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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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Rubies in the Dark LUCIFER x gn!Reader 4.9k Words | NSFW | Medieval Fantasy AU | Dubious Behaviour Content Warnings: Dark Elvish Prince!Lucifer x Alchemist!Reader. Contains descriptions of monsters, magic and blood/gore/violence; minor injury; implied stalking, breaking and entering, invasion of privacy; dream magic, dream sex, mutual masturbation, implied somnophilia. (Also, shameless references to Warcraft lore because it inspired the worldbuilding for this story.) A/N: This is my fic for @bizarrebankai's 1k Follower Collab! 💙

It’s been nearly five years since you left your family’s small farm to create a new life in Hillsbrad Foothills. You didn’t have any weapons' training and you weren’t magically gifted. Some of your childhood friends were, and they were able to move away to pursue new adventures, leaving you behind. Your family expected you to accept your boring country life, but you knew you wanted more. Disappointment and heartbreak finally motivated you to pack your meager belongings and set off on your own adventure.

You might not be a warrior or mage, but your new freedom gave you the opportunity to explore and study your true passion for alchemy. Your small cottage is located in one of the villages near the Alterac Mountains. Most of the villagers are hunters, gatherers, or tradesmen.

You make a comfortable living trading your alchemy creations to the other villagers. The foothills are an abundant source of some of the most useful flowers and herbs for crafting utility potions and healing elixirs. You don’t like to let things go to waste; the discarded plants you can’t use are milled and turned into ink that you supply to the local constable and village leaders.

In exchange for your services, they provide you with clothing and food and other useful goods. Your life is lonely, but it’s comfortable. Time has healed old wounds and very rarely is your mind plagued with doubt and regret; you know you’re better off without your unsupportive family and the weak-willed ex-lover you left behind.

Today was surprisingly busy and you were in your alchemy lab all morning. The weather started to turn and you saw clouds rolling over the hills when you peeked out the window. You glance at your herb reserves hesitantly and wonder if you have enough time to gather some more before the storm comes.

One of the village’s recent hunts ended bloodier than usual–there weren't any deaths, but more hunters were seriously wounded than normal. You were more than eager to provide them with potions to accelerate their recovery, but most of your supplies have run out as a result.

The wildlife in the foothills has become exceedingly aggressive. There aren’t many visitors to these quiet lands. There are rumors circulating the village of suspicious travellers conducting experiments with local animals and plant life along the region’s uninhabited borders. They talk about rabid animals and foliage overrun with disease, but you’ve been fortunate not to come across anything like that yourself.

The foothills aren’t easily accessible and are used mainly as a thoroughfare to other regions. There’s only one main road travelers can use to bypass the mountains: the eastern road leads into the valleys and the sea beyond; or the western road that winds up through Silverpine Forest, a thick and dark place nestled along the mountain range.

You’ve heard stories about Silverpine Forest, too–or the Demon’s Forest, if suspicious townsfolk are to be believed. Some people say that monsters hunt along the road at night. If the legends are true, they capture weary travelers and unsuspecting hunters and drag them to their demise in the dark, never to be seen or heard from again. This land might be home to magical and wondrous things, but even you doubt that the stories are true.

Regardless of what you believe, you try to be cautious when you go out to collect herbs on your own. You attach a long knife to your belt before you slip on your cloak, although it is more useful for trimming leaves and brances than for protection.

You bite your lip and glance nervously at the sky. The clouds overhead threaten rainfall, but you think you have enough time to restock some of your depleted resources. You slip out of your little cottage and follow the stone path to the main road heading west.

Today’s harvest is productive and uneventful. These foothills are an excellent source of Briarthorn and Silverleaf, some of the most potent herbs you use regularly. You’ll be able to provide the local healers with more elixirs with extras to spare.

You don’t normally venture this close to the western border, but you naturally follow the most abundant patches of herbs and it led you there. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but you’re still eager to return to your cottage before it gets too late.

You set along the path that will lead you home when a strange sound carries on the wind and catches your attention. It doesn’t sound human, but you recognize the whimpers and whines of a creature in pain. You take a hesitant step off the main road, and then another, until you’re walking slowly, carefully, through the grass towards the noise.

The unusual sounds lead you down a deep, sloping hill towards one of the region’s abandoned mines. You shiver from the sudden drop in temperature–something about the air in this area feels unsettling and desolate, and it sets your nerves on edge. The pained noises come from just inside the opening of one of the mining tunnels. You peek around the corner carefully, and you spot some sort of wounded animal.

At a first glance, you think it might be a type of bear, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer. It’s stuck in a tangled mess of thick, white webbing that pins it to the ground. The beast raises its head when your leather boot disturbs some loose stones, and its eyes–or is that two pairs of eyes?–blink at you. The beast is still whimpering in pain, but a low growl echoes around you now, too.

You hold up your hands and show the beast you mean it no harm. It sniffs the air curiously and the growling fades, which you interpret as a sign that it’s safe to approach. You kneel at the beast’s side and examine the webs trapping the poor animal in place. You stroke its furry back soothingly as you slowly cut away the thinner sections of webbing, but the thicker ropes along the beast’s back are too tough for your knife to hack through.

You’re so distracted by your task that a new sound startles you and makes your blood run cold; the beast starts to growl louder and more menacing than before. There’s a hissing noise approaching you from deep within the mine. The flurried sound of skittering limbs echo off the stone walls. Dozens of yellowish eyes seem to float in the darkness further down the tunnel from you and the beast.

It appears that the mines are home to a nest of overgrown spiders. The spiders are nothing like what you’ve seen before: they’re nearly as tall as you are and much wider. They have gnarly limbs and strange, pulsing growths jutting from their backs.

You have no weapons except for your knife, and it’s a poor substitute for a proper sword or axe–not that you could wield either of those successfully, even if you had one. The beast struggles to break free of its bindings next to you, but its limbs are still immobilized by the webs.

You don’t want to run and leave the beast to a bloody fate, but you don’t want to be devoured by the monsters approaching you either. You’re paralyzed by indecision and fear. You remember the stories of suspicious individuals creating abominations from nature in their wake. You didn’t want to believe the rumors were true; you didn’t think this is how you would die.

Something knocks into your back, and you yell in fright as you’re pushed aside. You’re afraid that a monster ambushed you from behind, but instead you see a tall figure wearing leather hunting gear underneath a long, dark cloak.

Whoever it is stops and examines the beast closely, and a male voice speaks to it in a strange language you don’t understand. He pats the beast’s heads–all three of them– before he approaches the swarm of spiders. He doesn’t hesitate to draw a long steel blade, and you stare in horror as he marches towards certain death.

“Hey, wait, don’t–!” you try to warn the stranger. You realize very quickly that your warning was not wanted or needed.

It’s not a battle so much as it is a slaughter. His movements are graceful but quick, and they’re difficult for you to follow. He darts a path through the monsters, his sharp weapon slicing through the air and cutting them down effortlessly. Frenzied, monstrous shrieks and hissing fill the air; the sound of flesh slicing and squelching blood makes you nauseous. The musty mine air grows heavy with the hint of copper. You clench your eyes shut and cover your ears.

Eventually, the sounds of carnage fade into nothingness, and all you can hear now is the wild thumping of your heartbeat. When you open your eyes, the hooded stranger is standing near the beast’s side once more. His sword drips black-red ichor from the slain spiders, and he wipes the blade clean. He cuts through the webbing so the beast can finally stand up properly. It reminds you of an enormous dog as it shakes its dark fur. Its heads each try to lick at the stranger’s face, and you hear a soft huff of amusement; it nearly makes you smile, despite everything you’ve just gone through.

The stranger finally seems to remember your presence and turns to face you. Most of his face is shrouded in darkness with his hood still up, but you know he’s staring at you. His attention feels weighted, almost suffocating. His aura is intense and you’ve seen for yourself he’s capable of ruthless bloodshed, but for some reason, you don’t feel afraid.

His head tilts questioningly. “Why?” his smooth voice asks quietly. “Why did you stop to help him?”

“I wanted to,” you reply honestly. You cringe when you realize how naive it sounds. You could’ve died, and you probably would have died, if not for the traveler’s excellent timing.

You don’t know what to say, and neither does he judging by his icy silence. Something catches your eye when you take a better look at his clothing. There’s a gash on his arm, and the thin material of his tunic is already soaked with blood from the wound. “You’re hurt,” you point out worriedly.

He looks at his arm like he didn’t even notice he was wounded, but he startles when you approach him without hesitation. “What do you think you’re–?” the stranger demands, but he only makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away from you.

You shake your head to silence his complaints and focus on his injury. You normally carry a small assortment of bandages in one of your pouches, pre-soaked with healing elixir, and you unwrap one and press it to his arm. You wrap it around the wound as gently as you can.

“I make these myself,” you explain to him quietly. You move the ripped fabric of his shirt aside, and your fingers brush against his bare skin. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you pause tying the bandage in place. “Is it too tight?”

Even with his hood up, you can tell he’s shaking his head. “No, no–it’s fine."

When you’re satisfied with your work, you step back and give him some space. The man seems to be focused on his arm now, and the strange tension between you makes you nervous. Before you can think of anything else to say, rumbling thunder booms in the distance outside the mine and you look over your shoulder. The sky is even darker now, and only the barest hints of sunlight peek through the clouds.

You suddenly feel the tingling sensation of magic in the air. You turn around to ask the man if he lives nearby and what his name is, but he and his beast are gone. You scan the tunnel as far as your eye can see, but nothing else remains except for the plagued spider creatures the traveler killed to save you.

More thunder booms, louder and closer than before, and you rush from the mine. You see no sign of the man or his beast, but the storm brews on the horizon. You have no choice but to continue the journey home as quickly as you can and hope that they’re safe now too.

The villagers are on high alert after you inform them of the monstrous spiders you encountered near the western border of the region. You leave out the details of meeting the cloaked stranger and his three-headed beast.

Your thoughts drift to them often in the days that pass since that tense encounter. The traveler must be a gifted magic user if he was able to teleport them both away so easily. You feel the pang of envy when you think of your nonexistent magical skills, but you remind yourself that you’re an accomplished alchemist instead. You’ve honed your talents and found your own purpose in life; you don't need anything else.

Sometimes when you walk to town to buy supplies, or when you tend to the small garden of herbs near your cottage, you feel uneasy. You glance around nervously when the sensation of being watched makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You call out nervously and ask who’s there, but no one answers. The silence feels anticipatory somehow, and you wonder what it means.

The next morning you stumble tiredly from your room after a restless sleep. You think a warm cup of tea will help, but you freeze when you realize there’s a man in your house. His back is facing you while he looks over the alchemy texts and storybooks on your shelf. He turns to you properly when he hears your startled yelp of surprise.

The man looks like no one you’ve ever seen before. Black hair streaked with grey falls over his intense ruby-coloured eyes. He wears a silver circlet adorned with black opals. His black regalia is perfectly tailored and looks expensive. The dark fabric is accented with gold and red threads that almost seem to glitter in the sunlight shining through your window. His cloak is lined with fur, and his black leather boots are shined to a high polish. He clears his throat and tugs on the cuff of his gloves, almost like he’s nervous. Whoever the stranger is, he looks regal and important and painstakingly out of place in your humble cottage.

You should be afraid that a stranger broke into your home and looked through your belongings while you were sleeping in the next room unaware. However, there’s something familiar about him that you can’t place at first. You suddenly think of a three-headed beast and the cloaked stranger that saved you both, his pale, sharp jawline peeking below the shadow of his hood–

You realize the man before you is the swordsman from the mine, and he nods his confirmation when you ask him if he's one and the same. Your gaze lingers on his intense red eyes and the pointed tips of his ears, and he explains that he lives deep in Silverpine Forest with the elves. He tells you that he’s the crown prince of his kind, and he’s here because he owes you a debt of gratitude.

He looks visibly irritated when you tell him repayment of any kind isn’t necessary. Shouldn’t you be repaying him since he saved your life? But there’s a pink flush blooming across his cheeks despite his offended expression, and all he says is that it’s complicated. Apparently, risking your life to save elvish royalty–or his pet–is a big deal.

You rub your arms nervously and ask what he means. You’re expecting him to offer some sort of compensation, like gold or rare goods, and you plan on refusing all of it. What you don’t expect is for him to ask permission to court you. His eyes are serious and they blaze angrily when you burst into laughter at his proclamation.

(He doesn’t tell you that his brothers noticed his increasingly distracted behaviour the days following your fateful encounter. He washed the bandage you gave him and kept it for sentimental reasons he can’t even articulate properly. He can’t look at Cerberus without remembering how close he came to losing his beloved companion, or how brave you were to try to save him yourself. He thinks of how kind you were when you tended to his wounded arm and how gently you touched him–no one's ever touched him like that before.

He thinks about the spies he sent to your cottage to learn more about you, and how he grew too eager and started watching over you himself. He thinks about your reputable alchemy skills and kind nature, and how respected you are in your small village. He thinks about your potential, and how he can offer you so much more, if you’ll give him the chance.)

In the awkward silence that follows, you realize he isn’t joking and he's waiting for your response. You don’t mean to offend him, and you apologize profusely, but he can’t seriously expect you to accept such a proposal so easily, right?

But you think about your quiet isolation with only fleeting acquaintances among the townspeople to keep you company. You think about the world beyond the foothills that you pretend doesn’t exist. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up in another isolated prison of your own making.

Were you craving a sense of adventure when you let a strange beast’s cries lead you astray from the safest path home? What could someone like an elvish prince offer someone like you?

The world, a treasonous voice whispers in your mind. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eye, you’re not sure whether that voice was yours or his.

You explain to him as gently as you can that you can’t accept such a bold offer of courtship, but you would be happy to accept an offer of friendship instead.

He readily agrees with your counter-proposal, and you wonder what you’re missing that makes him look so pleased; he looked ready to attack you for wounding his pride only moments ago. He refuses your offer to stay longer and visit, but he assures you that you’ll see him again soon. You stop him before he leaves when you realize you don’t even know his name.

My name is Lucifer, he tells you warmly. There’s an unreadable smile teasing his lips, and he offers you a murmured farewell before he disappears in a ripple of magic.

You ignore the curious voice inside your mind that wonders how long he'll make you wait before he visits again.

It’s been nearly a week since Lucifer visited your cottage and turned your world upside down. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve made a mental note to ask him what friendship means to elvishkind. It almost seems like he completely ignored your rejection of his offer to court you.

Each morning when you wake, you find some sort of gift in your sitting room: a vase of rare wildflowers, silver jewelry fashioned similarly to the circlet he wore, a new cloak lined with soft fur that looks suspiciously like his own.

You pick up today’s gift–a heavy, leatherbound book about plants and herbs with blank pages at the end for keeping notes. You recognize some of the drawings on the pages: those plants don’t grow in the foothills, but you know they grow in abundance within Silverpine Forest where Lucifer lives, that cheeky devil.

These tokens feel too intimate for the early stages of blooming friendship, but you suspect he knows that. Is he so arrogant that he thinks your affections can be won so easily despite your initial protests?

(Or does he know that despite your protests, you enjoy all his thoughtful gifts? He’s so considerate of your interests and passions. It’s difficult not to be flattered that someone as interesting and handsome as him would be determined to impress someone like you.)

Your cottage starts to feel different as it fills with gifts the elvish prince brings you while you sleep. It’s almost like he leaves hints of his unique magic on purpose for you to find. You catch whiffs of the smoky-sweet fragrance he wears as you walk through the halls, and you can't help but think of him when you do.

Sometimes you still feel like you’re being watched, but the sensation feels friendlier somehow, rather than invasive and alarming. When you look out your window in the evenings and stare into the thicket behind your cottage, you can almost imagine the flash of blood-red eyes staring back at you.

You’ve been using the book Lucifer gave you as a type of journal. It’s become an intimate confession of your wonder and your fears and doubts. You write about regret and hope and opportunities for new beginnings. You think about friendship and the potential for more, and you wonder how it might feel to wake up in a bed warmed by someone that loves you. You haven’t wanted these sorts of things in a very long time. You’re not sure whether to thank or curse the elvish prince for filling your head with such desperately beautiful ideas.

The next morning, you wake up and find another gift: a glass jar filled with fragrant tea leaves. The unique blend smells earthy and herbal and slightly sweet. You hold the jar to your chest and glance at your journal on the writing desk. It’s open to the last page you wrote on, but you know you closed it before you went to bed last night. Realization dawns on you: Lucifer wanted you to know that he read it, and now he knows all your conflicted thoughts about him.

You boil water and make a cup of tea with the leaves he gave you. You step outside into the early morning sunlight and sip your drink thoughtfully. The familiar feeling of eyes on you returns, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

You dream of Lucifer for the first time that night. It feels like your consciousness is floating amongst soft clouds. You feel weightless and protected and cared for. You can’t see him–not at first, anyway–but you know he’s there with you. His familiar scent is so strong you can almost taste it, and you recognize the deep, teasing timber of his voice when his quiet chuckle echoes all around you. You know it’s not real, but it feels like strong arms cradle you in a warm embrace and it feels so wonderful.

Wakefulness disturbs the tranquility of the dream, and you see one last flicker of red eyes before you sit up in your bed, wide-awake and breathless. You rub your eyes and squint as the morning sunshine filters in the gap of your curtain and bathes your room in light. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you realize he left his next gift in your room this time: a deep-red rose fully in bloom and tied with a black ribbon, placed next to your pillow while you dreamt of him.

Whatever is happening between you and Lucifer continues to grow more intense as days pass. Every night when you sleep, he visits you in your dreams like he knows your resistance to him is crumbling. His dream-self doesn’t really speak to you, except for deep sighs that sound like your name when he holds you against his chest. Sometimes his fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, and you can feel his warm, damp breath fan against your nape as his nose brushes against your neck.

His presence fades away when you wake up with the morning sun, and your new gift from him waits somewhere nearby. The traces of his magic seem to linger and grow stronger each time he visits you in your room. It almost feels possessive, like he’s leaving his mark on you so you can’t possibly forget him. It’s a constant reminder of who he is and what he wants from you.

His gifts become more intimate over time, too–a box filled with rare candied nuts and creamy chocolates, a bottle of rare fruit wine, a delicately woven blanket for your bed. Today’s gift is the most extravagant yet: a black silk robe with gold and red embroidery. It’s similar in style to the royal regalia he wore when he came to your home for the first time. The underlying significance of that doesn’t escape your notice.

You set the robe aside while you dress in your normal attire and carry on with your work for the day. Time passes in a blur as you grind herbs to make potions, and you mill the discarded parts into pigment for ink. When you head to the village to deliver the finished goods, you feel his intense gaze on you from somewhere nearby; he must realize by now that the bashful smile you try to smother is meant for him.

A strange feeling of anticipation has been building inside you all day. You get ready for bed that evening and take off your clothes. It’s almost like you can’t stop yourself when you slip on the robe he gave you in place of your usual sleepwear. The significance of wearing this to bed, and only this, doesn’t escape you either.

You don’t normally think about your appearance or attractiveness, but wearing something that he made specially for you feels like a type of seduction. The robe feels so soft and sensual against your naked skin, and you realize this is what it feels like to be desirable. The robe is loose across your chest and near the gap between your legs when you lay down. The thin fabric leaves tantalizing strips of bare skin exposed in the cool night air.

When you fall asleep, you realize immediately that tonight’s dream is different. You’re laying flat on something soft, and someone’s body cages you beneath theirs. You recognize the red glint of his eyes as the shadows fade away from his face. He braces himself on one arm while the other tugs at the fastening keeping your robe closed.

Mine, he whispers. His hand pauses, waiting for permission.

Yours, you whisper back.

Once he has your consent, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way to his primal instincts. He leans forward and kisses you as your robe falls open completely and you’re finally bare to him. His hands and mouth claim every inch of your body for himself. He’s gentle and slow as he explores you. The crimson eyes you once feared are molten with greedy affection for you and you alone. He makes a trail of open-mouthed kisses and small, suckled bruises across your skin.

When he's reached the edge of his control, he surges back up your body and captures your lips in another heated kiss. He slides his hand between your legs and teases the edge of your arousal. He nips gently at your skin when you bare your throat to him, and he smiles wickedly at the first soft sigh that escapes you.

He groans when you explore his chest and glide along his tapered waist until you find the hardening length grinding against your hip. His cock is hard and heavy in your hand, and he growls deep in his chest as you begin to stroke him. His fingers are relentless and you move together, stroking each other in a hot, desperate haze that threatens to consume you both.

He whispers sweet praise into your ear when you fall apart beneath him, and he gasps and moans your name when he comes too. Your hands are both stained as his release mixes with your own. The inside of your thighs are wet and sticky, and your chest heaves while you catch your breath.

He maneuvers you so he’s laying behind you. He wraps an arm possessively around your waist. It may only be a dream, but you swear you’ve never felt so good. You feel relaxed and content and your eyes slip closed.

Stay, you whisper into the strange, ethereal silence of the dreamscape. He grows still behind you for a moment, but he brushes a kiss against your bare shoulder and you know what his answer is.

Something suddenly jolts you into wakefulness. It’s still early in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. You feel so warm, but you realize it’s because of a heavy weight against your back. A strong, muscular arm is draped over your waist and nimble fingers trace abstract shapes on your belly. The familiar tingle of magic and the scent of honeyed smoke surrounds you. The evidence of his desire for you still clings to your thighs, sticky and not quite dry.

“Mine?” his sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

You relax deeper into his arms and smile when he nuzzles against you. “Yours.”

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 8 months

Note

If it is possible, I would like to request a smut from Agatha using a magic strap in reader pls

pairing: agatha harkness x reader

summary: pure smut. keep some holy water nearby.

content warnings: smut, choking, magic strap-on, overstimulation, passing out, magic restraints, throat fucking, use of the word mommy, slight sadism - Agatha ofc

word count: 3.2k+

masterlist

Photo Cred: Me

Desperation

A hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing as a pair of swollen lips chased your own. You were panting, the sundress you’d picked out that morning was bunched around your hips as a sturdy body pressed against you.

“So desperate tonight, aren’t you?”

Agatha’s voice was teasing, but you heard the undercurrent huskiness that signaled her own arousal. Groaning, you reached your arms around her neck, burying your fingers in her curly hair. Pressing your lips against hers roughly, you sucked harshly at her bottom lip, smirking at the strained gasp that escaped.

“I don’t see you complaining.” You remarked, slightly breathless as you pulled away briefly. Agatha made a noise of frustration as your lips disconnected from hers, and pushed you further into the wall, trapping you between it and her body. You decided to stoke the fire, tugging sharply at her hair before attaching your lips to her neck.

A low moan ripped from Agatha’s throat, and her hand tightened around your throat dangerously. You couldn’t be bothered to respond, though, and nibbled gently at the skin you’d just marked. Running your tongue up the column of her neck, you gathered the slightly salty taste as you made your way towards her ear.

“Besides, you’re to blame for my desperation.” You said, biting softly at the sensitive spot below Agatha’s ear and smiling at the shaky breath she took. You knew that you were a few words away from further punishment, but couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d been in a constant state of arousal for the entire day, and now that Agatha was here, you could barely hold yourself back from humping her leg as you sought relief.

Before you could continue, a single hand snaked its way up your body, leaving behind a blazing trail over your sensitive skin before it found purchase on the back of your head. Tugging harshly, Agatha wrenched your lips from her skin, pressing your head firmly against the wall as her hips pinned the rest of your body.

The touch nearly drove you insane, your eyes rolling back slightly as waves of arousal shot through you. Your nerves felt like they were on fire, as each puff of hot air that Agatha let out seemed to wrap around your skin, sending bolts of electricity straight to your core. The fingers at your throat sent your brain into a wonderful state of fuzziness, and the weight of her body pressing against your own caused a high pitched whine to escape you.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes shot open, and the sight of Agatha’s darkened blue eyes staring at you nearly made you orgasm on the spot. You felt a rush of wetness pool in your already dampened underwear, and were suddenly grateful for Agatha’s body keeping you standing. Without her, your knees would have already buckled, and the night had only just started.

“Yes ma’am.” You replied, your response time slightly delayed.

Blue eyes narrowed at the tardiness of your words, but the sight of your lips parted as your pupils rapidly dilated was enough for her to forgive you. Quickly releasing your throat and hair from her hold, Agatha gripped your wrists from where they rested on her shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indents in the soft skin as she moved them above your head. The new position allowed you some movement in your upper body, and as Agatha looked down at you with lidded eyes, you arched your back.

At the sensation of your breasts brushing against her own, Agatha growled. You smirked, and her eyes flashed. Your smirk disappeared, your eyes widening as Agatha gripped your wrists with a single hand, using the other to grip your hair tightly and tilt your head up.

“Fuck.” You breathed, gasping for air as her teeth sank into your skin. She chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that had you whimpering for more. Her hips rolled against yours as she alternated between biting your skin and running her hot tongue over the sensitive marks she created.

Jerking your hips against her as she bit into a particularly sensitive spot near your collarbone, you gasped at the feeling of a bulge. Rolling your hips once more, you felt Agatha smirk against your overheated skin as your clit grazed the sizable package nestled in her pants.

“Are you packing?” The words got stuck in your throat as Agatha pressed her hips firmly against your core, the damp fabric of your underwear making it easy for you to rub yourself against her bulge. This time, Agatha pulled away before you could relieve some of the unbearable aching between your legs, and you stared at her with wide, pleading eyes as a tendril of her magic twisted your wrists behind you.

Pointing towards the ground, Agatha uttered a single word. “Kneel.”

You dropped to your knees so quickly that you felt the bruises form almost immediately. Wincing, you looked up at Agatha. Your breath caught as you felt another wave of arousal shoot through you. From this angle, she looked practically regal, with her strong jawline and deft fingers undoing her belt as her darkened eyes pierced your own.

“Do you deserve this, hon?” Agatha asked, her voice raspy as she pulled the thick strap-on from the confines of her slacks. She groaned slightly as she slowly pumped it in her fist, and your eyes widened as you realized that she’d enchanted the strap.

“No ma’am, I don’t deserve it.” You said, your eyes glued to the strap-on as Agatha lewdly stroked its length. You licked your lips, glancing up to see her lips parted as she watched you. “Let me make it up to you? Please?”

Evidently, your answer was enough, and before you could register what was happening, the strap-on was pressed against your lips. You opened your mouth, moaning around the warm silicone as Agatha slowly pressed her length further inside you. Her fingers gripped the side of your head, her other hand on the wall supporting her as she watched her strap disappear down your well-trained throat.

Moaning openly at the sensation of your hot mouth taking her, she raised a single eyebrow in a silent question. At your responding smile, which looked absolutely adorable with her strap inside your mouth, she started moving.

The sound of her soft grunts filled the space between you, and you let out a moan of your own as you looked up and saw her scrunched up face. The sound of her strap sliding in and out of your throat sounded almost pornographic, and if the increased speed of Agatha’s thrusts told you anything, she loved it.

Gagging slightly, you struggled against the magic holding your wrists behind you. You wanted to rest your hands against her thighs, or around her waist, really anything that would offer you some stability. However, with a single sharp glance, Agatha let her disapproval be known at your attempts to escape her hold. The hands in your hair tightened, and within seconds you felt tears well up at the brutal pace she set.

Your head was gently hitting the wall with each thrust, and you breathed through your nose as Agatha used your throat for her own pleasure. Her head was thrown back, and you admired the strong muscles of her neck as you gazed up at her with watery eyes. She kept you there for a few solid minutes, only pulling out once your need for air overcame your desire to please her.

Coughing slightly, you bowed your head. “Did I do a good job?”

Agatha reached down, cupping your jaw as she tilted your face back up. “Yes, hon. Mommy’s very proud of you, and she thinks you deserve a reward.” She smirked at the light that entered your eyes. What an adorable little pet she had, one that jumped at any opportunity to please her and melted at the barest hints of praise.

Pulling you to your feet, Agatha released the tendril of magic that bound your wrists. You sighed in relief, placing your hands around her shoulders for balance as she walked the two of you backwards. Leaning in, your swollen lips found hers, and you kissed her like a woman starved. Nevermind the dull ache in your jaw, you simply couldn’t get enough of the woman.

Pressing a firm hand against your sternum, Agatha pushed you away after a brief but passionate kiss. Her eyes glinted as she silently spun you around, your gaze drooping to the table in front of you. At the nudge between your shoulder blades, you gulped as you lowered yourself onto the cool wood.

“Stay.” Agatha ordered, her voice raspy with need.

Sharp nails traced the backs of your thighs, and you shuddered as wisps of purple magic guided your hands to grip the edge of the table. Without any warning, your sundress disappeared, and you briefly wondered where Agatha had magicked it off to before probing fingers distracted you.

“God, you’re so wet for me.” Agatha said, mostly to herself as her eyes watched her fingers pull away from your pussy, a glistening strand of arousal stretching between them. You moaned, and her eyes snapped up towards your head, taking in your submissive pose with pride.

“Is this all for me?” Agatha crooned, waiting until you’d opened your mouth to respond before thrusting two fingers into you harshly.

A gasp left your aching throat, and you rested your damp forehead against the rapidly heating wood below you. “Yes mommy, it’s all for you. Only for you.”

Agatha smiled widely at that, her fingers curling against that sensitive spongy spot inside you as a reward for your good behavior. She let her other hand wander up your bare back, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck before dragging her fingernails across your skin. She admired the red lines that stretched from your neck to your hips, tracing over them with soft fingertips as you moaned unabashedly below her.

“Please, mommy.” You didn’t really know what you were asking for. The only thing you could think of was how good it finally felt to have some of the aching pressure between your legs disappear. And the only person who could make that happen was Agatha. Then again, she was the reason for the aching pressure in the first place, but whatever.

A sharp thrust returned your wandering focus back to the present moment. You could feel Agatha’s hot breath against your dampened skin, her lips tantalizingly close to your marked neck. “Please… what? Mommy can’t help you if you don’t communicate clearly, hon.”

Her words were teasing, and you whined. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to think, much less form a proper string of words together, and she knew that. Then again, Agatha had a sadistic streak a mile long, so you should have seen it coming.

“Please,” You interrupted your own sentence with a drawn out moan as Agatha’s other hand started rubbing fast circles over your clit. You let your head drop with a clunk against the table as you felt a wave of wetness coat her thrusting fingers. Agatha laughed cruelly, and you took a soldiering breath.

“Your cock.” You moaned, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm creep up. “I want your cock mommy, please.”

Agatha’s fingers slowed, and you tried not to show too much relief when she pulled her fingers fully from you. Hearing a low moan from behind you, you panted at the thought of her cleaning her fingers of your juices. The thought was too tempting, and you twisted your head around.

Catching a glimpse of Agatha, you admired her muscular torso, realizing that she must’ve pulled her shirt off at some point. She had her fingers in her mouth, her eyes slightly closed as she sucked. Her other hand stroked her strap-on with languid strokes, and you whimpered at the sight.

Blue eyes shot open at the sound, and Agatha’s gaze hardened at your change of position. Reaching out, she roughly grabbed the back of your head, pushing you back down against the table. You strained against the pressure, wanting to see her, or even just catch a glance of her.

“Good girls stay still when their mommies order them too,” Agatha hissed, lining her strap with your soaked pussy. She admired your swollen lips briefly before glancing back up at your head. She moved her hand down to the back of your neck, applying enough pressure to keep you in place, but not enough to make you uncomfortable.

Pressing the tip of her strap into your pussy, Agatha held back a moan. “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

You nodded as best you could, feeling tears well up at the thought of displeasing Agatha. “Yes mommy, I’m a good girl. I’ll do whatever you say, just please keep making me feel good.” You nearly bit your tongue as Agatha suddenly entered you in a single thrust. You felt the table rock beneath you, and you let yourself relax as Agatha began fucking into you with earnest.

Blue eyes watched you carefully, a purple wisp entering your mind as you entered into a comfortable lavender haze. Agatha was always proud whenever you trusted her enough to drop into subspace, and now was no exception. That being said, she had no qualms about being rough with you, and quickened her pace.

The pleasurable heat of your slick pussy nearly sent Agatha over the edge, but she held back her orgasm as she moved both hands to grip tightly at your waist. Moans tumbled from your lips as she left fingerprint sized bruises on your hips, her pace never faltering as she brought you to the edge of an orgasm.

“Gonna come, mommy. Please, I’m so close.” You panted, hearing the sloshing sounds of your arousal as Agatha fucked into you.

“You can come as many times as you want, sweetheart. Do you want to come?” Agatha asked, angling the strap until it hit your g-spot perfectly. You jolted, a high pitched whine escaping as you nodded frantically, nails scrabbling for purchase against the wooden table as you felt your muscles tighten.

Agatha bent down, still fucking roughly into you as she licked the shell of your ear. “Come for mommy.”

Your orgasm washed over you like a never-ending wave of lavender and electricity. You spasmed, feeling your muscles expand and contract as you shook against the damp table. Your breaths came out in short, quick bursts, and your ears rang as you felt yourself relax.

Then, you tensed up again. Agatha’s pace never slowed. If anything, it sped up as she reached out for your hair. Wrapping her hand in it, she pulled your head back until your back was flush with her front. Your hips hit the table with each thrust, and you moaned at the feeling of her slick skin sliding against your own.

“Thank you mommy.” Your words sounded distant, foreign almost. Agatha’s deep chuckle, however, reverberated through your brain until the only thing you could think about was her.

Your second orgasm crashed through you like a raging wildfire, and you’re pretty sure you screamed at some point, the sensation of Agatha’s strap deep inside you and her hands roaming your sweaty skin too much to handle. The last thing you remember is Agatha’s worried blue eyes locked on your own.

—

“Hon? Are you awake?” You stirred, mumbling something as you felt soft fabrics all around you. Your eyes feel gunky, and you realize that the tears you’d shed had caked up around your eyelids. Reaching up, you notice that your arm feels strangely heavy. You can’t understand why, until you clumsily wipe at your eyes, and see Agatha fully wrapped around you.

A relieved sigh escapes Agatha’s lips, and you smile groggily down at her. “What happened?”

A hand strokes along your bare stomach gently as Agatha responds. “You passed out during your second orgasm, from the overstimulation.” She turns her wide blue eyes on you, and you’re surprised to see unshed tears in them.

Reaching down, you swipe your thumbs over her cheeks lovingly. Smiling softly, you whisper, “I’m not upset, Aggie. I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Agatha blinks, her eyes still laced with worry. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” You say, pulling her up for a brief kiss. You pour all of your gratitude and reassurances into the kiss, smiling when you feel Agatha relax against you. “Besides, now we can take a nice long bath.”

Pulling away slightly, Agatha looks at you in confusion. You laugh, pushing some of her wild curls away from her face and behind her ear. “Now it's your turn for an orgasm. I’m not the only one in need of release.”

You reach down, your fingers grazing the sides of the strap-on still attached to Agatha’s hips. She jolts, having forgotten that she was still wearing it. Groaning, she feels her arousal return tenfold, and pulls you from the bed after making sure that you were alright.

As you prepare a bath, filled to the brim with bubbles, Agatha pulls you into a tight embrace. After a deep kiss, your lips now bruised from her never-ending bites, she pulls away and swipes a finger through your still-slick center. Pulling you into the water, Agatha looks at you with blown pupils, her arms wrapping around you as she guides your hand to where she needs you most.

Pressing your front against her back, you let your lips graze her neck gently. Your hands grip her hips as you pull her flush against you. You briefly consider teasing her, but at the sound of water sloshing when Agatha cants her hips upwards in search of stimulation, you decide against it.

You wrap your fingers around the strap, squeezing slightly as you begin to slowly pump your fist. You nearly come for a third time when Agatha lets out a drawn-out moan, her head dropping onto your shoulder as her hands grip the sides of the tub.

Admiring the taunt muscles of Agatha’s neck, you let your tongue drag a long swipe up the column of her throat before murmuring in her ear, “You’re doing so good for me mommy.”

“Don’t you dare stop.” Agatha responded, her voice tight as her eyes clenched shut. You smiled against her neck, sinking your teeth into the soft skin near her collarbone as you moved your hand faster.

Frantic hips rose rapidly to meet your hand, and you heard Agatha’s orgasm before you felt it. The water in the tub sloshed as Agatha’s body went completely taunt, her muscles seizing as you pumped your fist rapidly up and down her length.

A breathy moan sounded in your ear, and one of Agatha’s hands moved quickly to grip your wrist. Her fingernails dug into your soft skin as she began speaking incoherently. “God, you’re so… fuck. Right there, don’t stop baby. I can’t… holy shit. So go- so good for me.”

With a few final pumps of your fist, Agatha came. Her body spasmed, and you wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her still as you drew the last drops of ecstasy from her. After a few long seconds, her body fully relaxed against you. Pushing your hand away, Agatha twisted her fingers as purple wisps danced around the strap, whisking it off and towards the sink to be cleaned.

Agatha sighed, intertwining her fingers with your own as you rubbed circles against her stomach. She tilted her head, her blue eyes glinting dangerously as she took you in. “I need to get you desperate more often.”

#mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader #mommy agatha #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #enchanted strap #requests

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sbdskate · 11 months

Text

Laws of Attraction (Part 4) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): language, alcohol consumption, COPIOUS sexual themes, references to self pleasure, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 5,548

A/N: Happy Enchante drop day! Remember that time I thought this was going to be a one shot? Well, here’s part 4 and apparently there will now be a part 5 which I’m pretty sure will be the last one unless there is an epilogue. Thank you for your patience, while I had a strong sense of the story I wanted to tell in the beginning, I’ve had some trouble trying to figure out how to wrap it up. As always, any feedback is welcome. If you enjoyed, please like, comment, and/or reblog xoxo

Daniel stood there dazed in the middle of the bar, unsure of what just happened. One minute, he and y/n were dancing and laughing, then you were suddenly gone. He felt sad, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

He barely had a second to reflect when people started swarming him, men and women alike, trying to find their way into the driver’s orbit. Some of them just wanted pictures, some tried to make small talk or flirt. Despite being surrounded be people clamoring for just a fraction of his attention, he was incredibly alone.

It was late, he was tired, and it was time to leave.

By the following weekend for the Mexico Grand Prix, you had not spoken to your client since that night in the bar. You wished you had blacked out so you could simply pretend it didn’t happen, or blame your behavior on the excess alcohol, but unfortunately for you your memory of the night was crystal clear. The scene replayed over and over in your head. First comes the shame, at how much you enjoyed the feeling of his touch on your waist and the warmth of your bodies pressed against one another. You wonder what might have happened if you had closed the tiny gap between your lips. Would it have stayed a drunken bar make out session or would it have overflowed to the hotel? Would you have gone to his room or yours? Would it have been sloppy and desperate or slow and sensual? Would he be a gentleman in the morning or would he kick you out? When you finish going through every single permutation of what could have been, that’s when the embarrassment sets in. Embarrassment that you let the whole thing happen and that you basically ran away without an explanation, saying goodbye, or much else. Finally, the wave of guilt over abandoning him after an emotional weekend when he probably needed you most. You couldn’t see how you could come back from this.

Fortunately you hadn’t had a reason to be in the same room together, but that would soon be coming to an end. Despite the temptation of margaritas and empanadas and tropical sun outside, you mostly stayed in your hotel room, throwing yourself deeper into your work and trying anything to distract yourself from the anxiety of the unknown fallout from what may or may not have occurred in Austin. There was a lot of positive movement happening with both Mercedes and Red Bull, which you should have been ecstatic to share with your client. And yet you were terrified to make contact with him.

As things seemed to be coming to a head in reserve driver negotiations, the partner set up an in-person client meeting on the morning of press day. You hadn’t been this nervous the first time you met Daniel or going into hostile negotiations against Zak Brown and McLaren. You changed outfits no less than seven times before heading out and no amount of power posing made you feel any better. Normally you would have gotten to the meeting at least fifteen minutes early, but you were worried Daniel would show up before Joe which would leave the two of you by yourselves. You uncharacteristically arrived on time, and ended up being the last person to join the meeting. You could tell Joe was slightly annoyed.

“Y/N, so nice of you to join us.”

You cringed. “Sorry. There was…uh, traffic.” You knew it was a lame excuse, but you couldn’t be bothered. You glanced over at Daniel, but he kept his eyes focused on the desk. For a meeting that should have been filled with excitement over the prospect of possibility, it felt somewhat somber.

You went over where he stood with Mercedes and Red Bull. The discussions between Daniel and the teams had been successfully kept under wraps until the last week or so, when a photo of Toto in an Enchante sweatshirt began circulating the internet. Though nothing was finalized, sleuthing fans thought this was an obvious hint that Daniel had signed with Mercedes. While it wasn’t the end of the world, you had hoped Daniel would be able to make his decision without the pressure of public comment or opinion. You were sure he had the mental fortitude to do so regardless, but you felt the need to protect him beyond your professional fiduciary obligations. He had already been through enough.

You pressed through the meeting, keeping your comments technical and brief. As usual you exchanged handshakes at the end before going your separate ways, though he hardly looked your way before he turned to leave. Once out of the room, Joe began to discuss next steps with you but his words went in one ear and out the other. You felt nauseous as the growing pit in your stomach failed to subdue. You thought back again to the night at the bar and your abrupt departure, and the last few days where you easily could have sent a text to reassure him or ease the tension, but you didn’t. You were the attorney and you were responsible for maintaining the attorney-client relationship, which you failed. You had to go find him.

You cut your boss off as politely as you could. “I’m so sorry, sir, I just realized… I forgot my, uh, charger! And I need to… respond to another client’s email. So I have to go.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you ok? You seem flustered today.”

“I’m fine!” You were absolutely off your game, but you didn’t want to show him any signs of weakness. “Just, jetlagged?” You mentally slapped yourself as soon as the words came out of your mouth. While it might have worked for almost any other F1 race on the calendar, Austin and Mexico City were in the same time zone. The partner knew something was up, but he had too many other things to worry about than the mental breakdown of a low level associate.

“Ok. But I expect a draft of redlines by the end of the day.”

You were practically already out the door as you called out “Thank you, sir! I’ll be sure to get those to you as soon as possible!”

You were running around the paddock like a crazy person, unceremoniously shoving media personnel out of the way. You made your way through the maze of hallways and offices, the click-clack of your high heels announcing your presence before you got to wherever you were going.

In your haste, you didn’t notice running past Lando.

“Y/N!”

“Can’t! Don’t have time!” you called back, not even bothering to figure out who was addressing you.

“Y/N! It’s me, would slow down for two seconds?”

Finally, you stopped and turned. “Oh thank goodness.” You doubled over, huffing and puffing from the unexpected cardio. “You can help me. Where’s Daniel?” you asked between breaths.

“He went to his dressing room after your meeting. Whe-?”

You were already around the corner before he finished his sentence. “Great, thanks!”

You barreled your way towards Daniel, your run turning into a lame waddle from the constrictions of your shoes and pencil skirt. You did not pause when you arrived at your destination and pushed the door open without knocking. You doubled over again and leaned against the wall once inside.

“Can I help you?”

You were so exhausted you almost missed the fact that the driver was shirtless. It was a sight to behold, especially after months of imagining what might be underneath. Your eyes lingered longer than they should have on his toned pecs, moving their way down to his chiseled abs and the “v” that pointed its way to his pants. You knew he was still upset with you, but it didn’t stop the small smirk threatening its way to his face. But you were a woman on a mission and you refused to be distracted.

“I’m sorry,” you got out, still panting. “I fucked up.” You looked away while he put a McLaren shirt on, taking the moment to catch your breath.

He sat down and motioned for you to do the same, which you graciously accepted. He took you in. In the span of less than an hour, it felt as though he was looking at before and after photos of an ad but in reverse. You seemed so composed during the meeting and now here you were, blazer lopsided and unbuttoned, hair tousled, sweat beading at your forehead, cheeks flushed, and breathless. It was simultaneously hilarious and insanely hot, but he wasn’t going to let on anything at this point.

“What the hell happened?”

You started talking a mile a minute. “I wanted to talk to you right after the meeting, but Joe wanted to talk about next steps and I tried to get away as soon as I could, but then I couldn’t find you –“

“Not now you dodo, last week after the race.” You blinked a few times. Now that he was in front of you, the thoughts running in your mind from before went blank. He came to your rescue, filling in the silence.

“All I know, is that we were having a good time and then you left me in the middle of a bar by myself without saying goodbye after one of the shittiest races of my life. I haven’t heard from you since, and I know you haven’t been hungover for four days straight. I appreciate you coming in here and apologizing, but respectfully, what the fuck.”

You looked away in shame. You weren’t sure how you were going to handle this without disclosing your feelings. You took a deep breath and swallowed your pride, proceeding cautiously.

“What happened at the bar, and how I acted afterwards, is entirely a me problem and I could have been more… strategicabout how I handled it.

“Strategic!?” You winced and closed your eyes, immediately regretting your choice of words. Clearly insulted, he continued. “Strategic is how you describe a Bond villain, or a business deal, not how you treat a friend-“

You jumped out of your chair, interrupting him out of frustration. “Don’t you get it? That’s the whole problem!” You couldn’t tell if you wanted to hold his hand or punch a wall. “I love that you are basically the human equivalent of a golden retriever. I love how comfortable we are together, and I’m a firm believer that you do better work when you know and like the people you work with. But you are my work at the end of the day. You are my client. There’s literally a whole ethics exam that is separate from the bar exam and it’s really easy. (1) Don’t comingle funds; and (2) don’t sleep with your client.” He raised an eyebrow. You sat back down.

“Obviously, nothing happened on Sunday. But… it felt like it toed the line of what is acceptable in my professional capacity. I know this is probably very one sided and it’s all in my head, but it felt like something could have. If Joe or anyone else ever found out, I could lose my job or my license over something like this. That being said, I do not blame you one bit. I’m the one that let things get out of hand, and I realized it in a single moment, and I freaked out, and left. And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Daniel looked at the floor, his cheeks dusted slightly pink as he processed your admission. “It wasn’t in your head,” he whispered. His gaze rose to meet yours, but you covered your face with your hands.

“Fuck, don’t tell me that.” You tried to keep your tone light as if you were trying to joke it off, but you were very serious. You had convinced yourself this was a delusional fantasy of your mind’s creation, which would have been very easy to let go. But now it had been spoken into existence with the revelation that those feelings were reciprocated. It had legs and took up space. It was terrifying. You sighed as you slouched back in your chair, feeling defeated and mind reeling. “Look. Let’s just chalk this up to the fact that we’ve been spending a stupid amount of time together for the last however many months. Can we please just pretend last weekend never happened so we can move past this?”

Daniel sat for a moment. Of course he had forgiven you as soon as you stampeded your way into his room. There was a lot about Texas he wanted to forget, but his day with you was not one of them. Maybe you were right that the feelings the two of you evidently had for each other were just the product of forced proximity, but right now he didn’t want to believe that. Time and time again this season when he felt like he couldn’t go on, you had been there with support and compassion. You grounded him while he mellowed your intensity. You provided logic and reason while he extracted adventure and vulnerability. He was Yin and you were Yang. You couldn’t make up a connection like that. Yet, he would never want be the reason you lose your license, let alone the job you love so much.

Looking at you now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up and kiss you. Instead, he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

You smiled softly, giving a firm handshake. “Thanks.” You paused. “So, we’re good… right?”

Of course you were. How could you not be? He had a million things he wanted to say. Instead, all he could get out was: “Yeah. We’re good.”

You weren’t sure what was in the water. Maybe it was you, or next year’s team prospects, or simply the energy of Mexico, but Daniel gave his best performance of the season finishing a strong P7. For the first time since you met him, a genuine smile graced the driver post-race. Professionally, you knew this would be great to leverage in finalizing negotiations. But as his friend, your heart was exploding with pride. The crowd was roaring in celebration, everyone was a Daniel Ricciardo fan. After a tough season, you had forgotten this side of him. What you wouldn’t do for those dimples. You kept your distance though, allowing him to revel in the spotlight. It was killing you not to run up to him, but you wouldn’t have been able to get to him if you tried.

The post-race interviews would probably take a while so you decided to head out. As you fought your way through the media, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You assumed it was just standard foot traffic, so you kept moving until you heard someone call your name. You were shocked to find Christian Horner trying to flag you down.

“Y/N!”

“Christian! What a pleasant surprise, I assumed you would be busy.”

“I saw my favorite lawyer walk by, I had to say hello.”

Christian was an interesting character. Admittedly you had not looked forward to working across the table from him initially. He came across as arrogant, hypocritical, and conniving. You thought his only redeeming quality was that he was married to Ginger Spice, but soon found that was only second to how much he cared about Daniel. Given how Daniel departed Red Bull all those years ago, you wrongly assumed that bridge had been burned so you were nervous when you first approached the team for negotiations. It was quickly apparent how unfounded those feelings were after the first email. Christian was there when Daniel made his F1 debut in 2009 as an awkward teenager and watched him grow and molded him into a seasoned driver. It was clear he would give him both kidneys in a pinch.

“Honored and humbled,” you teased. You were almost shouting due to the swarm that quickly surrounded you due to Christian’s presence. You continued walking, “Running away from interviews now, are we?”

“Funny you should say that. I am, because I keep getting some interesting questions about a certain third driver seat.” He was being coy, and knew exactly what he was doing with all the journalists around you. “Are there any updates I can report back on?” He was more persistent than a used car salesman.

“None at the moment, I’m afraid. I promise you’ll be the second person I tell when I do.”

“Second? Who has me beat?”

“Your wife, of course.”

“Maybe if this thing closes, Geri might be open to grab some celebratory drinks.”

“I don’t know Christian, that sounds like a bribe to me.”

“Good seeing you as always, counselor.”

You laughed as you parted ways. You had been able to fly under the radar, until recently when snooty media noticed you going in and out of various meetings. You thought everyone would leave you alone when Christian left, but a few eagle-eyed personnel stayed with you.

“Does this mean that Daniel Ricciardo has a home for next year?”

“Can you confirm Daniel is going to Red Bull?”

“I’m unable to disclose any information, those discussions are protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Legal obligations be damned, the handful of media continued to follow you. You repeated the same statement in eight different ways, you tried ignoring them to no avail. You continued walking, hoping at a certain point they’d give up. Certainly there were at least a hundred other people around the paddock significantly more important and interesting than you.

“I think you guys confused the pretty lady for me?” You recognized the voice immediately. You were thankful for your savior shifting the attention away from you, except that the swarm around you returned ten-fold in an instant. The Australian entertained their questions while helping you navigate the crowd. You knew he and his PR advisor had prepped for this, and you were impressed how he skillfully dodged their questions while making them feel as though they had gotten a profound, headline-worthy snippet.

He fought the instinct to put his hand on your back to help guide you through the mob. You stayed close though, unnerved by the increasing number of people around you. As you continued to walk side-by-side, unsuccessfully willing yourself to become invisible, your fingers grazed. Instinctively, you flinched and pulled your hand away at the contact. He continued engaging with the media but took a moment to meet your eyes. His gaze was not judgmental nor offended, instead offering you reassurance. You realized how silly you were being and dropped your hand. The tips of your pinkies momentarily met again and the warm feeling you felt in the bar before everything went sideways came bubbling back. Only this time it made you feel safe and secure, not scared or embarrassed.

“As fun as this has been guys, I have big plans with some tequila shots and a mariachi band that I must attend to.” Even his excuses could charm the pants off the most scrutinizing reporter. He politely excused the two of you, pulling you away into McLaren hospitality. The doors shut behind you, immediately muffling the outside noise.

“Is it always like that?”

He took one look at you and burst out laughing. You might be able to keep certain thoughts to yourself, but often times your facial expressions gave you away as they did now. Your eyes, wide and unblinking. Your mouth, contorted into downward frown. In the distance, *sirens*.

“Don’t laugh, that was traumatizing!” you whined.

“In all fairness, it didn’t always used to be this bad. But you get used to it.”

“Please, you were born to be in the spotlight. The camera loves you.”

“Just the camera?”

You gave him your most aggressive side eye. It was hardly an appropriate comment given your conversation on press day, but you knew he was just joking. You raised your hands. “You know what, that’s on me. I walked into that one.”

“Had to go for the low hanging fruit.”

You looked around. McLaren hospitality was quiet, but not empty. You hoped no one noticed the light flirtation that was taking place. You changed the topic.

“I forgot to say congratulations on today! You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Yeah, it feels nice.” You know what else feels nice? “It’s been such a long, hard season. Y’know?” You know what else is long and hard? “I’ve just been really pounding away with trainings and everything -” You know what else you can pound?

You smiled and nodded while you continued to tally the that’s-what-she-said jokes and innuendos in your head.

“- and I feel like there’s been this gaping hole -” Surely he has got to hear himself.

You bit your lower lip to keep from giggling and cursed yourself for your filthy mind and having the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.

“-but all in all it’s been a good day, yeah?” Finally.

“Yes, for sure. I’m really happy for you.” There was a pregnant pause before either of you spoke again. He could tell that you were distracted though he wasn’t sure why. You were concerned about keeping yourself in check.

“Anyways, this has been lovely as always. Enjoy the rest of your night, I don’t want to keep you from your Mariachi band.”

“You’re not going to celebrate?”

You looked around, again being mindful of potential witnesses. “What are you talking about, we’ve been celebrating your points finish since the end of the race. You go have fun, I was just going to stay here and get some work done until things clear out a bit more.”

“Not for me. It’s Halloween, you know.”

Actually, you had completely forgotten. But you quickly realized where this conversation was heading. “That’s nice.”

“Lando wants to show off his DJ side hustle at some club. It will be fun.”

“Now there’s something spooky,” you said sarcastically.

“You should come.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

The stare down between you continued as you went about your delicate dance around the elephant in the room. He took a step towards you and grabbed you gently by the shoulders.

“Nothing will happen. Promise,” he whispered. You looked up at him.

“I don’t have a costume,” you lightly countered.

“We’ll get you one.”

You pursed your lips. You had a million other excuses in your head, but you trusted him. How could you say no?

It had been a while since you had been in a club, and truthfully you weren’t sure you were cut out for it any more as you approached thirty. The flashing lights and heavy bass were giving you a migraine. That being said, it was a very different experience than you remember and being the guest of a VIP had its significant perks. When you got to the venue you almost didn’t even get out of the car when you saw the line down several blocks. As it so happens, when you’re a Formula 1 driver you can skip the line. And get attentive bottle service as opposed to fighting your way to the bar and pray the bartender notices you. Not to mention easy access to the DJ booth. As he had assured you, there were plenty of other people around to act as buffers.

Sure enough, Lando was at the helm of the DJ booth along with his girlfriend and a few of the other drivers and their respective significant others. As soon as the others saw you, they burst out into laughter. If you were ever concerned whether you could ever fit into Daniel’s world, this experience quelled any uncertainty. What Daniel’s skeleton costume lacked in creativity, yours’ made up for in leaps and bounds. Why be a sexy nurse or police officer when you could be American Daniel Ricciardo? American flag bomber jacket, cowboy hat, belt buckle, poorly drawn facial hair and all - which looked even sillier given your short stature. It was clear the resourceful last-minute look was well-received and earned you a warm welcome.

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, you leaned more into your Danny Ric persona including donning a poor Australian accent. Daniel continued to converse with the other drivers but watched you from a distance, trying to remain respectful of your prior agreement. Even with your face covered in smudged eye makeup to mimic his beard, he loved seeing you in his clothes. You were practically swimming in his jacket and he was sure it was the cutest thing he had ever witnessed. When you thought no one else was looking, you subtly grabbed the collar and gave it a sniff, deeply inhaling the owner’s fragrance.

Seeing you try to pick up his scent caused something primal in him to awaken. In another world he would have put on his usual moves to woo a lady back to his hotel room, which admittedly didn’t take much. First, he would buy you a drink. Then after some short flirty back and forth, he would move the two of you to the dancefloor. He would be behind you while you grinded - in a club packed like this, your bodies would be pressed closely together. He would place his hands on your waist and slowly move them down to your hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Eventually he would leave kisses on the side of your neck, while finding your hands to hold. He would spin you around and ask if you wanted to go back to his place. Inevitably you would say yes, and the two of you would leave and begin your makeout session in the back of his private car to avoid suspicion by nosy paparazzi. Finally when you arrive at your final destination, he would fuck you senseless.

His mind was reeling at the possibilities. But you were no ordinary lady and you didn’t deserve his usual moves. You deserved so much more. And he couldn’t give you any of it.

Meanwhile, the constancy you had to stay away from your muse diminished as the night went on. The champagne was easily accessible and went down even easier. The club was hot and stuffy, though it was unclear if it was from everyone’s collective body heat, the Mexican climate, or both. You decided to take off the jacket, wrapping it around your waist, leaving in you a plain white tank top. It was far from being the most scandalous outfit in the room, but Daniel was doing everything in his power not to stare. It was a stark contrast from the conservative suits and dresses he’d gotten used to seeing you in, showing off every curve of your body. Again, he should have been turned off by the beard makeup alone but it endearingly complimented the cleavage that threatened to spill its way out of your shirt. Eventually you found yourself next to him again.

“G’day mate,” you said tipping his hat. You weren’t sloppy, but it was obvious that your usual social filter was long gone.

“Is that absolutely necessary?”

“What are you talking about, I’m Daniel Ricciardo. This is my voice. Pew pew pew” you gave him some finger guns and blew them out before returning them to their imaginary holsters. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is by far the worst Australian accent I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I can switch to Steve Erwin if you want.”

“Please don’t.” You ignored him.

“Crikey! Here we see the Formula 1 Driver in his natural habitat.” You gestured over to Pierre shamelessly trying to flirt with a model with a bottle of Ace in hand. “Ah yes, the young male has spotted a potential mate. We will now get to witness his intricate mating ritual.”

He watched your face as you continued your animated nature documentary play-by-play of Pierre. He always felt lucky when he got to see this side of you. Silly, unfiltered, and unincumbered by responsibility.

He leaned into you. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am. Are you having fun – oh!” Someone had pushed their way past you forcing you to fall into the driver, inadvertently smushing your bodies together. He placed a protective hand on the small of your back further pulling you into him while trying not to spill the drink in his other hand. The buzzing returned with a vengeance. It was hard to ignore the soft of your breasts pressed against his muscly torso. You blushed profusely at the new sensation of your hips meeting, feeling the bulge of his pants against your pelvis.

“Are you ok?” You finally pulled your bodies away from each other, your cheeks on fire from the heavy and unfamiliar contact.

“Oh I’m fine. But on that note, I should probably head back.” You hoped he would he would attribute your flush to all the champagne you consumed, and prayed your “beard” was covering for you. The fluttering sensation between your legs refused to cease.

“Ok, I’ll call the car.”

“No, no, I can just call an uber it’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t leave by yourself.” It took a minute for you to realize he was looking out for your safety, not inviting himself to your hotel room. You again felt embarrassed at your own misinterpretation.

“I don’t want to make you leave though, you should keep celebrating.”

“I’ve celebrated enough, I’m happy and tired and ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” He smiled and turned his hand into a fake phone.

“I’m calling it,” he said into his hand. You laughed at the reference to the joke he had with Lando about ‘calling it a day,’ thankful that he found a way to break the tension.

The car ride back to the hotel was relatively quiet. You squeezed your legs together to quell the growing heat below your waist and kept your hands in your lap to prevent them from accidentally wandering. Your heart rate had not slowed since you bumped into one another. You closed your eyes to try to center yourself and redirect the energy of your raging hormones.

Two feet away, Daniel was in a very similar situation dealing with his own demons. The smell of your perfume mixed with this own cologne intoxicated him. He forced himself to think of his home in Perth to keep his mind from wondering to all the ways you could be bent right then and there in the back seat.

You thanked the driver getting out of the car. The walk to your respective rooms felt like an eternity. You pressed for your floor when you got in the elevator and waited for him to do the same, but he did not move.

“What floor are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” You looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“Fine. I’ll allow it.”

You again stood there in silence side by side as you waited to reach your floor. You cursed the mirrored walls of the elevator. With a few drinks in you, you allowed your lidded eyes to wander all over Daniel’s reflection from the neck down. Fortunately for you he didn’t notice your ogling, but only because he was doing the same thing. In the middle of your respective daydreams, your pinkies accidentally grazed again, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes finally met in the mirror.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, taking a step away from your client.

“All good.” You both diverted your gazes for the rest of the short ride. You got off the elevator and walked to your room.

“Well, this is me.” You paused, finally making eye contact again. “Thanks for inviting me out, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Oh, before I forget here’s your hat and jacket.” You went to remove the hat but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, they look better on you anyways.” It was a questionably appropriate line, but he didn’t care. At this point, neither did you.

“I’m not sure when I’ll wear them again, but thanks.” You smiled to yourself, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of his jacket. He was still looking at you when you looked back up. The chatty driver was uncharacteristically quiet. You were both stalling, though it was unclear what for. You decided to rip off the band-aid.

“Good night Mr. Ricciardo, congratulations again.”

“Good night y/n. I’ll see you in Brazil.”

“I’ll see you in Brazil,” you repeated.

When the door shut, he placed his hand on it for a moment. His mind, again, going to all of the places that were off-limits. With a sigh he left for his room.

On the other side, you leaned your head against the door and squeezed your eyes shut. Sloppily undoing your jeans, you stuck a hand down your underwear to offer relief from the building tension. You were soaked. With reckless abandon, you grabbed your vibrator and shamelessly indulged yourself in the filthiest fantasies regarding your client the rest of the night.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @wewoo1233 @monzabee

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lwtperseus · 19 days

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enchanted! – jercy au | plot idea

Jason Grace is a serious, courteous and courageous 16-year-old young man. As prince of the kingdom of Olympia, Jason learned that respect, obedience and intelligence are the foundations for being the perfect prince that he so desires and that his people and father expect him to be.

Perseus Jackson is a brave, kind and adventurous 17-year-old young man who loves to skate through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. With his impertinent personality, hyperactive behavior and learning problems, he couldn't be considered less perfect.

Where two completely different worlds collide, a flame ignites.

(plot inspired by Disney's Enchanted film)

#jercy #percy jackson #jason grace #alternative universe #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #fanfic ideas #enchanted #heroes of olympus #bissexual #gay

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mybadlywrittenstories · 1 month

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Enchanted to meet you (Paul Lahote X OC)

“Shhh.” Amelia shushed her little sister Evelyn as she tip-toed down the staircase leading to the foyer. Both girls stopped before the last step, hiding behind the wall which separated them from their expected guest—well their parents expected guests.

Amelia and Evelyn were the two daughters of head of the north American coven. Well, their mother was head of the coven, their father was Fae; a simple mythical creature known mainly for their connection with nature and healing magic. It was common for Fae and witches to mingle amongst one another, as witches channeled the powers of nature for their spells and potions; much like the Fae. Procreation between the two species was a special rarity, most Fae never made romantic or sexual connections as there was no real need. You see, Fae is not made through conventional means.

If you’ve ever been out in nature, in a secluded spot where it almost seems untouched by humanity, you feel the sudden sense of calmness rushing over you. The sun seems to illuminate the world around you in a blanket of warmth and bliss, and it feels as if in that moment everything is perfect; that means a Fae was probably just born near you. The Fae believes that mother nature carefully crafts each and every Fae, their bodies created from the earth itself, and then she releases them to live their lives and protect her earth. Other species have different theories on how the Fae came to be, but no one can say with complete certainty.

This seeming species wide asexuality is why it causes everyone a shock when a Fae bares a child physically, and to do so with not only a witch but one of the most powerful witches in existence? The leader of the North American Coven? Now that creates two very interesting girls.

Amelia Boleyn is an 18-year-old halfling, those halves being part witch and Fae. She stands on the shorter side, just under 5’3—however if anyone ever called her anything less than 5’3 she’d make sure to put them in their place. She cropped her hair just above her shoulders with some rusty kitchen scissors during a slightly tipsy night she shared with her sister. Her skin was naturally on the tanner side, resembling her father’s coloring of curly dark hair and tan skin, more so than her mother’s red hair, pale skin, and green eyes. She came into her powers when she was 13 years of age, although she showed much promise with her witchcraft already being a fourth level spell caster. She much preferred dabbling in the simple powers of her father, a stereotypical daddy’s girl. She would much rather go out into the woods, lay in a field, and connect with nature rather than sit at home and stare at old grimoires.

Her sister Evelyn, however, is the opposite. She is 16 and also a halfling, her skin only a shade or two darker than her mothers, she also had her mother’s straight auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She was also one who could spend hours sitting in her room, reading her ancestors grimoires and attempting to learn to cast new and more advanced spells, already dabbling the same level as her older sisters, but severely struggling with any Fae related magic.

The two girls are very possibly going to become two of the strongest women alive, and here they were huddled together behind a flimsy wooden wall, straining to eavesdrop on their parents’ conversation. Amelia and Evelyn both shared worried looks as they heard multiple heavy footsteps walking into the house. Their father Aeon had told them of the recent killings of magic folk in the area, forbidding them from going out alone even for the most insignificant of tasks. Whoever was responsible for the killings was targeting young adults and teens, and although they have yet to kill a Fae child or witch child, the matter needed to be dealt with.

As far as anyone could tell, going off the bodies of the victims, the killer was a vampire. Incredibly fast, and efficient killers, but not known to go after other supernatural’s. Something was brewing, and Jenny and Aeon Boleyn had made the decision to call in the only supernatural’s who were properly equipped to deal with a vampire, wolf shifters.

Amelia and Evelyn were fascinated when their father explained who was coming, and why they had to keep their distance. The northwestern shifters were notorious for being big, burly brutes with wicked tempers. Tales of the smallest disagreement turning into massive fights involving clashing canines spread like wildfire when they seemingly reappeared a few years back after being presumed extinct. To the girls, however, this made them a group of very fascinating subjects to poke and prod at—youthful stupidity mixed with curiosity.

Amelia leaned closer to the edge of doorway as she heard a somehow quiet, yet booming voice start to speak. “Aeon it’s been too long.” A small pause filled with the sound of scuffing shoes and a door closing, “I only wish this meeting was under better circumstances.” The same voice spoke again, sounding sympathetic.

“It’s so nice to see you, Sam.” Their mother’s sweet voice greeted, “It’s so nice to see all of you. Though, I do see a few new faces. Please everyone come inside and sit down I’m sure your journey has been very tiring.” Multiple deep voices muttered hellos, and then heavy footsteps followed the woman into the small living room.

Most of the men opted to sit on the grown, allowing Sam their pack alpha to sit on the couch with Jen and Aeon. They all trusted Sam when he said the couple could be trusted, perhaps it was the wolf in them that made them skeptical of the unknown but regardless of the reason, no one but Sam wanted to be too close to the two.

The two girls waited on the stairs for a few minutes, trying to strain and hear what was being said, but all they could pick up on was the low mumbling of conversation. “You think we should try to get closer?” Evelyn whispered into her older sister’s ear, her heart thrumming quickly with excitement.

Amelia considered for a moment, weighing if the risk of getting caught was worth satiating her curiosity, in the end the latter won. “Yes, but don’t make any noise. I so do not want to hear the lecture from mom and dad if they catch us snooping.”

Unbeknownst to the pair, the shifters had exceptional hearing and all of them had picked up on the quiet encounter a few yards away. Sam simply ignored the two girls, seeing no real threat in them eavesdropping, Quill, Embry, Seth, Collin, Brady, and Paul all shared sly smirks to one another—not so subtly glancing at the small door way as gentle and slow footstep inched forward.

“You should take a peek—see what they look like! “Evelyn urged faintly, Nudging her sister with her arm. “Why me? So, I’m the one who gets caught?” Amelia shot a pointed glare towards her younger, yet taller sister. “Yes! Now look, Mom said werewolves were usually all ruggedly handsome! Maybe the same applies for shifters.” Evelyn had a wicked smirk on her mouth as she envisioned a group of big burly men fresh for the pickings waiting in her living room—those teenage hormones surging through her body at the prospect.

“That’s gross, Eve.” Amelia sighed, rolling her eyes, “But I’ll do it… not because you said they were hot though.” The two sisters shared a mischievous look together, before Amelia crouched down to knee level and carefully leaned past the doorway, bracing herself on the wall so as not to fall and peering into the living room.

A not so silent profanity left her lips as her eyes met six other pairs of eyes looking directly back at her. In her shock her grip slipped on the door frame, and she tumbled into full view of everyone—including her parents. Evelyn silently died of laughter still hidden behind the wall, before quickly making her escape back up the stairs, abandoning her sister to the wolves.

“Uh—Hi!” Amelia chirper, looking around at the men in her living room, very purposely not making eye contact with her parents. “I just… uhm” Evelyn quickly looked around the floor around her, a somewhat stupid plan popping her head, but hell it was her only idea. She reached forward and grabbed a lost pen from the floor and held it up swinging it in the air. “Was just lookin for this!” As her eyes travelled back up to the unknown men, the pen almost fell from her hands.

Amelia thought it was just due to the surprise of meeting eyes with—in her opinion—the most attractive man in the room. Paul, however, felt as if he was cemented in his place, sitting on an old Abrash rug in a run-down but quaint little cottage, looking into a pair of beautiful dark eyes. A gentle click in his brain, and he knew what this feeling was, this feeling as if he had just taken off a filter from his eyes and he was finally seeing clearly. Her confused face tempting him to come closer, and to never leave. His imprint.

Everyone but Amelia could feel the shift in the air, Jen Boleyn silently screaming in her head as it dawned on her. Her precious eldest daughter being imprinted upon by a shifter? A breed who was made to kill and slaughter their enemies without a moment of remorse, she opened her mouth to speak but no words would leave her lips.

Amelia looked around at all the shocked and speechless faces, assuming this was caused solely by her interruption, her face reddened, and she quickly stood up, ignoring the slight ache in her hips where she landed. “I’m just going to go, it was nice—uh—meeting all of you!” She smiled before quickly making her exit and running up the stairs.

Amelia threw herself into her room and hopped up onto her bed. She knew she was in for it but she silently prayed to mother nature that her parents wouldn’t be too pissed about the interruption—a pointless prayer and she knew it. Remaining under her covers she shimmied off her jeans and bra and turned over towards her window. Listening to the now significantly louder voices downstairs speak and watching the pale blue clouds pass by the full moon outside. She laid there for what felt like hours, but in reality, was only thirty minutes, waiting for her parents’ lecture to come—but it never did. Instead, she was slowly lulled into one of the deepest slumbers she had in a very long time, strangely plagued by the sight of those deep brown eyes of one of the very handsome but strange young man.

#paul lahote #twilight #twilight saga #twilight fanfic #oc #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x amelia boleyn #au #witch #fae #wolf pack #wolf pack twilight #twilight x oc #amelia boleyn #enchanted to meet you #imprint fic

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askwild180demonbear · 9 months

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Drew this meme a few years ago based on The Enchanted Library by @rarilight! (Go read it rn) Was asked to post it so here is me making sure it has been. :D I want to do a redraw at some point and I may post the wonky scribble version I did a few months back haha

I don't think I need to say what the meme is also based on >:3

#rarilight #mlp #my art #meme redraw #Discord mlp #mlp discord #mlp rarity #rarity mlp #Twilight sparkle (mention)#Tel #The enchanted library #mlp fanfic #Monochromatic mlp #that's rough buddy #Zuko meme

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willoillo · 1 year

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"For you, a thousand times over." This monumental work took me so fucking long. I finished reading The Enchanted Library at the beginning of this month, had this idea shortly afterwards, and then proceeded to work on it for the entire month. THAT HAVING BEEN SAID. I am actually exceedingly proud of the result. I tried out several new techniques in here in regards to lighting and adding detail and color, and I do think that it actually shows. If you haven't yet, I can't recommend you read The Enchanted Library hard enough. It can be found on the author's personal website here. If you want to support me for doing this level of INSANITY as my actual real life job, I would love if you would consider supporting me on Patreon, Ko-Fi, or getting your own commission!! For more info on commissions, you can check out my website or DM me (ideally on Discord at Lillowisp1937)!!

Posted using PostyBirb

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enchanted-lightning-aes · 8 months

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Woodsy Stake-Out

[ID: a green badge of a stack of folders with text that reads ‘Sambucky Summer Camp Bingo, Mission Fic, ESTD. 2023 / finish ID]

Title: Woodsy Stake-Out

Square Filled: Mission Fic

A/N: a ficlet of a couple of guys planning a stake-out in a car for @sambuckylibrary. where sam and bucky arrive to a serpent society hide-out in the woods. thanks to the ppl who provided suggestions and inputs in this (x). however, i had to choose a specific idea and rolled with it. ^^

Word Count: 945

T.W: food, i guess

***

Owls hooted as crickets chirp at the expanse of a forest. The wheels of a car skidded onto a route, only stooping to a halt. Parking some miles away from a guarded electric fenced gates ahead.

"Well, well, they probably expected company," Bucky remarked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Operating in the woods must be their new way to maintain a low profile." Sam shifted in his seat, propping an elbow against the window's edge. "No wonder we couldn't track them down in the city. If it wasn't for Joaquin, we'd be sitting ducks."

Bucky nodded, grimacing. "And if we don't get their weapons soon, they'd take down the city."

"Breaking into tech companies and labs, stealing the components they need." Sam crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Shit. I hate how we couldn't get the drop on them sooner."

Despite himself, he made an affirmative little noise.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, examining the building from afar. Getting glimpses of some hench-people moving crates and packages over the field.

The Serpent Society has set up a base in the woods. Developing weaponry that could take down an entire city to the ground. Especially since it contained parts from alien tech, which could be dangerous used by people with wrong intentions.

Bad news all around.

Fury had paged them and called them for this mission. Giving information as much as he could obtain. They needed to be outside their base, observe them from afar before taking action. And they needed extreme caution, considering how Viper was a clever sort of adversary.

If they weren't having a mission, they would be helping Sarah with the boat. However, duty called and they had to delay repairs.

"So, we're doing a stake-out in this car?" Bucky asked, wiping his knife blade with a thin cloth.

Sam nodded, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. "Yeah, we're gonna be here for a couple of hours.

Great, Bucky thought, his pulse kicking up a notch. Leaning back on his seat.

What had he gotten himself into? Even though, he willingly signed up for it? He had believed they would kick some Serpent Society ass and be on their way. Mission accomplished and all that jazz. However, he had to do a stake-out instead.

Not his usual brand of missions.

And with Sam? Including being. . . Alone? With him, specifically? Fury must have paired them together to torture him in the most twisted yet sweet way possible.

It didn't help that Sam's arm rested by the brakes, just some inches further from his.

He could do worse than Sam. . . He might have been stuck with Torres, who would have chatted throughout the entire thing. Or Scott Lang, who would have did some weird diversions.

Yeah. Bucky could have had worse options, getting spared from it. But he couldn't help how his heart insisted in 'thump', 'thump', 'thump' at the minimal. . . space between them. A little too close just for a couple of guys.

Being cramped in this small space in this car. . . wouldn't bode well for his psyche.

However, if he could jump from an airplane without a parachute and survive, he could also survive this. With his composure and dignity intact.

If there was one thing Bucky was still good at, it would be keeping it cool. He did it back in the forties. And he could defuse his feeling of awkwardness with some quips up his sleeve.

"And I thought the bad guys would find better lairs or something."

"Yeah, I guess they couldn't afford it."

"Wow, that's lousy."

"Tell me about it. But they have good enough security to keep us out."

"A smoke screen ought to knock 'em out, right?"

". . . wait, you brought some?"

"Of course, Samuel. Gotta be prepared for Hydra affiliated scums, ya know."

"Touché. I've also got some snacks in here."

When Sam pushed his seat back, he yanked a backpack beneath it. Zipping it open and revealing packets of chips, cupcakes, and soda cans. He reached for a soda and popped it's cap open.

"Thank you," Bucky murmured, sighing deeply. "If we're gonna punch those assholes, we need all the energy we can get."

"True that," Sam replied, his lips quirking up at a corner. "I wished I'd sleep better before we left. I feel like my bones are gonna sink."

He tensed up and arched a brow. "What the. . . You didn't sleep well? That explains why you look exhausted."

"Uh huh." Sam sounded resigned. He shrugged. "Got a job to do, anyways. Sleep can wait."

"Hold on, I'm gonna go in there. And while you stay here."

"What? No! We're supposed to do this as a team."

"I know, I know. But you don't have enough energy and I do. I can destabilize those weapons before the Serpent Society could level them at the city."

"This sounds like a terrible idea."

"Pfft, as if most of them didn't work."

Bucky patted Sam's shoulder, peering into his dark brown eyes soft from concern. Sam's tight posture loosened and he sagged against his seat, nodding slowly.

"Alright. But be careful, Buck."

"Hey, I'll be back in a while. You'll see."

Sam chuckled, his expression fond. Bucky reveled in it, reaching for his door's handle.

As he pushed the door open, he started marching towards the trunk. Opening it and grabbing a duffle bag, which contained his gadgets and trusty equipment. Slamming it shut as he carried it.

With this plan, Bucky could finish this mission within an hour or so. He should probably have back-up, however, he probably could deal with it. Without much trouble.

***

#sbsummer23 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson x bucky barnes #ships: sambucky #sambucky fic #enchant: fanfics

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brienneoftarth1989 · 1 year

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Jealous

Larissa Weems x fem reader

Summary: - It’s the night of the Rave'N. You, Larissa and her ex were chaperones. What could go wrong?

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, nudity, implied smut

Requests open

———————————

It was that time of the year again. The annual Rave’N dance is tomorrow night and you and Larissa are getting the last minute preparations done for the dance. The theme for this year's dance was enchanted forest which was suggested by yourself. The hall itself was already set up. There are trees dotted all over the room with little battery powered candles perched on the branches.

There were tables along one side of the room which by tomorrow would be covered in food and drinks. You and Larissa were both currently attaching the fake flowers and candles to the archway which every student would walk through tomorrow evening.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you asked your loving girlfriend. “Of course I am. I get to spend the evening with you” she laughed putting the last flower on the archway before wrapping her arms around your waist pulling you into her chest.

You relaxed into her embrace just enjoying her company breathing in her scent which you never seemed to get tired of. “So who else is chaperoning tomorrow night then?” you asked just curious about who would be in attendance.

“Well me, you, Coach Vlad, Mr Fitts and Marilyn Thornhill” she said, still holding you in her embrace. You pulled away hearing one particular name. “Seriously, your ex is coming tonight. Why couldn’t you have asked someone else” you moaned stepping back. “I’m sorry no one else could do it. Trust me y/n I didn’t want to but I needed 5 chaperones and she was my last point of call” she said grabbing your hand trying to reassure you.

“Marilyn still has feelings for you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’m scared I’m going to lose you to her” you said just above a whisper. Larissa knew you could get jealous easily and that your anxiety would normally spike around subjects like this. “Oh darling. You’re the only person I want. No matter what happens I will only ever want you” she said pulling you back into her embrace.

You let your body relax once again. You hated Marilyn for always trying to flirt with Larissa and trying to do everything in her power to get her back and you knew she hated you for being with Larissa. “Tomorrow is going to be fine, sweetheart. My eyes will only be on you and no one else. Well maybe the students but mainly you” she laughed slightly.

This caused you to let out a little chuckle before leaning up giving her a small kiss on the lips. This moment was magical. Just the two of you surrounded by an enchanted forest so to speak. Once everything was done for the evening you and Larissa went back to your shared quarters.

It was currently 22:00 and you and Larissa decided to just put a film on and go to bed. You just got into one of Larissa’s shirts which was basically a short dress on you but you didn’t mind because it smelt like her and it comforted you. Larissa went to the bathroom to take her makeup off and to get into her pyjamas. While she did that you jumped on the bed and found a film to put on.

You ended up putting on Carol which was a film you both enjoyed. You pressed play on the film snuggling up in bed waiting for Larissa to join. When she had finally finished what she was doing she turned the light off and joined you in bed cuddling up close to you. “Goodnight my darling” she whispered in your ear which made you shiver. You could never get tired of this woman. “Night Rissa, I love you” you whispered back. “I love you too darling” she smiled, giving you a small peck on your lips before allowing you to cuddle up into her chest.

The next morning was another typical Friday. You and Larissa both got ready doing your separate things before sitting down at the table for breakfast. You had put together a bowl of cereal for yourself and a couple of slices of toast for Larissa with some fresh butter.

Today was going to be a pretty simple day for you both. Larissa was going to be doing her normal work until about 15:00. At that point the rest of her plans will be getting the last minute preparations for the Rave’N ready before getting ready at 17:00 so she can be at the dance at 18:00.

Your plans were slightly different. You had a class this morning at 9:00 for two hours. Then from 10:00 to 12:00 you had a free period so you would most likely spend time in your classroom just grading your students' work. Lunch was 12:00 till 13:00 so you would probably go down to the Weathervane to grab something to eat and drink for yourself and Larissa.

After lunch you had two classes. One being 13:00 till 14:00 and the other being 14:00 till 15:00. On a typical day classes would finish at 17:00 but due to the Rave’N being tonight a decision was made to finish classes at 15:00 so students had time to get ready before the dance. Everyone knew that not much learning would be done anyway today due to the excitement amongst staff and students.

After breakfast was done with you cleaned up and Larissa went into her office to start her work. You still had half an hour before you had to be anywhere so you decided to just chill in your shared room and finished watching the film where you knew you had fallen asleep.

At about 8:45 you realised you should probably get to your classroom. However you didn’t realise that Larissa had company in her office so there you were barging in to see Marilyn talking to Larissa about something you didn’t care about.

“So what are you wearing tonight then Larissa?” Marilyn asked, smirking while leaning on her desk ever so slightly. “I’m not sure yet but I don’t think it really concerns you Ms Thornhill” Larissa said sternly.

As you came out of your bedroom you decided to shut the door a bit louder than normal grabbing both of the women’s attention. Marilyn looked your way and her face dropped which made you feel superior ever so slightly.

“Marilyn” you said to her as you walked over to Larissa. “Y/n” she responded, giving you just as much sass as you gave her. All you did was eye Marilyn up and down before walking over to Larissa to say goodbye to her. “I will see you later on my love” you said smiling at her before leaning down and giving her a kiss on the lips.

You could feel Marilyn’s death stare on you but you weren't doing this to make her jealous. This is something that Larissa and you would do every morning and you weren’t going to change that today just because Marilyn had to come in before the day had even started, especially since her only concern was what Larissa was wearing.

“Goodbye darling, have a good day today I will see you later for lunch” Larissa said, caressing your hand before letting you go to start your busy day. You left her office smirking to yourself knowing that you got under Marilyn’s skin. You didn’t understand why she kept on bugging Larissa even though she knew that she was romantically involved with someone else. This is why you got jealous.

Your day went by relatively quickly. First lesson was a breeze, your free period was spent marking like you expected. You then joined Larissa for lunch before continuing your lessons in the afternoon. When you had finally finished for the day Larissa was still working in her office so you decided to leave her be while you did some extra marking to kill the time.

At about 16:30 you were starting to feel a bit peckish so made you and Larissa some ramen just to keep you full until this evening. You plated up the food before bringing Larissa’s out to her. “Hey darling, how are things going? I’ve bought you something to eat” you said, placing the food in front of Larissa. “Aww thank you sweetheart. I am almost finished with this and then I will come and join you” she said to you finishing the last email she was sending.

“Ok darling, don’t take too long though, your dinner will get cold” you chuckled knowing that Larissa is a workaholic and she could be another half an hour if she wanted to. After about five minutes she finally came through sitting down at the table both enjoying your early dinner. You both sat enjoying each other's company chatting about the day. You decided to go against bringing up the subject of Marilyn as it would just annoy the fuck out of you.

Once you had both finished eating you let Larissa go and get ready as she was most likely going to take longer than you. So while she started getting ready you washed up the bowls and cutlery. However Larissa was just getting in the shower when you had finished so you decided the only option was to join her.

You walked into the bathroom to see her clothes on the floor and her naked silhouette in the shower. You let out a soft whimper at the sight of your beautiful partner. You stripped off your own clothing sneaking into the shower. She still hadn’t realised you were there until you felt her jump slightly when you wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Hey sweetheart, you didn’t want to wait until I was out then?” she giggled slightly. “No” you laughed peppering kisses up her back and on her shoulders. “Come here then sweetheart” she said moving slightly so you could be in front of her. She always knew that you were the submissive one in the relationship and any kind of dominance was appreciated by you.

You leaned against Larissa’s body just enjoying her warm embrace as the hot water hit you both. You turned to face her with a massive grin on your face. “What are you smirking at?” she smirked back at you. “I’m smirking at my gorgeous girlfriend” you smiled leaning up giving her a soft yet passionate kiss. If you didn’t need to get ready you would have taken things further but instead you washed each other's bodies before getting out to start getting ready.

You left Larissa to do her own thing while you went off to get your suit on and do your hair. 20 minutes later you were ready and Larissa was still putting her makeup on. You knew it wouldn’t take you long but Larissa on the other hand always took her sweet old time. You didn’t mind though because you just sat back and enjoyed the beautiful sight in front of you.

It was about 17:50 when you had both finally finished getting ready. You were wearing a dark green suit while Larissa was a light green wavy dress which suited her so well. “You look beautiful Rissa” you smiled pulling her close to you. “Thank you y/n you look drop dead gorgeous” she smirked pulling you in for a kiss.

“Come on, we better get to the dance. We need to be there before the students arrive” you laughed before grabbing her hand and walking down to the main hall where the dance is being held. To no surprise you two were the first ones there. Then again you weren’t surprised the next person to arrive was Marilyn herself.

Why does this bloody woman have to be everywhere you go? You thought to yourself. However you had to be professional around the students so you did your job and let Larissa and Marilyn do theirs.

You had a great evening that night. You socialised with the kids and danced the night away. That was until the slow songs came on for the couples. You were in the toilet when they started but as soon as you realised they were playing you rushed back so you were able to dance with Larissa.

However the sight that was in front of you enraged you. There was Marilyn basically pulling at Larissa trying to get her on the dance floor. You could tell she was uncomfortable. She was doing her best to get Marilyn to go away and she was desperately searching the room to find you hoping you would rescue her from this situation.

Upon seeing this all unfold in front of you stormed over to Marilyn ripping her off your girl. “I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to get with my girl” you said through gritted teeth as you held Larissa’s hand about to make your way to the dance floor.

“Well if you remember correctly I had Larissa first” she said laughing slightly. This enraged you. “Ok first of all she is not some object that you have some magical claim to. You cheated on her and that's your loss and it now annoys you that she is finally living her life without you. Your a manipulating bitch who needs to get her priortires straight “ you said sternly giving her a look to say fuck off.

You lead Larissa to the dance floor in time for the final dance of the night. “That was hot seeing you riled up” Larissa whispered in your ear. “The bitch deserved it. Now come on let's dance. Maybe tonight you and I can dance away in bed if you know what I mean” you said smirking at the tall beauty.

“You’re so naughty,” she giggled. “Yeah but that’s why you love me” you said starting to dance with Larissa. “That’s very true. I love you too” she smiled back. Once the dance came to an end you helped clear up as much as you could before you and Larissa danced the night away in your bed.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #larissa weems #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #jealousy #Raven dance #nevermore academy #reader fanfiction #marilyn thornhill #enchanted forest #fem reader #jealous #brienneoftarth1989

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kris-creations · 6 months

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Here’s a link to the next chapter I just posted of my Disney Enchanted x Princess Tutu AU-

#Princess Tutu #ptutu #ptutu fanfic #Enchanting Princess Tutu #disney enchanted #enchanted x princess tutu au #princess tutu fakiru #fakiru

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convexicalcrow · 3 months

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The skeleton remembered...

It looked at its hand, seeing how it moved the way it would if those bones still had muscles and tendons and skin. Somehow, it could see. It could think. It could walk. Was it...? No, it wasn't alive. Undead, perhaps.

The skeleton remembered...

Armour? That was a thing, right? How did one... how did you make it? It had seen other skeletons in armour. Protection. From the sun. It had hands that could shoot a bow. Did that mean it also had hands that could craft things?

The skeleton remembered...

The village was quiet. The only real threat was the iron golem. If it was spotted, it would be... was dead the right word? un-undeaded? The skeleton thought that was a problem for other skeletons to think about.

It was here for the blacksmith though. They'd watched their craftsmanship, and saw them putting away some armour pieces. There was a fine iron helment in that forge if it could get it.

The skeleton remembered...

It had gone into the caves again. No armour, but a good pickaxe. Iron could be found down here. It could not carry much, being simply a skeleton, but it had crafted a small bag out of rabbit skin and hoped that would be enough to carry the iron back.

No iron, though, but a blue ore that shone with power. With magic. It was both hard, and slipped through its hands like fine dust. You could do something with this stuff. Something... You needed a table. And this powder. And then, what exactly?

The skeleton remembered...

It fastened the gold helmet on its skull, needing a few more leather straps to make it fit well. It had been scavenged from another skeleton, and it had some magic on it. It shone with a queer tint to it.

Now, the skeleton could abide the sun. For a while, at least. The helmet wasn't very strong, though, it could tell. It would break if it was out in the day too long.

The chestplate, though, that was its own making. Gold, too, as that's what it had seemed to find the most of. An abandoned village had provided the necessary tools to smelt and forge the gold into armour without the threat of an iron golem. Was it perfectly made? No. But the skeleton had proved it could craft things with its hands.

The skeleton remembered. The skeleton remembered it being night. That it had just... been there from wherever it had been previously, though they had no memory of what that was. Anther skeleton handed them a bow and some arrows. Said to fear the sun and to kill players if they saw any.

What was a player? The skeleton didn't remember that. But one night, when it did see an odd figure in the landscape, one wearing armour and bearing weapons, who did not move like villagers, well. The skeleton took aim, and its aim was perfect.

#minecraft #minecraft lore #skeletons #fanfic #in a manner of speaking #can you tell i've been grinding the skele farm too much #bc someone ordered six shulkers of bone blocks #and this is where my mind went earlier when i was kiling yet more skeletons #and pondering their armour choices (or lack thereof)#and the enchants they put on them #you know #normal person thoughts about skeletons while farming them for their bones and arrows and bows and armour

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fictionalsimp09 · 2 months

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“Do you know what would make this moment even better?” Regulus asks.

“What?”

Regulus picks up his phone and after a few delicate taps with his beautiful fingers once again laden with silver rings, music starts playing. James recognises this song after the first few guitar strums. Enchanted by Taylor Swift. He's a swiftie? Biggest green flag ever.

Regulus gets to his feet and reaches out a hand to James. As soon as he stands up, James’ date’s arms are around him. And they dance. Rather awkwardly at first, but they soon adapt to the rhythm. As the bridge of the song starts playing, James can’t help but start singing.

This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the story line ends My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon I was enchanted to meet you

James looks Regulus right in the eyes as he sung that last line. From Regulus’ waist, he moved his hands upwards until they were tangled in his hair. His hair is so soft. While maintaining eye contact, James edges his body closer to him, and does something that surprises himself. He makes the first move. He leans forwards, pausing just centimetres from Regulus’ face, giving him a chance to back away, but when he doesn’t, they start kissing. Slow and tender. James pulls away, and looks at Regulus as if to say, “Was that alright?” Regulus simply smiles at him before leaning in himself and kissing once again, but much more passionately this time.

When their lips finally part, Regulus breathes, “I really was enchanted to meet you.”

Read the rest of my fic on AO3, it's called Two Souls by fictional_simp09.

#marauders #jegulus #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #first date #dance #taylor swift #enchanted #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #two souls

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silversnowblossom · 1 year

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Alhaitham steps into the kitchen and snags Kaveh’s coffee, not because he can’t get his own—the coffee maker is really only a couple feet away—but because it’s far more entertaining watching Kaveh splutter in annoyance.

“Stop stealing my coffee,” Kaveh grumbles blearily, blond hair askew, and Alhaitham’s about to roll his eyes and keep sipping at it anyway, maybe offer a scathing remark about his roommate’s typical unkemptness in the morning, but—

Instead, he finds himself saying, “okay,” his body moving to set the coffee down without any conscious input on his part.

He’s not the only one surprised. Kaveh blinks at the coffee, then squints at Alhaitham. “Are you alright? You’re being awfully compliant today. That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham says distractedly, trying to figure out what just happened.

“Hm. If you say so.”

By the end of the morning, Alhaitham has concluded two things.

One: he's under a compulsion to obey any command given to him, whether the speaker intended for it to be an order or not.

And two: he can’t tell anyone about his condition. Not intentionally, anyway. He’s tried, with Kaveh, because as much as they bicker, there’s no one Alhaitham trusts more. He’d opened his mouth and his words lodged in his throat, unable or unwilling to escape. He’d tried to write it out, but his muscles locked, refusing to let him.

Kaveh's just going to have to figure it out himself, he supposes. It shouldn't be too hard.

Figuring out how this happened and how to resolve it on the other hand...

Well. This is going to be a headache and a half, Alhaitham can already tell.

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mybadlywrittenstories · 1 month

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Enchanted to meet you (Paul Lahote X OC) Part 2

Note: Hey guys this is just a quick little chapter but I assure you all I will be posting another very quickly Word Count: 856

Aeon and Jen laid in bed most of the night, after their daughter had interrupted the meeting with the shifters, things ended quickly afterwards. To most people, the change in the atmosphere would’ve been almost undetectable, however both Aeon and Jen were magic users and could feel like slight shimmer in the room as their eldest daughter Amelia made eye contact with one of the shifters, Paul Lahote. They both were very familiar with the wolf shifters lore, and very aware of the imprinting bond that had an unbreakable hold on them. Aeon had very swiftly ushered the pack towards the basement where they had set up a temporary guest bedroom situation for them—while Jen stayed sat on the couch. Complete and Utter Rage barely remaining contained.

“I don’t know how you can be so okay with this.” Jen gritted through her teeth, casting a sideways glare at the side of her husband’s head. His face was smooth and serene, if it had anyone else gazing upon him, they would’ve assumed him to be asleep; however, she knew better.

“You know, just as I do, that we are no match against fate, My dear.” His tone didn’t portray any emotion as he spoke, which made Jen’s blood boil.

“This isn’t her fate, Aeon.” She propped herself up on her elbow as she turned to fully face him, “Amelia is supposed to take over the Coven, not fall into some story-tale romance with a shifter of all people! We both know just how unruly and short tempered the shifters can be, and you’re just going to sit back and accept it?”

“My love,” He began opening his eyes to meet hers, “You know that I love you and the girls more than anything else in this entire realm. If I genuinely believed he posed some danger, of course I would be concerned. I do not mean to offend you my dear, but I fear you may be judging them a little too swiftly. Yes, the shifters are a formidable enemy, however only if you make them the enemy. The same wolf blood that causes their short tempers is also the same blood that makes them fiercely loyal and protective of those around them. You have also not seen them in battle, I have. Those few years ago when I was called upon to witness for the Cullens, I saw two wolf packs, fighting alongside each other all to protect the imprint of one of the wolves.” Aeon paused to look into the eyes of his wife and could tell the flame of her worry and anger had not been extinguished. “What else is troubling your mind?” He reached out gently, tracing the side of her face moonlit face.

“I just…” She breathed out, leaning into the loving touch of her husband, “She has barely lived, Aeon. Now, she’s supposed to go run off to Vegas and get married? How will she know this is what she wants?”

Aeon let out a breathy laugh. “No, my sweet, sweet, Jenny, I think you misunderstand the imprint bond.” The corners of his mouth tug into a small smile as he sees the look of confusion spread across her features. “Yes, the young man that is sleeping in our basement this very second, could possibly become the future lover of our daughter. That, however, is not for certain. All we can know at this moment is that he will be there for her, through thick and thin, protecting her and loving her in any way she needs, whether that is the love of a brother, best friend, or Lover. All this means for our daughter is that no matter what, she will always have someone by her side who has her best interests in mind.”

“Oh.” Is all she could say as she attempted to shift her way of thinking. A thick blanket of anxiety was wrapped tightly around her heart as she tried to consider what this means for her eldest daughter. If she was to take over the coven, she would benefit from a bodyguard. Having that much power in the magical world did come with a target on her back, and this Paul could make out to be a good protector.

She shook her head gently, dispelling the positive look she had taken on the situation, she still did not like this at all. She raised her daughters to pave their own road in life, not let anyone hold them back. This seemed all too… all too…

She let out a groan of frustration, letting her head fall onto her husband’s chest, as her mind failed to conjure the proper words to describe the feelings eating away at her. Aeon simply entangled his fingers into her hair and gently massaged her scalp, pressing a small kiss on top her head, “It will be alright, I assure you. Give it some time and I promise you will see.”

That was the final words exchanged between the two parents that night, they slipped into a deep sleep not long after, both minds full of thoughts of their dear daughter, Amelia.

#oc #twilight #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x amelia boleyn #paul lahote #wolf pack #twilight fanfic #witch #fae #twilight sage #au #enchanted to meet you #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic

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alearicci · 9 months

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“I can't see your tears” – DR3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x ann miller!oc

summary: everyone, even the most smiling people, needs support in difficult times. and you are really lucky if you have someone to turn to for support.

a little warning: a bit sad, but with a happy ending.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ♡ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Daniel Ricciardo, known for his always cheerful and positive image in public, has always been a source of optimism and joy for his fans. Who can resist Danny Ric's beautiful smile? It is rare to see him sad or sad, but one day there came a moment in his life when the burden of fatigue and failures became unbearable.

For many years, Daniel has dazzled the racing world with his infectious smile, quick wit and excellent driving skills. He seemed invincible, always maintaining an unshakable positive energy that radiated to everyone around him. But, nevertheless, the pressure of sports and constant attention took their toll. The fatigue of competing at the highest level and the burden of unfulfilled expectations began to exhaust him, making him vulnerable and exhausted.

One evening, after a seemingly endless string of frustrating races, Daniel found himself overwhelmed by these emotions. Such accumulated and unpleasant emotions that did not allow breathing normally. Tears welled up in his eyes when the weight of it all became too much. In this moment of vulnerability, he sought solace in the loving arms of his beloved girlfriend Ann Miller.

He stopped in front of her and looked at her with his tired eyes. Daniel tightly clenched his hand into a fist, trying to restrain himself and not shed a single tear. He tried to be strong, even though he knew that next to her he could be anyone and still be loved.

As soon as Ann looked at the love of her life, her heart skipped a beat. The smile disappeared from her face and she immediately hurried to come closer to hug her chosen Australian racer.

"Let's go sit down, my happiness, you can barely stand on your feet from fatigue," she said understandingly, and when Dan nodded, Ann gently led him to the sofa.

Daniel collapsed on the sofa, covering his face with his hands. He recently returned home after another disappointing day at the racetrack, and his usually cheerful and positive facade collapsed under the weight of fatigue and failures.

"Come to me, Danny," Ann whispered and patted Ricciardo on the shoulder. Then she opened her arms, inviting him into her arms. He removed his hands from his face and moved a little, lay down on Ann's chest. Ricciardo buried his face in the curve of Ann's neck, inhaling her familiar scent and feeling the warmth of her presence.

At first there was silence in the room, in which soft sobs could sometimes be distinguished. Daniel held onto Ann like a lifeline. She was his lifeline.

She knows how much pressure he faces as a Formula 1 driver, and that at such moments he needs her support, he needs her to be there. Ann gently stroked his hair, trying to calm him down a little and at the same time let these tears flow.

"Ann, I..."

Daniel's voice was trembling, his fatigue was evident in his trembling body.

"I'm tired, and it seems that everything is going wrong. "I gave my all in training, but it wasn't enough. I'm disappointed in myself."

Ann, understanding and sympathetic, hugged Daniel to her, caressing his back with soothing strokes. She knew that it was important for him to release the pent-up emotions that had been accumulating in him for too long. Her gentle kisses on his forehead brought light, but so much needed consolation.

When Daniel's sobs gradually subsided, Miller gently takes his beloved's head in his hands and pulls back a little to look into his eyes. He does not open his eyes because he does not dare to show his vulnerability so directly. She wipes the rest of her tears with her thumb and gently strokes the man's cheek.

"My beloved Daniel... You've achieved so much, honey, and that's not the limit. Remember all the victories, moments of pure joy. This is just a temporary setback, part of the ups and downs of this sport. You have overcome difficulties before, and you will cope again. I will always be with you, my curly-haired boy, whom I love more than life." Ann said and smiled gently.

Daniel sobbed, muffled sobs escaping his lips.

"But I just wanted to achieve more. I wanted everyone to be proud, especially me. I feel like I've let everyone down."

There was a gentle determination in Ann's voice as she kissed him lightly on the lips, her love for him radiating with every gentle touch.

"Danny, listen to me. You've never let anyone down. Many people admire your dedication, perseverance and passion. I admire you."

At that moment, Daniel felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that Ann was by his side. Her love and unwavering support served as a pillar of strength, reminding him that there is more to life than just fighting on the track and constantly striving for success. He clung to her words, finding solace in the confidence she gave. With every stroke of her hand and every word of encouragement he said, he felt his heart gradually healing. The release of his emotions brought a sense of relief, as he allowed himself to accept and show his beloved girlfriend a different side of himself.

The love they shared provided him with a refuge from the harsh realities of the racing world, allowing him to recharge and rediscover his true self.

When the tears finally subsided, Daniel looked at Ann, and a mute gratitude flashed in his eyes. Gratitude for allowing him to open up and get rid of unnecessary emotions. He bent down to her face and kissed her lips. The kiss turned out to be wet and a little salty from tears, but it was too necessary and pleasant for both.

"Thank you for always being there for me, Annie. Your love and support mean the whole world to me. You mean the whole world to me," Daniel said and smiled weakly. "I love you, darling."

She smiled warmly, wiping away the remaining tears.

"I will always be there for you, Daniel. Through ups and downs, victories and failures. I believe in you with all my heart and that everything will get better. Time, my love. Time will put everything in its place. Your happiness means the whole world to me, but your well-being is just as important. Use this time to rest, heal and remember what is really important in life. Together we will withstand any storm. And I love you, very much."

With these words, Ann reached for the blanket and covered her rider from the whole world. He needed to rest now.

As her words echoed in his heart, Daniel clung to Ann more tightly, feeling a new sense of hope and determination. The fatigue and failure he felt at that moment began to dissipate, replaced by a steely determination to get back to normal stronger than ever.

As long as they stayed in each other's arms, their love gave comfort and strength that no success or failure on the race track could destroy. In the comfort of their connection, they found the courage to face the challenges ahead, knowing that their unwavering support for each other will guide them through the most difficult times.

The tears he shed that day were not a sign of weakness, but evidence of the depth of his passion and desire to succeed.

With renewed strength and determination, Daniel returned to the racing arena, his smile became a little brighter, and his spirit became a little stronger. And as he raced towards his future, deep down he knew that together with Ann he would be able to weather any storm and overcome any obstacles that would come his way.

#oneshot #daniel ricciardo #ric3 #danny ric #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 2023 #formula one #enchante #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x ofc #dr3 #alearicci

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