Lights, Camera, Magic ✨ 🎥 🪄 chapter 54
I want you to film me when you’re not recording
I want you to see me when you’re not looking
I want you to fuck me when we’re not touching
I want you to judge me like the second coming
Hello 🖤 I'm back, and the next chapter of LCM is here at last (I'd be loathe to return empty-handed...).
There's a lot I want to say, but mostly I just want to thank everyone that's still hanging in there and reading this wild ride a whole 54(!) chapters in. And an even bigger thank you to those of you who checked in while I was away. I aim to respond to you all, and I'm sorry for taking so long to update. I truly hope (and very much think) this chapter makes up for it. Shoutout to my incredible beta reader @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for always being an absolute SAINT, and to @agathaspett for her beautiful edits and for helping me find the perfect images for what's to come...
Please read the author's note, make use of the jump link if you wish to. Most importantly, HYDRATE for this one. You'll need it.
See you all on the other side.
There’s something so laughably insulting about the proverb, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Because when you open the front door of your now-empty apartment thanks to your roommate and her Emmys-watching entourage apparently deciding to take the remainder of their Monday night elsewhere, the sight of Agatha on your doorstep puts that saying to shame.
Because there’s nothing “fond” about the way she stands there, looking at you like you’re the only place she was ever meant to end up.
It’s barely been 5 minutes since you left her waiting in her car while you checked the coast was clear, before texting her with a racing heart and shaking thumbs:
You’d held your breath after sending it, doing your best to shoo away the intrusive thoughts that insisted she could still run.
That she might decide this was too much, too close to “normal”.
That instead of waiting, parked down the street where you’d left her, she’d already be halfway down the 10, speeding back to her lonely mansion while you, blissfully unaware, checked whether it was safe, or whether you were going to have to sneak her in through your bedroom window like teenagers breaking curfew.
Any doubt disappears the moment you hear 3 knocks at your apartment door.
And when you open it, there stands the woman who holds everything.
