to come up to clutch the thick swell of his bicep, the heavy muscle there bunching at the feel of your grip. He moves to help you settle beneath the silk duvet, pleased beyond belief at the sight of you tucked into a bed in his home, wearing his clothes, flushed and wearing the sated look of a recent orgasm.
“Goodnight, treasure.”
“Goodnight, Ezra.”
-
You find his room later. You can’t help yourself, following the glow of the soft light spilling between the crack of his slightly open door, like he’d left you a bread crumb trail to follow, like he knew you’d come searching. You can’t sleep knowing he’s so close, this dazzling creature come straight from a dream. Twisting and turning in the plush monstrosity of a bed he’d left you in. His shirt, butter soft, the dark, gray blue swimming around your much smaller frame. It smells like him, his cologne – you recognize the scent of Le Labo Another 13. Musky with the softest most subtle hint of jasmine, paired with something earthier – greener, and folded between all that: the soft saltiness of his sweat. Why would you sleep when a figure from your very fantasies was right here in the flesh. Your cunt clenches, wet and aching, even after he’d watched you make yourself come. You need more, want to feel the press of his cock inside of you, the heavy weight of it.
He’s sitting up in bed, reading something on an iPad, glasses propped low on his nose. He looks up at your small knock, not waiting for his permission to slip inside.
“I promise, I’ll be good.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I won’t touch you. We can put a pillow between us if you like.” You move towards the bed.
There’s a large stack of books sitting on his bedside table, flooded by the warm moss stained light of the antique Tiffany lamp. A single idiosyncrasy of old world charm in a room made stark by its bright modernity. The pile is made up of a book of paintings by Howard Hodgkin, the diaries of Alma Mahler, The Spectator Bird by Wallace Stegner, the fourth volume of In Search of Lost Time – you appreciate his excellent taste – and at the very top, laying open, facedown, as if he’d just put it down a moment ago, My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgaard. You find it fascinating to see a book that spoke of life in such a granular way — realistic, simple, a normal man in a normal world, speaking in such extensive, caring detail on the small things in his life — on the bedside table of this enigma, this person who seemed to be, by far and large, a different species to all other men you’d ever met before. To see the spine so cracked and worn — as if he’d read it over and over again, in search of the equation for that simplicity, to thus inject into his own existence – a way to embalm his own world in such appreciation for the small but infinitely significant moments. You wonder if it’s taught him much— if he’s been able to find and implement whatever it was he’d searched for through so many reads.
“Alright,” he says easily, but the look in his eyes is slightly wary. You recognize Glenn Gould’s rendition of the Goldberg Variations playing softly on the surround sound as you crawl into his bed – under the silk smooth sheets, bringing a pillow to blockade you from him, protect him. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable, but you desperately want to be close to him also. The two of you have barely talked tonight – too caught up in the observation of one another, like two animals circling in the wild. You want to talk to him. Want to hear the sound of his deep voice vibrate through your nerve endings.
“Intimacy is… difficult for me,” he says slowly, swallowing. “It’s hard for me to get close to people… emotionally, physically. I need time to — I suppose, to warm up to them.”
“That’s — that’s okay. I understand,” you say, because you do, because you’re the same in many ways.
“It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.”
“I think – I think I understand that as well. Something, perhaps, about the idea of a thing remaining as it was initially conceived as, for all time, undisturbed by outside influences.”
“Yes – yes, exactly.” His eyes are alive with the fire of being understood.
You look down at his straining erection. You can’t help it. “You’re hard,” you say. You want to touch him so badly it’s a physical ache inside of you.
“I’ve been hard since I first saw you.”
“Let me help.”
He shakes his head, “Not yet.”
“I was embarrassed that the other patrons would be able to tell how wet my pussy was lying there staring at you.” Shocking words. His eyes flutter shut, fuck, he murmurs under his breath, brings his hand up to rub at his jaw. You’ve noticed he does that a lot – a tell of sorts. He takes several deep breaths, the tension seeming to seep out of his body by sheer force of will.
You take him in as he settles back into the pillows, relaxing, or at least pretending to. His face, smooth and serene, laying there watching you, despite his heavy erection, but the look in his eyes – it’s also slightly provoking. As if he wants you to challenge him, question him, but also afraid, perhaps, that you’ll force his hand, that he’ll be forced to give in to what you both want before he’s ready. You decide to choose mercy – change the subject. More curious to see how he chooses to play this out.
“Let’s play the question game.”
“The question game?”
“Yes.”
“Very well,” he turns to lay on his side, facing you. Both of your hands are tucked beneath your cheeks. He’s wearing a soft, worn sweater, a tiny hole at the collar, the sleeves stretched and overly long. Oh, this may just be too much for you to handle.
“We’ll start with something easy – what’s your favorite color?”
“That’s easy?”
“Yes.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing.
“Depends on the day,” he says very seriously. His blinks are slow, his pupils huge and dilated in the warm light of the lamp. You wonder if he’s taken something. Every time he blinks the thick fringe of his lashes fans over his cheeks, the pause of his languor allows you a moment to appreciate them.
“That’s not an answer – you have to give a real answer.” You want to reach your finger out and brush along that thick fringe, through the patchy hair on his face, threaded through with the smallest hint of silver, stick your nose in his hair and smell him right at the source.
“It’s the only real answer there is – no one’s favorite color stays their favorite color forever.”
“Do you do this a lot?”
“What’s that?”
“Make things purposely difficult.”
A flash of his brilliant white teeth, “Oh, always.” You want very badly for him to bite into your flesh.
“Okay, fine. What’s your favorite color right now?”
Without hesitation: “The color of your eyes – they’re very strange,” you can tell it’s a compliment, and he finally touches you again. A single finger, just the tip, to the point of your chin, tilting your head back slightly for his inspection, as if you were one of the pieces in his collection. You think you may become one by the end of this. You think you’d like that very much. You can feel the slight edge of his fingernail dig into your soft skin.
“I already agreed to fuck you. You don’t have to woo me,” you breathe. You realize that, as of yet, he’s not overtly asked you to have sex with him – you throw the words out anyways, hoping to provoke him. This is too much. This man is too much. You don’t know what it is about him, but you want him desperately, like no one you’ve ever wanted before. You want him to overwhelm you – to take you by force. To take all choice and will and autonomy from your hands. You don’t care what will come of this, what will become of you after he’s done with you, if he discards you, forgets you – none of that matters. All you care about, in this moment, is that he finally decides to take you, that he gives you the opportunity to let go, to relinquish control. To unfold from the pose for just a moment. A slightly deranged spark fizzes in your belly. Your heart pinches a burning little pain at the thought that he hasn’t kissed you yet, that you still don’t know the taste of his mouth.
“None of my answers satisfy you. And yes, I do need to woo you. I find it very necessary.”
You try and emulate an unaffected scoff, his finger is still on your chin, but you feel your brow unwittingly fold into a confused frown. There is a tight knot of want coiled at the very center of you, burning hot and smoldering, and you need him to pick it apart with these strong fingers. He takes his hand away. The look on his face is very telling. He can read everything going on in your mind, you can tell. He looks like the cat that ate the goddamn canary. You try and take a deep, calming breath. “Alright, now you have to ask me one?” you divert.
“Me?”
“Yes, you – that’s how the game works. I do one, you do one.”
“Alright,” he’s quiet for a second, contemplating, “Do you have siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child. Do you?”
“I had a brother, Damon. He died when we were younger.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, well– it was a very long time ago. But thank you. His daughter, Cee, is my ward now. ” Not his niece, not someone mentioned in any capacity as his family. The connection, maintained as if at a distance — his ward — cold. But he gives himself away, his tender vulnerability made transparent, with the sudden flash of bright fondness in his eyes at her name, despite his trying to remain aloof. You are not so easily fooled. You see him despite his attempts to deflect from the true core of himself.
His gaze is so mercurial – at once relaxed, uncaring, and then flaring into something bright hot like a flash fire. But remote, remote always. Like the very center of him, his true gaze is very far away, very deep within him, and this gaze, the one he presents to the world, is merely a farce, a mask. A shroud he pulls over himself to keep others out. His own golden gossamer. You’re shocked that he’s shared this with you.
“My parents died when I was very young,” you offer, your own morsel of ragged soul in the face of his sudden vulnerability.
“I’m sorry to hear that, as well.”
“It wasn’t so bad, after the fact. I went to live with my aunt – my mother’s sister. She was a dancer. My childhood was… unconventional, but wonderful.”
“What about it was unconventional?”
You laugh a little, looking up at the coffered ceiling above you, the thick beams a rich, glossy mahogany. You feel his gaze on your face like a brand. He has not stopped looking at you since he first started. In a sea of years being observed, his gaze is singular in the pleasure it brings you.
“She was a dancer. I mean—” you hum, “What wasn’t unconventional about it? We lived in New York for several years, then Budapest for a time, and then she brought us here, to Paris, where we stayed until her death – where I’ve stayed since. Her girlfriends were always around – fellow dancers, costumes and makeup, drinking and men. They taught me how to smoke when I was eight — Gauloises like a fucking chimney, at all hours of the day, after that — I forced myself to stop a few years ago. Now I only have one on special occasions, sometimes.” He looks at you like he knows you’re the sort to make a special occasion out of a trip to the market. “She had many lovers. Parties… disaster everywhere, but the riotous, happy sort – not the tragic kind.”
“No?”
“No. Perhaps, to the outside eye it may have appeared different… I don’t know. No life for a child, I think. But it was wonderful. She always protected me. But– but never like a mother. She was never like a mother – more like – a friend, or an older sister.” You laugh fondly at the memories, but also a little sadly. In the eyes of an adult now, you’d never want such a life for a child of your own, as exciting as it was at the time.
“One time someone told me I ended up as I did, naked for the world to ogle at, as a means to earn money, because of her. Because of how she was. And perhaps they were right, but… but not in the way they meant — to insult me. She taught me what art was, gave me the means to turn myself into it.”
“Who the fuck said that to you?” His tone makes you look back at him now. All the mystery in his gaze is gone, only fury burns now – very clearly. If he’d let you, you’d cup his cheek, soothe him.
You can see he isn’t ready yet, though. So all you say is: no one that really mattered – the truth, but you can see that it does not soothe him.
“What about you? What was your mother like?” You can appreciate how easily distracted he pretends to be, the deception of it, merely another shroud.
Another one of his long pauses, filled with his eyes on you. He gives you the gift of his touch again. Thick fingers picking up a strand of your hair, running it between his grasp. You feel the slight ghost-like tingle of the tug along your scalp, there but also not, and a jerking shiver moves through you. All the hair on your body standing on end. Fuck, this man.
“She was very beautiful – very cruel,” he says slowly, mesmerized by your hair sliding through his fingers.
“Cruel to you?”
“To the world.”
“Why?”
“But also me.” Succinct in its truth. The thought is a terrible one – for anyone to have been cruel to this magnificent dream of a man. The backs of your eyes pinch. Another long pause. “Hmm,” he tilts his head side to side, still sliding your hair through his fingers, twisting it gently around his hair. He gives it a tiny tug, and you want to scoot forward, even just the smallest bit, just to be a little closer to him, to feel the brush of his belly against yours with the movement of his breathing. “It’s difficult to say – unhappiness, bitterness, boredom. A great and complicated concoction of things that made her into the eternally complex creature she was.”
“She died?”
“Yes. She killed herself.”
“Ezra– I’m so sorry,” the words leave you choked and breathless.
He says it so plainly, starkly, like a slap to the face, one not meant to cause pain or harm, but shock. One meant to cause fear, something to say, look at how fucked up I am, stay away or I’ll infect you with it too. You scoot closer now, you can’t help it, and he goes immediately still, frozen – eyes wide, hesitant, but you don’t touch him. Your hair is still clutched in his hand, and his eyes move back and forth between your own and his hold on you. You’re close enough now, though, that you can feel the heat rolling off his body. Your eyes flutter shut, you say again: “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“She was too vain to grow to old age.” You feel him relax, comforted by the indication that you’re not going to touch him just yet. “I think she felt it was the only recourse for her.”
You open your eyes again, and he’s still staring at you. You so badly want to know what he’s thinking, to feel the press of his mouth against yours, to know the taste of his tongue, the feel of his incisors pressing into your skin.
You pivot three-sixty again: “Do you want kids?” He lets out a loud barking laugh at that, head thrown back so the tendons in his neck jump out starkly. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Wet and jealous.
“This is a very difficult game,” he says, giving you a sly look.
“We don’t have to play anymore, if you don’t want to.” A great lie – you never want to stop playing with him.
“No, I want to keep going.” He slides his whole hand into your hair now, palm cupping the entire side of your head in its broad expanse, and you can’t help the desperate moan that claws out of your throat. His responding hum is all-knowing. “I don’t know. But I love being… I like being able to imagine it.”
Your mind has been lost to a daze induced by the heat of his palm. “Children?” you murmur.
“Yes.”
Your fingers are twisted into the front of your shirt, clawing at yourself to maintain respect for his boundaries. “I want them. Lots of them. I hated being an only child. I always felt alone. I want to have lots of babies.” And his eyes flare with heat at that. The first blazing sign of lust in them tonight. Everything else before this, you realize, was merely a low simmering boil. The fist in your hair tightens so that your head tilts back slightly, the line of your throat exposed for his eyes to follow.
“Lots of them?” You nod your head minutely, wide eyed, equally ensnared by that look in his gaze as you are by his hand.
“Then you shall have them, Sparrow.” You let out a shuddering breath, turn your face into the pillow, enjoying the slight pull to your sensitive scalp as his hand follows, try to breathe deep, temper your racing heart. You’re so wet, you can feel it seeping out of you in a constant throbbing stream. The conversation serving as a more intense form of foreplay than anything else you’ve ever done with a man.
“It’s my turn again. When was the last time you fucked someone?” Blunt – thrown at your face to throw you off kilter. Oh, he fucking loves this. A broken little whimper claws out of your throat at that. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel them burning, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. The smug look in his eyes taunts you, tells you he knows just how soaked you are. But it is also wild, as wanting as you are.
“Hmm?” he presses.
“Three years ago.” It’s his turn to be shocked now. You see the pause of surprise in that bright light within his gaze.
“Three years? Why?”
“You’re not the only one who finds it difficult to be close to people.”
“And yet you agreed to come here with me?”
“And yet I agreed to come here with you.” You don’t return the question. You wouldn’t like to know, you don’t think. And you can tell he sees that in your gaze, for he doesn’t offer up the information either. You like the mystique of him. Like some eldritch beast, a deity of old, something amorphous, not to be contained or understood. The unknowable aspect of him is appealing to you for reasons you haven't quite figured out yet, despite this game of questions you’re flirting with.
You go next: “Are you lonely?”
“Yes, very.” A pause, and then: “You are too.” This is no question. He can see it, recognizes the same scent of it that permeates the air around him, following you. “You seemed it, laying in the center of that crowded room, naked – bared for everyone to see.” It is not said cruelly. He is only telling you that which you already know about yourself, that which is plain for the whole world to see. ���And then shrouded in gold, as if you wanted to hide that vein of aloneness that flows through you – it didn’t work very well.”
“Do you think everyone could see it?”
“No.” Good. You only wanted him.
You take another turn, you can’t help but break the rules with him. “Have you ever been with someone who– who you didn’t really want to be with, but you were– you were so lonely and needed… something… or someone?” All the surety you’d posed your previous questions with is gone now. He’s already discerned so much of you, what’s a little more bared skin? “So you just– you just settled for being with that person even though you knew it was wrong, and the only thing on your mind was the other person you really wanted to be with?”
Without hesitation: “Yes.”
“I think that’s the only type of relationship I’ve ever had. Although, the other person hasn’t really existed – just – just something I’ve thought up in my own head.”
“I accidentally called her by the other person’s name. She never spoke to me again. It was terrible– terrible of me.”
“I want to touch you so badly,” you plead suddenly. Unable to hold it in anymore in the light of all he’s shared with you. Your voice cracking and begging. “I want you to touch me, so badly.”
“I know.” Yes, he does. “You want me to fuck you.” All you can do is let your eyes flutter shut, try to continue to breathe, nod your head.
“Why was your mother cruel to you? What did she do?” You feel like crying now.
“Many things… I had terrible night terrors as a child. Scared her half to death. I’d scream and cry and sleep walk. For years. She didn’t know what to make of me. Some sort of demon come from her very womb to possess and haunt her house. She hated me – would lock me in a closet furthest from her bedroom to keep my howling away from her.”
The blazing heat of anger floods your cheeks, your eyes filled with tears, and he clicks his tongue, smoothes his thumb over the slope of your cheek. “None of that, sweet girl.”
“You were just a little boy – she should have– she should have comforted you. Helped you.”
“It wasn’t in her nature. You cannot fault a thing for not being what it was never made to be. She was a killer of soft things – within herself, within me too, I think. Or she tried, at least. She tried to kill everything soft she came into contact with. But she did love me. In her own way – a wrong way, but she did. That comforts me immensely.”
“That she loved you even if it was the wrong way?”
He nods, “And that I loved her – despite all her flaws.”
“Why?”
“I… I appreciate the idea of being a bad person, and still being able to find someone to love you.”
“You’re a killer.” It is not a question for you already know the answer – you can see it in his eyes, it is his inheritance. You know that either way, it won’t make a difference to you.
“I am, indeed. But, are you?.” The soft curve of his cunning smile is so incredibly beguiling. The most tempting thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You shake your head, you’re not, you never have been. You think it must be very obvious at first glance, for the patronizing look he gives you as he asks anyways.
“Sometimes I can be very bad,” he whispers slowly, drags the tip of his finger over your shoulder, down the swell of your breast, stopping just shy of your peaked nipple, circling the point.
“What do you do?” your voice is breathless, beseeching.
He smooths his thumb over your bottom lip, pushes between to get inside, presses down on the hard edge of your bottom teeth to inspect the wet gleam of your tongue. “I steal beautiful things for myself–” His voice is like smoke – his confession fortuitous, on the verge of disappearing. His mystique enshrouds the both of you. You hope you disappear alongside him.
“Is that what you’re doing now? Stealing me?”
“Yes.”
“I think I like being stolen.”
-
He wakes, very late into the night, or very early in the morning, the confounding blue hue of the outside world seeping in through the heavy drapes over the tall windows. Shielding the two of you from the real world.
Your body is entirely draped over his own. You’ve invaded him in your sleep, taken over all the space and air and thought he’s ever possessed. The soft weight of your breasts presses into his chest, your head tucked in the hollow of his clavicle so that he can feel each pass of your damp breath wash over his throat and chin. He expects to feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, perhaps even disgusted, so much skin, so much heat, your legs intertwined with his – but all he can focus on is the fullness of your tits pressed up against him, the hot wet apex of your cunt against his thigh. You’re wet in your sleep for him – he can feel your dampness seeping through the silk of your extra panties.
One of your hands is curled over his shoulder and he brings it to his mouth, presses a kiss to the soft, small palm. His hand dwarfs yours, swallows it whole. He sucks each one of the tips of your fingers into his mouth, bites down as gently as he can. Your hips start to shift over him, needy cunt trying to unconsciously rub up against his thigh.
He’s going to fuck you now. His cock is hard, aching, leaking, balls heavy – has been for ages, but finally, finally his mind has caught up. Thank fuck.
He passes his palm down the smooth line of your back, pushes his t-shirt you’re wearing up your back to get to your skin. This lovely smooth back he’d spent almost an hour staring at in that gallery. He feels a terrible, unfounded curl of jealousy, once again, that anyone else in the world has ever gazed upon the magnificence that is your skin. He wants it to be only for him, he wants you to be only for him – to own you.
His hand moves down to clutch the full swell of your bottom, pushes under your panties to take a handful of your bare flesh. He bends his knee slightly to put more pressure on your core and starts to roll your hips over him. You let out a soft little moan, sleepy, so sweet.
“It’s time to wake up, Sparrow. I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Ezra–” you murmur, coming to. Your body seems to take stock of the situation before your mind does, little cunt suddenly grinding down more firmly onto his thigh. You let out a moan that goes straight to his cock. He grips your hips and flips you over, settling between the spread of your thighs, slotting his length into your wet cleft, he starts a slow rock that has his head pressing up and into your clit.
“Tell me how you want to be fucked.”
Your eyes are glassy, dazed and confused. He says again, “Tell me how you want to be fucked, or I will decide for you.”
And then your soft little voice, grabbing him by the balls and showing him that as sleepy or drowsy or small as you may appear, you’re still aware of the power you hold over him: “I think I’d like you to decide for me, please.”
Fuck– he deepens the pressure of his thrusts so that his tip presses into your opening over your panties. Your jaw is hinged open, panting wet breaths as you moan for him.
He sits back on his heels then, pulls his t-shirt up over your head and then slides your panties over your hips and down your legs, grips your knees to spread your legs wide for him.
He was right, your cunt is the same color as your nipples. Beautiful.
It’s drooling, begging for him, and oh, how that fills him with pleasure – for such a beautiful thing to desire him, as much as he desires it. He ghosts the back of his knuckles over your slit, using his thumbs to spread your lips wide – he bends for a taste, moans deep and long from his chest.
“Fuck, you’re so sweet. Do you want me to feed your cunt, baby?”
“Ezra, please – yes – I want it so bad.”
“I know, I could see – all night, I could see how hungry you were. I’m going to eat you now.”
Please, please.
He settles between your thighs. Soft little licks to your swollen clit, then down to thrust his tongue into your hole. He grips the back of one thigh to press it up and back into your chest, uses his other hand to press down low on your pelvis, gives you more pressure as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. He can feel the clench of your pussy around his tongue, the shake in your thighs. Your keening moans move through him, have him grinding his aching cock into the mattress. You’re going to come in his mouth, he can feel it, taste it, your slick running from you, sweet and musky, all for him.
Your hands clutch at his curls, pulling and tugging hard as you arch your back and start to orgasm. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra. It’s a litany, a benediction. You are a work of art come to life to sing into his ear.
He gentles his mouth over your quivering sex, laps slowly at your pulsing entrance. He wipes his mouth over the tender slope of your inner thigh and goes back to his knees, licks his palm of your wet as he watches your gaze on him.
He cradles your small foot in his hold. He likes the thought that he can grasp that which has carried you through your life, in his hand. For some reason, it fills him with immense pleasure, the feel of your soft foot, the thought of you walking through life, walking through the world, towards him, to find him. Always him, only him.
There is a wound in him, dark, and putrid, overwhelming his existence always. It was only through the cathartic fulfillment of holding a beautiful thing in his hands that he felt reprieved of the terrible thing. He feels that reprieve in this moment, with the delicate weight of your small foot cradled within his palm.
He brings it to his mouth and digs his thumb harshly into the elegant arch, forcing a moan out of you, deepening the curve of your spine, then drags his teeth along the instep, presses a soft kiss to your first toe. He can see the clench of your little hole at his ministrations, the flush of your skin from the peaks of your breasts to your cheeks.
Your breath is hitching, breasts quivering with your gasps. He bends to lick into your mouth, thin ankle still held in his grasp, finally, finally taking the taste of your tongue onto his own and you moan, wanton and desperate, your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him closer.
“I’m going to give you my cock now,” he presses into your skin, open mouthed kisses to your throat, your neck, your breasts. He nips a gentle bite to one swollen little nipple.
He grasps the base of his cock, passes his hand slowly from root to tip once, twice, and then presses the flushed head to your clit, grinds there for a moment, you jerk, then moves down to your hole, feeds you just the tip. You cant your hips, try and take him deeper, but he holds back, pulls out and moves back up to circle your clit again, and then back down again to press inside. “No, no, no, Ezra, please – I need it so badly – so badly.” He watches a tiny tear, track down your temple and back into your hair, and he gives you the entire thick length of him at that, fucks inside, all the way to the end of you.
“There? How’s that?” He presses a kiss to your breast, sucks it into his mouth. The taste of you is godly. “Is that better, needy thing?”
“So good – so good,” you sigh. Stretching your arms high above your head, arching your back to let him in deeper.
“Fuck, yes–” he groans. He sits back on his heels, grips your hips and starts to give it to you hard. The strong swing of his hips causing the soft jiggle of your tits with every thrust. Your eyes are closed, lashes fluttering, soft mouth open and wet. So fucking beautiful.
“Will you let me fuck your ass too?” Your head is already nodding, all rational thought currently being fucked out of you. “You will, won’t you?”
“Yes, yes – anything you want.”
“Good girl.”
He changes the angle, fucks up into that spongy devastating part of you he plans to own after this is done, and he starts to feel the tight pull of your inner muscles working to suck him deeper. “That’s it, beautiful, just like that. Taking me so wonderfully.”
“God– I– I’m–” you press your palms to his belly and he brings one of your ankles up to his shoulder, presses a kiss to the bone.
“God isn’t here right now – just me–” He grits his teeth, gives it to you harder. He can feel his orgasm start to pool, hot and liquid, at the base of his spine, balls drawing up tight.
“Give me another, Sparrow, one more. Need to feel it around my cock,” spit through clenched teeth.
“Oh, fuck – that’s so good,” you moan, and then you’re milking him, pulling his come out of him with the tight wet clutch of your muscles.
“Fucking perfect, yes – just like that.” He lets his head roll back on his neck, hand grasping your ankle as he fills you.
-
He watches you eat your pain au chocolat. Sitting in the warm morning sun of the observatory. Tiny bites of the flaky sweet bread, dollop of chocolate sitting at the corner of your mouth that he plans to lick off in a second. He is mesmerized. He knows, empirically, he probably looks like a fucking creep, staring you down as he is, but he can also see the subtle preen in your gaze when you glance up at him every so often. You enjoy this part of your play as much as he does, so it seems. The watching.
“Will you let me take you somewhere today?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Brazil? I’d show you the farm.”
You swallow, the most guileless eyes he’s ever beheld, shining in the light. “Brazil? Really?”
“Of course, treasure. Or anywhere you want. Your happiness is mine to watch over now. I would do anything for you.” As he says it, he can tell, you did not lie when you said you’d like to be stolen.
#ezra prospect#ezra prospect x reader#ezra prospect fic#ezra prospect x you#ezra prospect fanfiction#prospect 2018#prospect fic#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#ezra prospect smut
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