#it was obscenely good and the first thought i had near the end was to re read it

[choisanboobenthusiast]

Princess

Pairing: sub!mingi x fem reader

Genre: smut MDNI

Word count: 3.0k

Summary: Mingi is inexperienced, you're not. He finally feels ready to take the next steps in your relationship and you find he is surprisingly more subby than you would have thought.

Warnings: fingering, oral both receiving, established relationship, begging, overall sublike behaviors portrayed by Mingi, reader is a little bit of a switch if you squint? Idk not a lot of warnings here, Mingi has a huge dick and you give him the sloppy toppy, okay? please let me know if I need to add something

a/n: Considering a part two on this based on how well it is received. Personally I live and breathe sub Mingi so I wouldn’t be opposed to a second part. This is my first smut oneshot so any feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

Part two

You and Mingi had fooled around plenty of times in the near month you two had been dating but things had never escalated to sex. Sure, things got heated but the night usually ended with you naked beneath him as he got you off on his tongue and fingers while he still had his pants on. He was never shy about shedding his shirt, always proud to show off the top half of his body. And why wouldn't he be? He'd worked hard to achieve his current physique.

But when it came to sex you knew he was a little nervous, having only gone that far on a few occasions whereas you were pretty experienced. You never pushed him in that direction, wanting him to be completely comfortable before he got fully undressed with you. And he seemed pretty content with just getting you off, not like you were complaining about that but you wanted to make him feel good too.

Your current situation wasn't much different from any of the other times you two had gotten frisky. You'd gone to Mingi's for a night in of watching your favorite show and eating lots of crappy snacks. A couple episodes in though Mingi had started to trail his hand up your thigh, squeezing it slightly. This wasn't always sexual for him, he really just liked to be close to you. So you didn't give it a second thought, enjoying the feeling of his big, warm hands on you as you cuddled. Mingi was a bit like an oven mixed with one of those giant teddy bears, you always felt small and cozy in his arms. It wasn't until his hand inched closer to your core and his lips pressed softly to your neck that you began to take notice of his actions. You weren't surprised, date nights in often took a turn like this.

He continued to leave small, gentle kisses on your neck while his hand massaged the inside of your thigh. You quickly abandoned your tv show and turned your face toward him. He had a somewhat pleading look in his eyes, he always did, although you'd never actually told him no.

Things escalated rather quickly after that, your tv show now being drowned out by your steady stream of moans and gasps as Mingi worked two of his large fingers inside you. He was taking his time, teasing you by not touching your clit and not increasing his pace just yet. Oh no, not until you asked him for it. He loved to hear your voice whine for him and he knew it would if he was patient. And my god, was he patient. Of course he loved pleasuring you but he loved drawing it out too and he was good at it. Better than anyone you'd ever been with. Besides, he just couldn't deny how hard your breathless little voice made him.

"Mingi..." You sighed exasperatedly, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You knew it's what he wanted and you weren't going to deny him anything right now. "Your mouth, please."

God, he loved it when you asked. He could feel himself growing harder at your request, if that was even possible at this point. He didn't make you ask twice, feeling insatiable himself, and quickly buried his face in between your thighs. You gasped and gripped the couch cushions as he latched his lips onto your clit. You couldn't help the obscenities that rolled off your tongue as he continued sucking on your sensitive bud, finally speeding up the pace in which he fucked you with his fingers.

With his free hand he pressed one of your legs back, your knee and shoulder nearly meeting. You ground onto his face, not being able to control yourself anymore as your hands left their place on the couch cushions and pulled on his short hair. You stared down at the mess of black and blonde between your thighs, thinking you might be pulling too hard. That is until he looked up at you, tongue still lapping at your clit, his eyes more needy than ever. You tugged experimentally and he choked out a whimper. Of course you had pulled Mingi's hair before, you knew he enjoyed it to a certain extent but you'd never been so aggressive with it.

"You like that?" You questioned, your tone genuine.

He nodded and paused for a brief moment to say "pull harder."

You did as he asked and he moaned around your clit, the vibrations of his deep voice causing you to jolt. Mingi had displayed sub-like behaviors before on occasion, usually when you were sitting on his face, which he'd told you was his favorite position to eat you in. A few seconds passed and he pulled away hastily, toppling over you and bringing your lips into a messy kiss, your wetness still coating his mouth. You whined as he removed his fingers from inside you and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Let's go to my room." He said lowly, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling you up off the couch.

You held onto him tightly as he began walking the both of you toward his bedroom, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs to keep you from falling. You played with his hair and nipped at his neck as your naked body rubbed against his clothed one as he hadn't even managed to peel his shirt off yet. You began grinding against him as best you could in the position you were in. You just couldn't help yourself, you could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants.

"Want you to grind like that on my face, baby." He whispered in your ear before lying down on his back with you hovering above him. You didn't answer and instead continued to kiss his neck and his jaw, loving all the little sounds you were pulling out of him. He groped your ass, attempting to push you upwards to get you where he wanted you. "Please." He whined. "Wanna taste you again. Please baby."

"Okay, but take this off first." You tugged at his white t-shirt and sat back on your heels.

"Whatever you want." He replied quickly, almost as if he didn't mean to say it, like it was a confession and began pulling his shirt over his head.

"Whatever I want, hm?" You questioned and he stopped midway through removing his top, holding it over his face.

"Yes." He answered quietly, the words muffled by the fabric covering his mouth. "Whatever..." He took a deep breath. "Whatever you want."

You giggled at him and his sudden shyness. He had only ever been shy like this towards the beginning of your relationship when he'd admitted to you that he was super inexperienced. You didn't mind though, secretly taking pleasure in teaching him, especially because he was very eager to learn just how to pleasure you. He'd done all the basics before but just like with sex he had really only done them a handful of times. He had quickly become super comfortable with you and you wondered now if his sudden word vomit meant what you thought it did.

"Mingi?" You pushed his shirt over his head, revealing his pink tinted cheeks. He averted your gaze immediately as his cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. "You mean whatever I want?" He nodded silently, his lips pressed together tightly. You chuckled at him again, assisting him in removing his shirt completely and tossing it to the side. "So... if I told you to take these off too?" You fingered the band of his sweatpants and ground yourself onto his cock. He whined in response, finally working up the courage to look you in the eye.

"Y-yeah." He breathed out. "I'll take 'em off."

You bent down to kiss him, hands wandering over his toned chest. "I'll do it for you, baby." You said quietly in his ear.

You were slow with your actions, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. You kissed down his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the skin of his collarbone as his breathing got heavier. He was raking his fingers through your hair, holding it away from your face gently as he watched you go lower and lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down his abdomen. The muscles in his stomach tensed when you palmed him through his sweatpants and he sucked in sharply.

You had waited for this for a while, what felt like quite a long time. You were excited to finally be able to give back to him what he had given to you so many times. Not only that but you were dying to know what he looked like from the waist down, what he tasted like and what he felt like, in every sense of the word. You had certainly felt him through his pants pretty often so you had a fairly good idea of his size, you knew he was big but you could only tell so much with a barrier in place.

After what felt like a very long time of nothing but kissing and touching his chest and his arms you finally hooked your fingers into the top of his sweatpants. You shuffled your body down to rest around his knees and carefully began pulling the fabric down his hips. You very quickly realized he wasn't wearing any boxers as he lifted himself slightly off the bed to allow you to pull his pants down further.

"No underwear?" You teased, deciding to test the waters. "Naughty boy."

He gulped and stuttered. "I-I knew you were coming over so I didn't... put any on." You couldn't lie, he was adorable like this. With his face flushed, ears pink and that same pleading look in his eyes. There was no denying it, he liked the way you were treating him.

You had to stop yourself from audibly gasping upon getting his pants down his thighs, seriously. This is what he's been hiding? You thought before gently wrapping your hand around the base, your fingers unable to meet. "Mingi, you're... huge." You placed your other hand around him, running your thumb over his sensitive tip, already leaking precum. He choked out a sound you'd never heard him make before as his hands flew to cover his face. Was he embarrassed? Usually men of his size were more than happy to show it off. You wondered if this was why it had taken him so long to be intimate in this way with you.

"Sorry, I-I know I'm big. Maybe I should have said something or.. I don't know." He rambled. "We can stop if you want."

"Stop?" You began running your hands up and down his length. "Mingi, why on earth would I want to stop?"

"Cause aren't you kind of ungh i-intimidated?" His hands flew to fist the sheets, eyebrows furrowing as you continued your slow motions. "I don't wanna hurt you." He cringed at his own words.

"Don't worry about me. I promise, I'll be fine." You shifted off his legs, releasing your grasp around him and pulling his pants all the way down his legs. You'd always known Mingi had huge thighs but getting to see them like this had you drooling. You ran your hands over his tense muscles and he shivered beneath your touch, looking at you with desperation, plush lips parted ever so slightly. "I bet you don't really know how to use this thing, huh?" You teased, stroking him a single time. His breath hitched and he shook his head.

"Sh-show me." His voice nearly a whimper. "Like you showed me everything else."

He was unbelievably hot like this, naked, sprawled out on the bed for you with his face scrunched and chest heaving. So desperate to be touched. You knew you could get him to beg for it. You knew that he wanted to. You danced your fingertips lightly over his cock and ran your hand up his chest, resting it softly at the base of his neck.

"You want me to show you?" You asked, kissing his shoulder. He nodded quickly. You brought your lips up to his ear and whispered. "Big boys use their words."

"Yes, I want you to show me." He answered, his voice quiet and deep.

"Hmm." You trailed your fingers across his collarbone and over his chest, testing another boundary by grazing one of his nipples. He sucked in sharply. "It doesn't sound like you want it that bad."

"I-I do!" He protested. "I do want it, please, I want it so bad."

"Okay, since you asked so nicely." You smirked, shifting to straddle his legs again as your hands wrapped around his cock, stroking gently. The idea of riding his face now long forgotten as you continued to pump him slowly, avoiding his sensitive head to tease him.

His hands were still fisted in the sheets as he watched you. The sight of your tiny hands around his huge cock enough to cause his muscles to tighten and his breath to quicken. His eyebrows strung together as breathy little moans fell from his parted lips and his hands flew to clutch at your thighs as his hips began to buck up every now and then.

"Please." He mumbled, fingers pressing harshly into your flesh. "Please, more."

"Oh Mingi, you beg so nice for me." You finally allowed your thumb to swipe over the head of his cock while you stroked him, earning you a string of whines as he pressed his head back into the pillow.

"Fuuuck." He groaned.

"You want more?" You asked, quickening your pace just slightly. "Want me to suck you off?"

"Fuck yes." He answered, squeezing your thighs.

"Gonna be a good boy and sit still for me?" You shuffled further down his legs, his hands falling back onto the sheets.

"Yes, I'll be good, I promise." He breathed.

"Who knew you were such a sub, Mingi?" Before he could utter another word you took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it gently and running your tongue along the slit. His hands flew into your hair immediately, aiding you in keeping it away from your face while also enjoying the image of your lips wrapped around him. He was too large to fit all of him in your mouth but you tried you best, taking in as much of him as you could until he hit the back of your throat. Once you had as much of him in your mouth as you could manage you peered up at him and god, was he a sight. Mouth agape, body glistening with sweat as his large chest heaved and his eyes stared back at you. You began moving your mouth up and down his length at a languid pace, making sure to hold eye contact with him and keeping a hand on the base of his cock to jerk off what didn't fit in your mouth. Your other hand massaged his hip and thigh gently as you continued your ministrations.

"Feels mmph feels so good." He brought his lower lip in between his teeth as he continued to watch you bob your head up and down his length, the muscles in his abdomen flexing over and over again involuntarily.

You popped your mouth off of him momentarily to take a breath, a string of your spit and his precum connecting your lips to his leaking member. As you caught your breath you licked him like a popsicle, relishing in all the pretty noises you were pulling out of him, sounds you'd never heard him make before, moans and whimpers you could listen to on repeat.

"I'm gonna cum." He suddenly announced, his grip on your hair tightening.

"Already?" You mocked, flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip.

"Unngh, yes." He whined, his body beginning to writhe beneath you, eyes closing tightly. "Please, please put me back in your mouth." He pleaded desperately. "Wanna cum in your mouth, please."

"Do you think you've earned that?" You began to suck on his cockhead again and he groaned loudly. You loved how vocal he was being, never having heard him like this before.

"I will!" He cried. "I'll do whatever you want just, fuck, please let me."

You didn't make him beg anymore and took him back into your mouth quickly. His hips bucked up at the feeling of your hot mouth enveloping him again and in seconds he was moaning louder than ever before. "C-cumming, I'm uhhnf-" His voice caught in his throat as he released in your mouth, holding your head down until the tip of his cock nudged at your throat. You couldn't help but choke around him as you did you best to swallow his load, surprised by his sudden movements. After a few moments his dick stopped twitching and he released his hold on your head. You came off him with a gasp, wiping the remnants of his cum from your lips and chin with your hand. He lied breathless beneath you as his cock began to soften, eyes still closed.

"Mingi..." you moved to straddle his waist, hovering above him, not quite letting your bodies touch. You stroked your hands gently over his chest and took his flushed face in your hands before kissing him roughly. He moaned into your mouth as your tongues slid over one another's, not seeming to care that you tasted like him. His hands fell weakly on your hips, tugging slightly, urging your body to make contact with his. "Mingi." You repeated, petting his hair softly, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at you.

"Hmm?" He questioned, a tiny content smile on his lips.

"Would you look at me a second?" You giggled. He opened his eyes then, although only about halfway. "Do you want to keep going? You seem a little... sleepy?"

"No, no, I'm not sleepy!" He protested. "Just felt so good." He sighed happily. "You're really... you're really good at that." He confessed with a grin.

"Thank you." You smiled genuinely down at him. "You did so good for me." He blushed at your praise and gave the flesh of your hips a languid squeeze.

It's not long before Mingi is rummaging through his nightstand, searching for a condom, while you discard that last bit of clothing you had on, eager to continue.

part 2…

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez mingi #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot

[moonlightndaydreams]

hey ml, i love your work so so sooo much so i thought i’d send a request!! Could you do a fem reader x chan or lee know where reader is very shy and she unconsciously plays with his happy trail? (leads into smut)

@ihrtlix 😘 Naww thanks so much! I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying my little fics! What a wonderful request 🤗 (I’m baby clapping over here). I ended up choosing Chan because I don’t think I’ve written him for a long time (outside of 3Racha and group stuff). I hope you enjoy xxx.

CW: size kink, stretch kink, blowjob, fingering, orgasms, surprise daddy kink, reader is a virgin.

🫠🫠🫠🫠

“Something on your mind babygirl?” Chan stroked your shoulder. “You seem like you want to say something.”

You and your new boyfriend Chan were laying on his bed watching a movie on his wall mounted tv.

He was topless and only wearing thin sweatpants, the type that doesn’t hide anything.

You’d notice he’d been shamelessly hard for the past fifteen minutes. The same amount of time you’d been absentmindedly been playing with his happy trail.

You weren’t sure if your touch was what was keeping him hard, but all you knew is that you wanted to see, to touch him, there.

You bit your lip. “Channie?” You say timidly.

“Babygirl. Talk to me. You can tell me absolutely anything.” He kissed your cheek.

Your shaky hand moved closer to his waistband and you swallowed nervously.

“You want to see what you do to me, hmm?” He smirked. Your cheeks reddened.

He shimmied his sweatpants down, revealing his very hard, very large cock. Your eyes widened. It was thick and heavy, leaking, and laid against his taut abs. It had obscenely prominent veins and an angry leaking tip.

It’s too big. How will that ever fit inside you. You were a virgin. He’s going to split you apart.

Yet your mouth watered at the sight of him, and your pussy clenched at the thought of him making it fit into your tight little virgin hole.

“You can touch it if you want. Taste it, even.” Chan encouraged you, stroking your back softly.

Your eyes snapped up to his. “He won’t bite.” He chuckled softly. His eyes were soft and encouraging, not a hint of expectation for you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

You kneeled beside Chan and wrapped your hand around his cock near the base. Chan hissed through his teeth, and more precum oozed from the tip.

You’d been so nervous to make a first move, but now that you had him in your hand you felt an urge to please him. You wanted to do good. You wanted to show him that you’d thought about doing this for weeks.

You licked the precum from the tip. Chan whimpered. Then you took your mouth to the bottom of the shaft and licked the underside of his cock from base to top. Chan groaned this time.

“Babygirl! Have you done this before?” He asked, surprised by your methods.

“I might be a virgin, but I’ve done this lots.”

“Lots?” He sat up and looked at you shocked.

“Well… I had this guy friend, Jisung. I used to practice on him.” You said like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t. He was just a childhood friend, that when you became teenagers let you practice sucking his cock.

“He wasn’t as big as you.” You added and began to sink your mouth down over his cock.

Chan flopped back on the bed.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, babygirl.” He moaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. You spent the next five minutes giving Chan your everything. Taking in as much you could. Using your hand to give a little twist on the upstroke, you didn’t forget his balls either.

Chan wasn’t a quiet guy. He moaned loudly, cursing constantly, sometimes he’d make a high pitched wine. It made you so wet. Would he sound like if you were to ride him in the future?

You felt his hand caress the back of your thigh.

“Babygirl, can I cum on your pussy?” He panted. “Please? It’d look so hot.” He rocked his hips, sending his thick cock further into your throat.

You popped off just long enough to answer “yes” then sunk down as far as you possible could. You used your hand to squeeze and stroke what couldn’t fit.

“That’s is… that’s it.. fuck…yes… okay quick! On your back.”

He swiftly laid you on your back and pulled your shorts and soaked panties off.

He knelt between you legs and pushed the tip of his cock up and down through your glistening labia while he pumped his length. You whimpered as your cunt begged you to ask him to put it inside.

“Fuck!” He cried out. With his eyebrows furrowed, he spurted ropes of cum all over the your pussy.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to see what mess he’d made. There was so much.

Chan took his finger to your pussy, smearing his cum all over your clit and down to your entrance.

“Babygirl.” He said as he rubbed your swollen clit. “Did this Jisung ever put his fingers inside you?”

You shook your head. “Only mine have been in there.”

Chan raised an eyebrow. “And how many fingers does Babygirl fuck herself with?” He purred.

“Three!” You panted.

“Three? So two of mine should be fine then?” He concluded.

He scooped up as much cum and your arousal on his middle and index finger as he could and pressed them inside your tight heat.

You whimpered at the stretch.

“That’s it. I know it’s a big stretch. Channie’s got you, yeah? Relax for me”

He finger fucked you gently, watching your reactions. When you were crying and babbling incoherently, he curled his fingers to dig into your sweet spot. You automatically started your rock your hips, seeking more. More friction, more intensity. Your fingers flung to your clit. You were about to break. You needed to cum.

“That’s it, babygirl. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.”

Daddy? Oh god that sent you over the edge. You cried out as your walls pulsed around Chan’s fingers. He helped you through it until the overstimulation was too much, and he withdrew them and held you close as you quivered from the intensity of your release.

After a few minutes, Chan ran you a bath and helped you clean up before snuggling in next to you in bed.

“Channie?” You said softly.

“Yes babygirl.”

“Next time I want you inside me.” You felt your cheeks go red and you were grateful the lights were off.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” He smiled to himself.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @chansbabyg

#chan smut #sorsha ask box #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut

[forlorn-crows]

Mountain Recording Himself dominating the shit out of Rain and Dewdrop, He Gives the tape to Aether? Aether gets it, Watches it, his phone rings and it's rain Moaning out Aether's name?

jesus fucking christ

listen...i just wanna preface...if you see the word "daddy" in this fic no you didnt

*ping*

Mountain: I’ve got a treat for you.

It’s a somewhat cryptic text for 4pm on a Tuesday. Aether hasn’t really been doing much all day besides lay around and strum out the random solo or two during practice. He had been trying to take a nap when Mountain texted him. He squints at the sentence, reluctantly rolling over to reply properly.

Aether: Oh?

Aether: Tell me more.

He puts his phone down, stares at it with lazy curiosity. It could really be anything—a picture of a rare plant he cultivated, a picture of an actual edible treat, a link to a song recommendation, maybe a picture of himself naked in the mirror…

*ping*

Mountain: 1 video attachment.

Mountain: Tell me when you’ve watched it.

Aether catches a glimpse of the preview image, blurry and nondescript.

Aether: Why do I feel like you’re about to jumpscare me?

Mountain: Watch. Now.

Aether smirks.

Aether: Okay bossy.

He clicks on the video, wholly unprepared for what he finds. Mountain’s holding his phone near his thigh, or what Aether assumes is his thigh. He can only see a sliver of leg and darkness for the first few seconds, but soon he raises the camera to pan across both Rain and Dewdrop’s faces, obscenely flushed and desperate where they’re on their knees below him.

“Oh f-fuck,” Aether mutters.

From what he can tell, Mountain’s still fully clothed, at least from the waist down. Rain and Dew are both fully naked, cocks hard between their legs. The earth ghoul hovers his boot—fuck, his boot?—over Dew’s cock, not quite touching. His mouth falls open at the suggestion of touch. Aether can physically see him struggling not to buck into the rugged sole. Mountain, no doubt, punished him already for doing just that, judging by the handprints on his face and purple marks around his nipples.

The huff of a laugh ghosts over the microphone as Mountain pulls back. The camera pans to Rain’s face, eyes lidded and glassy. Mountain combs a hand through his hair and pulls, exposing that pale column of a throat. Rain struggles to focus, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he whines beautifully.

The video ends too soon. Aether whimpers as he shifts his weight, cock already fattening up beneath him.

“Fucking seven hells,” he says under his breath, staring at the frozen frame of Rain’s long neck.

Aether: Fuck you

Aether: devious bastard

He rolls back over so he can palm at his cock through his sleep shorts. He can only imagine how deep they both are, submitting for Mountain like its their job, high on that delicious haze the earth ghoul induces so well.

He’s just about to pull his cock out of his pants when his phone rings.

“Shit, fucking hell—” It’s Mountain. Of course it is.

“Mount what the—” the words die on his lips as he hears a moan float through the speaker, followed by Mountain’s voice:

Yeah, fucking take it.

That sends another spike of interest straight to his cock. He considers hanging up, he really does. But another moan squelches the thought. It’s loud and wanton, not so muffled this time. It’s immediately recognizable as Rain, high and feminine.

Tell Aether how much you want it.

His eyes go wide and his cock kicks in response, fully at attention now. Any thoughts of a butt-dial fly out the window at the sound of his name on Mountain’s lips.

Hng, w-want it so bad. Oh Aethe—

He can tell Mountain bottoms out by the way Rain chokes off the end of his sentence.

Good boy, such a wet fucking slut, aren’t you?

“Oh Lucifer, Mountain,” Aether mumbles. He puts his phone on speaker, abandoning it to get both hands on his cock. He can vaguely hear Dew whine in the background, probably forced to watch them as punishment, hands behind his back, cock ruddy and leaking…

‘M your slut, yours—ah—yours—

There’s a sound of a hand connecting to skin, followed by Rain mewling.

Be a good pet, tell our darling Aether what he really wants to hear.

Rain whines self-consciously, panting hard. He tries to get the words out, but they’re caught in his throat, mingling with his unbidden moans. Mountain’s really pounding into him, the sound of his hips snapping against Rain’s ass is audible even through the phone. Aether lets out his own whine, thumbing over the head of his cock and squeezing the base.

There’s rustling against the speaker, and suddenly Rain’s breath is right there, huffing into the receiver.

Go on.

Rain lets out a long, drawn-out moan that goes straight to Aether’s cock.

Mmpf, need you d-daddy, please—oh fuck!

And oh, those words are deliciously sinful, a rare treat. “Fuuuck, that’s a good boy, Rainey,” he breathes.

Yes, daddy, please please, wanna cum for you.

Mountain chuckles darkly. Oh, I bet our Aether loves that, doesn’t he?

#no beta we die like men #we all know rain has a daddy kink okay #i dont but he does #i had to okay #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #fanfic #ficlet #anon #ask #the band ghost

[im-657-mv]

number one fan

yandere fanboy jung wooyoung

word count: 1695

It was Saturday night, and Wooyoung was mindlessly scrolling through twitter when all of a sudden, you. It was a mindless tweet concerning your newest comeback.

"OMG Y/n (or nickname) looks so good in this comeback please step on me!!!" Usually, when things like that popped up on his feed he would just scroll past it without a single thought. But attached to the tweet was a video. A fancam… of you. And to say the least, the dance was a little… provocative. Sensual.

Wooyoung doesn't recall how many times he watched that exact fancam, but he knows that after that things weren't ever the same. That night he searched and scoured every source of media he had downloaded. Youtube, twitter, google, etc. If you had a favorite show, he found out about. Books, clothes, height, weight, and even more was all discovered by Wooyoung. It felt right. Your group, the concept, and even more so you.

Jung Wooyoung was your biggest fan. Almost everyone knew it. He posted every clip he could find of you, bought every album, every product you had used or mentioned, and he even got into dancing too. He wasn't very good at first but he practiced day and night in the hopes of one day impressing you. His one and only idol. For you, he'd do anything. He'd go anywhere. And he did.

This was your first world concert, and you bet your ass he pulled out multiple devices trying to get front-row seats.

So there he was, standing next to the barricade cheering and screaming your name as loud as he could.

He dressed in his sexiest clothing, did his makeup, his hair, all for you. And it was all worth it when he finally saw you. Your beauty was blinding, and he was frozen. Stuck to floor as his eyes looked at every strand of hair and every flawless flaw he could find adorned on you. You were perfect.

Wooyoung screamed your name as loud as he could muster and you noticed! You looked at him! Your eyes showed him that affection that he knew know one else deserved. You loved him just as he loved you!

Throughout the night he continued to scream various "i love you!"" and "Y/n!" until his voice grew horse. Even then he stilled admired your figure and still whispered how much he loved you to himself.

After the concert unfortunatly ended, it was now time for the meet and greet. In all honesty, he could care less about the other members. It was you he wanted. You, you, you.

And so there he was standing in a god awful, but worthwhile, line filled with stupid squealing girls all excited to meet their idol. But Wooyoung was different. First of all, he was the only guy there. And second, he knew that you and him… were destined. I mean the way you looked at him as he chanted your name he knew from that moment and even before then you loved him too.

These people around him could not compare to what he is. To what he can provide for you. He's seen all the interviews where the host tries to tug out who your ideal person was but you never said a thing. Maybe you were waiting for the perfect someone. The perfect man to love you, hold you, worship you.

And that was him.

You've been waiting for him. Just as he with you.

Lost in thought he pictured a very clear image. A house. You dressed in silk pj's asleep in your bed. Your shared bed. The sun shining on your face. Wooyoung could see it. Pictured it. All. So. Cleary. He would lean in and kiss you. A smile would bless your face subconsciously as you felt your soulmate near. Wooyoung would climb in and cuddle your form. He would feel and touch you all over. Grabbing and petting your body flushed against him.

He could be your everything. He would worship, please, and praise you to the highest extent possible. Wooyoung would obey your every command. Walk through fire if you so desired.

At night he pictured you commanding him. Obscene positions. Erotic sounds. His tongue on your body. Your hand around his neck as you called him pretty names. Wooyoung grew hot. His insides seemed to grow tingly as the images flash through his mind, as well as a sudden twitch down in his pants.

He felt dirty for thinking of these things. But how could he not? You were so seductive and desirable, especially with your new comeback. He knew this one was going to be more of a sexy and mature concept but he wasn't prepared for the downright dirty and alluring moves featured throughout the songs. It left him wanting things. Dirty things.

It was all he could think about at times. At work, in public, and especially at night. Thank god for fanfic writers and pornhu-

"Next!"

Wooyoung's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the security guard. He's next! This was it! He's going to meet you! He's going to confess everything… his love… his dreams…!

His heart was pounding harder and harder in his chest. It felt as if he was going to explode. Were you feeling the same? You had to be…

Wooyoung walked up to the first member of your group and did some casual talking. But it was you he was waiting for. The closer he got the harder he found it to breathe.

He was aching. His heart, his chest, his insides…

Two more members…

This is the moment he was going to tell everyone. The moment he met the love of his life…

One more damn member.

His mind was elsewhere. On you. Wooyoung could feel your presence. Your aura. It was suffocating. Intoxicating.

Time was up. Wooyoung got up and time seemed to move slowly. He sat down in front of you and everything went haywire.

Your smile, your eyes, your face…

"I love your outfit!" You said with a smile and a glimmer in your eyes. Wooyoung was rendered speechless just staring at you. He was going over every single detail he could find. And your hands… he was struggling to even breathe. Your hands looked so dainty, so vulgar…

"Are you okay?" You discreetly asked with a concerned expression on your face.

"Yes, sorry-"

"Don't be! What's your name?" You giggled as you took his hands within your own. The tingles in his stomach returned stronger and more intensly than before.

"W-Wooyoung…" He managed to whisper without moaning or sounding lewd. You smiled even wider as you looked him directly in his eyes. Wooyoung smiled and felt his face blush.

"That's a very pretty name, Wooyoung-"

"I love you."

"Thank you, Wo-"

"You’re my every thought. My every dream. My every fantasy. All I want is to hear your breath as I fall asleep. As I hold you and love you. I want to feel your warmth next to me, forever. Even as I die I want to die entrapped in your arms. I’d give you everything I have, anything I could have, any possibility for more, for something other than you. I’d give it all up. Please love me! I NEED YOU. I need you beside me, talking to me, smiling at me, keeping me sane… I can't imagine a world without you! I love you! I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH Y/N!"

By this point, Wooyoung was practically on top of the table with a deathly grip on your hands. His eyes were wide and his face contorted. Love? Desire? It was scaring you. Not just you but everyone else in the room. It was all silent except for the endless rambling of his "love".

You started to feel scared as he moved closer and closer. His hands slithered up to your shoulders, feeling your pulsating heartbeat that seemed to be inclining more and more with every word he dared preached.

"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love I-" He spewed out as his hands reached up further gripping your face.

"Y/n Y/n Y/n Y/n…" He whispered as he leaned in closer to your lips, his eyes shining in a dangerous light.

You tried to braced yourself but he was ripped away from you.

"NO NO NO NO-"

"GET HIM OFF!" The guard shouted as the other tried to pry him off of you like a leech. But Wooyoung was still holding on, tears spilling from his face, nails rooted and digging into your now red bleeding forearm.

"Y/N I LOVE YOU!" He screamed as his nails dragged against your skin as the guard pulled him off you. With the force, you fell back crying and hyperventilating. But the shouting never stopped His screeches of "Don't let them take me" and "I love you" only grew angrier and desperate. He sounded insane.

You closed your eyes and felt a pair of arms around you, holding you tightly…

"I won't let them take you from me-" Wooyoung whispered into your messy hair.

"GET HIM OFF OF ME!" And within half a second he was again yanked away from you thrashing, kicking, yelling.

"Y/N I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"

Those were the last words from him as multiple guards held onto his legs and arms deciding to carry him out and away from the premise. Away from you.

You watched as he was taken away, his eyes never leaving yours once. Even after a few minutes you still heard his cries and wails of your name. It was haunting. Scary. Frightening. You half expected the fanboy to come running back somehow escaping the five guards.

Your other members gathered around you on the floor embracing you and hushing your silent cries, while your manager calmed the fans down explaining that the fan meeting was now most definitely over.

You wanted to throw up. You can still hear him. Whether it was real or not it terrified you.

Wooyoung. The sick fanboy. The obsessed fan.

But it was all over. It was over now.

#yandere ateez #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x reamale reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere wooyoung #yandere wooyoung x reader #yandere wooyoung x male reader #yandere wooyoung x female reader

[petersbaby]

Stepbro!eddie installment #5

*disclaimer that you’re 18*

Random short chapter

Warnings: oral (m receiving)

-

“I’m gonna go downstairs and get something to eat.” He tells you as he gets up from the chair in your room where he’d been sitting for an hour talking to you because you were bored.

“Ooh, bring me ice cream!”

“What’s the magic word?”

“The magic word is I’ve been letting you bother me since you got home so i deserve it.”

He rolls his eyes.

In a couple minutes, he returns to your room with 2 ice cream cones, one chocolate and one vanilla.

“Hey, you stole my snack idea.” You say, taking the white one from his hand.

“What can I say, it was a good suggestion.” He plops back down in the office chair near you desk.

He continues to talk to you about all of his fantasy game stuff that you pretend to understand and care about.

“Can you like, not do that?” He stops and asks abruptly.

“Do what??” You ask, incredulously.

“You know what you’re doing. Eat the ice cream like a normal person.”

You continue as you were, not paying any mind to his comment.

He can’t stop staring at you, the way you’re licking it up with your tongue, running it up and down collecting the white sugary substance. He has a boner now, almost impossible to conceal.

You see it immediately when you take your gaze off of the notebook you were writing in.

“Seriously? You’re so gross.” You scoff.

He started to stand up and leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Uhh, my room? Gotta get rid of this”, he says, motioning to the hard on in his pants.

“Sit back down.”

He’s never admit it, but he loved when you bosses him around, so he does. Looking at you with soft eyes, he asks “you’re killing me, you know?”

You get off of your bed to approach where he’s sitting and toss the remaining sugary cone in your trash can on the way. You sit in the floor in front of him, resting on your knees.

“Let me guess, you wish it was you instead? Got carried away with perverted thoughts?” You tease.

He just nods, unsure if you’re just fucking with him or not. He realizes you’re definitely not when your hand snakes up his this to grab at his hard bulge. “Hmm?”

“Fuck.” He slightly throws his head back. “Yes.”You start to work on his belt, and you notice his chest moving up and down as his breathing became heavier, and you tug on the waist of his pants to signal for him to take them off.

You touch it gently at first, just admiring, then once you feel his cock twitching in your hand, you realize you were in your own little world for a minute there.

At this, you collect your spit and let in drop into your hand before taking his dick this time with a firmer grip.

You do this for a minute, before sliding your hand down to the base and leave it there as you take the tip into your mouth without warning him.

His hips spasm against his will, pushing his dick further into your mouth. He can’t stop muttering obscenities under his breath. “Holy shit, holy fuck. Oh my god.”

You reach up with your other hand, slipping it beneath his shirt. You lightly scratch the way up and down his abdomen, feeling his faint but still very there muscles while you continue to take him further and further.

Soon, the tip hits the very back of your throat. You pull off, taking a second to breathe but continue to make him feel good.

You licked up and down his entire length a few times, much like you had done with the ice cream.

He groans, unable to form any thoughts. You go so low that you end up at his balls, holding them and massaging them in your hands before taking them into your mouth one at a time and sucking lightly.

“Shit, princess, who taught you that?” He is absolutely amazed.

“You did. Remember, you told me how good it feels and taught me how?”

“Oh. Well fuck, I’m a good teacher then.”

You smile and return to his shaft, where you deepthroated him and his hips bucked without meaning to. You gag slightly, but only slightly.

“I can’t- I can’t take much more, I need to cum”

You couldn’t speak because your mouth was very full, so you tap on his thigh as if to say “yes, it’s okay”.

“Fuck.”

You don’t even get a chance to taste it, as it all shoots straight down your throat. You pulled your mouth off of him, not realizing he was still cumming.

So you open your mouth wide, tongue out for him to spend the rest on it.

You swallow the extra bit, and back up to wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It was covered in saliva. You stand back up, knees sore and legs starting to fall asleep, and returned to where you were before on your bed.

He’s still over there with his dick out, trying to catch his breath. It was kind of funny, so you giggled at the sight which alerted him to pull his pants back up.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #tw stepcest #stepbro!eddie

[muiitoloko]

Can we have a part two of "My, Yours"?

Title: Advantage.

Summary: Arthur finally gets what he always dreamed of and Guinevere gains some advantages.

Pairing: Harry Hart (Kingsman) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Obscenity.

Author's Notes: I missed writing about Harry Hart.

First part here

As Harry drove you back to his car, the anticipation in the air was palpable, your heart racing with excitement at the thought of what was to come. The date had been magical, filled with laughter, good food, and meaningful conversation, and you couldn't wait to continue the evening with Harry by your side.

As you settled into the plush leather seats of the BMW, Harry glanced over at you with a smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, Guinevere," he began, his voice low and husky with desire. "I have a proposition for you."

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you waited for him to continue. "Oh? And what might that be, Arthur?" you asked teasingly, your heart pounding in your chest at the possibilities.

Harry's smile widened at your playful tone, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before he spoke. "Well, my dear Guinevere," he said smoothly, his voice laced with charm. "I could take you back to your house and end our evening here, or... I could take you to a fancy fucking hotel with a huge hot tub that I've already prepared for us and continue our date there. What do you say?"

Your heart leaped with excitement at the thought of continuing the evening with Harry in a luxurious hotel, the promise of passion and romance beckoning you like a siren's call. "Oh, Harry," you breathed, your voice filled with anticipation. "I would love nothing more than to continue our date at the hotel."

Harry's smile widened into a grin, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he shifted gears and started driving towards the hotel. "Excellent choice, my Guinevere," he replied warmly, his voice filled with satisfaction. "I promise you won't regret it."

As the car sped through the streets of London, your excitement grew with each passing moment, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you neared the hotel. When you finally arrived, Harry helped you out of the car with a gallant flourish, his hand warm and reassuring in yours as he led you inside.

The hotel lobby was opulent and grand, with marble floors and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Harry guided you to the reception desk with a confident stride, his charm and charisma evident as he checked you both in with a smile.

Once you had your keys in hand, Harry led you to the elevator, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as he guided you inside. As the doors closed behind you, he pressed the button for the top floor, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"Get ready, Guinevere," he murmured softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Tonight is going to be a night you'll never forget."

Your heart raced at his words, the promise of what was to come sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. With a smile, you leaned into Harry's touch, your body buzzing with anticipation as the elevator ascended towards the top floor of the hotel.

As the elevator came to a stop, Harry reluctantly pulled away from you, his hand sliding down to interlace with yours as he led you out into the hallway. With a confident stride, he made his way to the hotel room he had rented for the evening, his heart pounding in his chest with every step.

Opening the door to the room, Harry ushered you inside with a gentle hand, his eyes shining with desire as he drank in the sight of you standing before him. "Welcome to our sanctuary, Guinevere," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Where all our dreams come true."

You smiled up at Harry, your heart swelling with love and desire as you took in the luxurious surroundings of the hotel room. "It's perfect, Harry," you whispered softly, your voice tinged with excitement. "Thank you for making this night so special."

Harry's smile widened at your words, his heart overflowing with love and adoration for you. "Anything for you, my dear Guinevere," he replied tenderly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Now, shall we make ourselves comfortable?"

With that, Harry took your hand in his and led you over to the plush king-sized bed, his eyes burning with desire as he looked down at you. "I want you, Guinevere," he murmured huskily, his voice thick with need. "More than anything in this world."

You nodded in agreement, your own desire burning bright as you reached up to cup Harry's face in your hands. "I want you too, Harry," you whispered softly, your voice filled with longing. "Take me, make me yours."

Harry's heart soared at your words, his desire reaching a fever pitch as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Lost in the heat of the moment, he pressed his body against yours, his hands roaming over your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

With practiced skill, Harry began to undress you, his movements confident and assured as he stripped away your clothes one by one. As each piece of fabric fell away, he reveled in the sight of your naked body before him, his desire burning bright as he took in every curve and contour.

Finally, when you stood before him completely bare, Harry couldn't contain his desire any longer. With a hungry gaze, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a fierce embrace as he lowered you down onto the bed.

Harry hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of your naked body before him, absolutely divine. He watched as a butterfly landed delicately on your breast, its wings fluttering against your skin, but Harry was having none of it. With a hungry gaze, he leaned down and took the butterfly's place, his lips finding your nipple with a gentle suck.

You gasped at the sensation, a shiver of pleasure coursing through your body as Harry played with your other breast, his hand working wonders as he teased and tantalized you. The feeling of his warm mouth against your skin was almost too much to bear, but you craved more, needing him closer, deeper.

But Harry moved away, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your breast as he looked into your eyes with a fierce intensity. Slowly, he began to open his pants, his gaze never leaving yours as he silently communicated his desires to you. You understood his unspoken message, the silent agreement passing between you as you nodded in response.

Harry then stopped as he took the belt off his pants, his gaze locking with yours as he hesitated for just a moment. "Guinevere," he began softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I... I don't like using condoms. But I brought some just in case... I mean, I'm clean, and I believe you are too, but..."

You nodded understandingly, cutting off his rambling with a reassuring smile. "Harry, it's okay," you assured him gently, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "I trust you. And I don't want you to use a condom either. I want to feel you completely, to be one with you in every way possible."

Harry's heart swelled with love and gratitude at your words, his eyes shining with emotion as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. "You're perfect, Guinevere," he whispered softly, his voice filled with awe. "My perfect girl."

Impatiently, you helped him take off his suit and underwear, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him fully exposed. He was big and thick, much larger than you had anticipated, and you couldn't help but wonder if you would be able to take him completely.

But as Harry's eyes met yours, all doubts melted away, replaced by a fierce determination to please him in every way possible. With a confident smile, you reached out to touch him, your fingers trailing down his length with a gentle touch.

Harry let out a low growl of desire at your touch, his arousal evident in the way he hardened beneath your fingertips. "Guinevere," he murmured huskily, his voice thick with need. "I want you. Now."

With a nod, you shifted on the bed, positioning yourself so that you were ready to receive him. As Harry positioned himself between your legs, a surge of anticipation washed over you, your heart pounding in your chest as you eagerly awaited his touch. But instead of moving to enter you like you expected, Harry surprised you by grabbing your legs and holding them wider for him, his intent clear.

You gasped in surprise, a whimper escaping your lips as you realized what Harry intended to do. "No, Arthur," you whimpered softly, your voice tinged with desperation. "I want you inside me... please..."

But Harry's expression remained firm, his eyes locking with yours as he confidently explained his intentions. "Guinevere," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Not all women are able to take me completely. It's rare, in fact, to find someone who can take me without feeling pain."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he continued. "I don't want you to feel any pain, my dear," he whispered softly, his voice tinged with concern. "So I have to make sure that you're perfectly prepared for me, wet enough to receive me without discomfort."

With that, Harry lowered his head between your legs, his tongue flicking out to tease your sensitive flesh with gentle strokes. You gasped at the sensation, a shiver of pleasure coursing through your body as he worked wonders with his skilled tongue.

You squirmed beneath Harry's ministrations, unable to contain the moans of pleasure that escaped your lips as he worked wonders with his skilled tongue. Gripping the sheets tightly in your hands, you arched your back, offering yourself completely to his touch.

"Fuck, Harry," you gasped breathlessly, your voice filled with need and desire. "You're so good at this... a real pussy eater..."

Harry's only response was a low growl of desire, his mouth working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. He seemed completely focused on pleasuring you, his own desires taking a backseat as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh.

In that moment, a fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if Harry had trained extensively for this, honing his skills as a lover just as he had as a field agent in Kingsman. You remembered hearing rumors of his prowess in the bedroom, of how he had seduced countless targets with his charm and charisma.

But even as you pondered his past exploits, you couldn't deny the desperation in Harry's actions, the way he seemed to be fucking you like a starving man, desperate to ensure your pleasure above all else. It was as if he needed to make sure you were enjoying every moment of it, as if his own satisfaction depended on yours.

And he was good at giving pleasure, so good...

Lost in the heat of the moment, you let out a guttural moan of pleasure, your body trembling with ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of Harry's touch. With each flick of his tongue, each caress of his lips, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you.

And then, just as you felt yourself reaching the brink, Harry shifted his focus, his mouth closing around your clit with a tantalizing suction. You cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of sensation crashed over you in a dizzying torrent.

With a final flick of his tongue, Harry brought you to the peak of ecstasy, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave as you cried out his name in a voice thick with desire. As you came undone in his arms, Harry held you close, his touch gentle and reassuring as he guided you through the throes of pleasure.

As you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking, Harry pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, his touch filled with warmth and affection. "You were incredible, Guinevere," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with awe. "Absolutely incredible."

You smiled up at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the man who had brought you so much pleasure. "You're the one who did all the hard work, sir," you chimed with a mischievous smile, eliciting a chuckle from him as he let out a laugh through his nose.

Harry then stood up, positioning himself between your legs, you watched with anticipation as he teased you with the tip of his cock, collecting some of your nectar to wet himself. The sight of him preparing to enter you sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, your heart pounding with anticipation.

He waited for your consent, his gaze locked with yours as he silently communicated his intentions. When you nodded in response, giving him the permission he sought, Harry smiled warmly, his eyes filled with tenderness and affection.

With slow, deliberate movements, Harry began to enter you, his cock sliding into your wetness with a tantalizing ease. You hissed slightly at the burning sensation, feeling the stretch as Harry slowly but surely separated your walls.

It was too much, he was big, and it didn't even feel like he had reached halfway, yet you already felt full to the brim with him. But despite the initial discomfort, you trusted Harry completely, knowing that he would never hurt you intentionally.

As Harry continued to push himself deeper inside you, he paused, allowing you a moment to adjust to his size. He looked into your eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain, his touch gentle and reassuring as he waited for you to give him the signal to continue.

With a shaky breath, you nodded again, a silent affirmation that you were ready for him to proceed. Encouraged by your consent, Harry began to move again, his movements slow and deliberate as he gradually filled you completely with his length.

You gasped at the sensation, feeling every inch of him stretching you to your limits as he buried himself deep inside you. It was a combination of pleasure and pain, the burning sensation of his entry giving way to a wave of ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

Harry groaned softly at the sensation, his own desire reaching dizzying heights as he felt your tightness enveloping him completely. With each thrust, he delved deeper and deeper into your wetness, his movements growing faster and more intense with each passing moment.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you clung to Harry with a fierce desperation, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. "More, Harry," you gasped breathlessly, your voice thick with desire. "I want all of you... fill me completely..."

With a primal growl of desire, Harry gave himself over to the pleasure, his movements becoming more frenzied and intense as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. With each thrust, he drove himself deeper and deeper into your eager flesh, his cock hitting all the right spots with expert precision.

You cried out in ecstasy, your body writhing beneath him as waves of pleasure crashed over you in delicious waves. It was a whirlwind of sensation, the burning heat of his cock driving you to new heights of pleasure as you surrendered yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And then, just as you felt yourself reaching the brink of release, Harry shifted his focus, his hand finding its way between your bodies to tease your clit with expert strokes. You cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of sensation washed over you in a dizzying torrent.

With a final thrust, Harry brought you to the peak of ecstasy, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave as you cried out his name in a voice thick with desire. As you came undone in his arms, Harry held you close, his touch gentle and reassuring as he guided you through the throes of pleasure.

He then chased his own orgasm, his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation coursing through his body. With each thrust, he felt himself drawing closer and closer to the edge, the promise of release beckoning him like a siren's call.

"Guinevere," he gasped breathlessly, his voice thick with desire. "My Guinevere..."

He was lost in a haze of pleasure, his mind filled with thoughts of you and the intense connection you shared. With each thrust, he felt himself drawing closer and closer to the edge, his body trembling with anticipation as he neared his climax. He had imagined this moment countless times, replaying it over and over again in his mind as he pleasured himself in the shower, your name on his lips as he imagined you in his arms.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned softly, his voice tinged with desperation. "I've wanted this for so long... dreamed about it... fantasized about you, Guinevere..."

He regretted not taking you to his house, not having you in his bed where he could worship you completely. He longed to feel your warmth against his skin, to leave your scent lingering on his sheets as a reminder of the passion you had shared.

But even as he lamented his missed opportunity, he knew that this moment, here with you in this luxurious hotel room, was more perfect than anything he could have imagined. He was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, his body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being one with you in every way possible.

As Harry gazed down at you, his heart swelled with love and desire, overwhelmed by the intensity of the connection you shared. He could feel the primal urge building inside him, the need to claim you completely, to mark you as his own in the most intimate way possible.

"Guinevere," he murmured huskily, his voice thick with desire. "Where do you want me to come, my love?"

His eyes searched yours, silently pleading for your consent, your permission to release himself inside you. He longed to feel the tightness of your warmth surrounding him, to fill you with his essence and mark you as his forever...

But he would never do anything without your permission.

You arched against him, receiving his thrusts, clinging to his back. "Inside me, Harry," you breathed softly, your voice filled with longing. "I want you to fill me completely, to mark me as yours in every way possible."

Harry's heart soared at your words, his desire reaching a fever pitch as he felt the weight of your consent wash over him like a tidal wave.

His perfect girl.

With a primal growl of desire, he surrendered himself completely to the pleasure, driving himself deep inside you as he unleashed his passion.

As he reached the peak of ecstasy, Harry closed his eyes and threw his head back, lost in the overwhelming sensation of release. With a guttural groan, he gave himself over to the pleasure, his body trembling with the intensity of his climax as he released himself inside you, filling you with his seed.

You cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of sensation washed over you in a dizzying torrent. It was a moment of pure bliss, the culmination of your desire for each other as you surrendered yourselves completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Harry collapsed beside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. In that moment, you knew that you were truly his, and he was yours, bound together in a love that would last a lifetime.

As Harry traced patterns down your spine, you couldn't help but smile at the sensation, reveling in the warmth of his touch. "Did you have fun, Guinevere?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nodded in response, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you snuggled closer to him. "I did, Harry," you replied warmly, your voice tinged with satisfaction. "It was amazing." The two of you were silent then, just clinging to each other for a few moments.

But then, to your surprise, you felt Harry's arousal stirring once again, his body pressing against yours with renewed vigor. "Arthur, where's your refractory period?" you teased playfully, unable to hide your astonishment.

Harry followed your gaze, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized his body's quick response. "I... I'm sorry, Guinevere," he stammered shyly, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "This has never happened to me before."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his adorable response, finding his innocence endearing. "It's okay, Harry," you reassured him gently, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'm not complaining, just surprised."

Harry laughed lightly at your response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer to you. "Well, be careful," he warned playfully. "I might not let you leave this room anytime soon."

You grinned up at him, the prospect of spending more time with Harry filling you with excitement. "I wouldn't mind that at all," you replied teasingly, your voice filled with anticipation. "In fact, I think we could make good use of that hot tub you mentioned earlier."

Harry's eyes lit up at the suggestion, his grin widening into a mischievous smirk. "Oh, I like the way you think, Guinevere," he murmured huskily, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to baptize every inch of this hotel room with our love."

As Harry got up, a rush of excitement coursed through him at the thought of sharing the hot tub with you. He moved with purpose, his anticipation growing with each step as he made his way to the bathroom to prepare the tub.

Meanwhile, you nestled comfortably under the covers, watching Harry with a smile as he went about his task. His eagerness was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of joining him in the hot tub.

But as Harry filled the tub with warm water and added a generous amount of bubbles, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of possessiveness that gnawed at him. He doesn't know why he suddenly thought of it, but the idea of ​​you with someone else crept into his mind and now he couldn't dismiss it.

Thankfully, you hadn't acted as a field agent, which meant you hadn't been with other men in that capacity. But still, the idea of you being with someone else, even in the past, unsettled him deeply. He knew it was selfish of him to feel this way, but he couldn't help it.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice you slipping out of bed and making your way to the bathroom until you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "Are you ready for our hot tub adventure, Harry?" you asked playfully, your voice filled with excitement.

Harry turned to face you, his heart swelling with love at the sight of you standing before him, wrapped in nothing but the covers. "More than ready, my dear Guinevere," he replied warmly, his voice tinged with affection. "But first, there's something I need to tell you."

You looked at him curiously, a furrow forming on your brow as you waited for him to continue. "What is it, Harry?" you asked gently, your concern evident in your voice.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I... I know this might sound selfish, but..." he began hesitantly, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You reached out to touch his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring as you encouraged him to speak his mind. "It's okay, Harry," you reassured him softly. "You can tell me anything."

Harry met your gaze, his eyes shining with vulnerability as he spoke. "I... I don't like the thought of you being with other men," he admitted quietly, his voice filled with honesty. "It makes me feel... possessive, I guess. I know it's not fair to you, and I'm sorry for feeling this way."

You listened to his words with understanding, your heart swelling with love and affection for the man standing before you. "It's okay, Harry," you replied gently, your voice filled with warmth. "I understand how you feel, and I appreciate you being honest with me. But you have nothing to worry about. You're the only one I want, now and forever."

Harry's eyes softened at your words, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the woman who had captured his heart so completely. "Thank you, Guinevere," he whispered softly, his voice tinged with emotion. "You truly are my everything."

With that, Harry pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

As you slipped into the warm, bubbling water of the hot tub, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips, your body relaxing instantly at the soothing sensation. Harry watched you with a smile, his eyes filled with adoration as he joined you in the tub, settling in beside you with a contented sigh.

The atmosphere was light and playful as you splashed around in the water, teasing each other with playful touches and flirtatious glances. Harry couldn't help but admire your enthusiasm, your laughter echoing through the room as you enjoyed each other's company.

But as the moments passed, the playful atmosphere began to shift, the air thick with anticipation as desire simmered just beneath the surface. Harry's gaze grew more intense, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you move through the water with a sensual grace that made his heart race with longing.

Sensing the change in Harry's demeanor, you met his gaze with a knowing smile, your own desire mirroring his as you leaned in closer to him. With a sultry glint in your eye, you trailed your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch as you stoked the flames of his desire.

Harry groaned softly at the sensation, his arousal evident in the way his body responded to your touch. Unable to resist any longer, he pulled you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless with desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you straddled Harry's lap, the water lapping at your skin as you ground your hips against his with a fierce determination. Harry's hands roamed over your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

With a primal growl of desire, Harry guided you down onto his cock, sinking deep inside you with a delicious friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cried out in ecstasy, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rode him with abandon, your bodies moving together in a passionate rhythm that left you both gasping for air.

Harry's mouth found its way to your breasts, his lips attaching to your sensitive flesh with a hungry desperation as he lavished attention on you with a fervor that bordered on obsession. You arched your back, offering yourself completely to his touch as he sucked and nibbled at your skin, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Lost in the ecstasy of the moment, you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the connection you shared with Harry. With each thrust, each kiss, you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony as you chased the ultimate release.

And as the night wore on, you and Harry indulged in your passion, exploring every inch of the luxurious hotel room in a frenzy of desire. You moved from the bed to the couch, the nightstand, and even the bathroom sink, each surface becoming a playground for your insatiable lust.

With each new location, the intensity of your lovemaking grew, your bodies moving together with a primal urgency that left you both breathless with desire. You lost track of time as you surrendered yourselves completely to the pleasure, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of being one with each other.

On the bed again, you tangled yourselves in the sheets, your bodies entwined in a passionate embrace as you chased the ultimate release. Harry's hands roamed over your skin with a hunger that bordered on desperation, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

But even as the night wore on, your desire showed no signs of waning. You found yourselves pressed against the wall, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to the heat of your passion as you surrendered yourselves completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And when the floor beckoned to you with its promise of forbidden pleasure, you didn't hesitate to indulge, sinking to your knees before Harry as you took him into your mouth with a fervor that left him gasping for air. It was a moment of pure bliss, the intensity of your desire driving you to new heights of pleasure as you surrendered yourselves completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

As the night wore on, exhaustion finally caught up with you both, and you found yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, drifting off into a blissful slumber. The next morning, you awoke to the gentle sound of birds chirping outside the window, the warm rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains as you stirred from your sleep.

Harry pulled you closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he murmured softly, "Good morning, my love."

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love and affection as you nestled closer to him. "Good morning, Arthur," you replied warmly, your voice filled with contentment.

But before you could fully wake up and start your day, Harry's hands began to roam over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both. With a mischievous grin, he whispered huskily in your ear, "How about one last round in the shower before we head back to work?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his suggestion, the thought of making love to him one last time before facing the day filling you with excitement. "Sounds perfect to me, Harry," you replied playfully, your voice tinged with anticipation.

With a grin, Harry led you to the bathroom, where the warm water cascaded over your bodies, washing away the remnants of sleep as you surrendered yourselves completely to the pleasure of each other's touch.

As the steam filled the room, you and Harry lost yourselves in the heat of the moment, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony as you chased the ultimate release. It was a moment of pure bliss, the intensity of your desire driving you to new heights of pleasure as you surrendered yourselves completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And when you finally emerged from the shower, thoroughly sated and thoroughly late for work, you couldn't help but laugh at the thought of facing the day together. "I can't believe we're going to be late," you exclaimed, your voice filled with amusement.

But Harry just grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he wrapped his arms around you. "Don't worry, my dear," he reassured you teasingly. "Fucking the boss has its advantages, remember? Being late for work is just one of them."

You laughed at his comment, unable to resist the playful banter as you teased him back. "Oh, really? And what other advantages do I have for fucking the boss of Kingsman?" you questioned with a smirk.

Harry's grin widened into a smirk as he leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "Well, let me show you..."

#harry hart #kingsman secret service #harry hart x reader #kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #colin firth

[hold-him-down]

Leo Tells a Story

TW: references to whipping, references to institutionalized slavery

Notes: somewhere around the 2 year mark

✥ ✥ ✥ 

“I don’t think I’m getting out of here before midnight,” Luke grumbles from the other end of the line. Rob Bennett can practically hear the frown lines deepening as he pictures his guilt-laden younger brother considering all the possible ways to excuse himself from the late session on the senate floor.

There’s unrest, though. Last week, a new bill had been introduced allowing for broader use of corporal punishment on the private level, and when the public got ahold of it, protests immediately began. Luke had been held in emergency sessions almost every day since, but seldom had they taken him past sunset. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks now. Rob nods, although Luke won’t see it.

“You want me to stop by your place?” he asks, pizza in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other. He lobs it into Eliza’s bedroom, empty now for the next week. “You know he’s probably up to his ears in Moby Dick or something equally enthralling.” 

And he thinks it’s probably true, but still, lately his visits to Luke’s house have been a good opportunity to build something good in the shit storm that is brewing.

✥ ✥ ✥ 

Rob’s first thought when he walks into his brother’s townhouse and finds Leo laying on the floor, an obscenely fat book resting open on his chest, his eyes closed but his fingers fisted: Leo is drunk?

Rob’s second thought, immediately after: That doesn’t sound like the Leo he has come to know and love.

“Hi,” Leo says (mumbles?) then, but he doesn’t move. And then, he adds, “I don’t feel good,” and a few pieces fall into place.

With a smile of equal parts fondness and sympathy, Rob drops to a kneel beside him, plucking the book off his chest and dog-earing the page before setting it to the side. Leo squints up at him, his eyes just slightly unfocused, and rolls over with a groan. He pushes himself up onto the sofa, Rob kind-of-sort-of shadowing the movements while trying not to be too obvious.

“Did you at least take the good drugs?” Rob says, hand hovering just over Leo’s shoulder blades. He can never quite pinpoint what the right move here is, but he’s pretty sure at this point that hovering is exactly what his brother would do, so he rolls with it.

Leo folds himself in half, his head between his knees, the curve of his spine visible through his shirt. Rob nudges him, offering a sympathetic smile as Leo’s eyes meet his. “Leo?”

“I don’t know,” Leo says. “Aspirin?” he continues. His arm curls under his knees and he draws his body in tighter. And then, as if on cue, he adds, “Luke said I could. I thought it would help.”

Rob picks the discarded bill bottle from the coffee table, rotating it in his hands. “Aspirin fucks with you?” 

Leo nods, a miserable sound coming from him, but he rights himself then, staring at the bottle in Rob’s hand. “Only when I chase it with tequila.”

For a moment, Rob freezes, gauging the likelihood that Leo is fucking with him. Uncertainty colors his generally pretty casual demeanor. Would he be shocked if Leo finally said fuck it and tapped into his probably-moronic twenty-five-year-old instincts to dull the ache of what he suspected was near constant discomfort? Yes, he decides. He would be. Still–

“Leo,” Rob says, uncapping Leo’s bottle of water and tilting it toward him. He pauses. “I don’t say this to freak you out, but are you fucking with me right now?”

Leo laughs out a breath but nods into his knees, then stretches his back and rights himself, planting his feet on the floor. He takes the water and clears his throat, wincing as he does. “Sorry,” Leo says. And then, he adds, “Yes. Most drugs mess with me.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of medical sense,” Rob says as he sits, setting the bottle back down. “Was it always that way?”

Leo shakes his head. “It got worse after the… – training– started. I don’t know, they made me take a lot. Sometimes I think they were trying to make me sick. Sometimes they would bet on how sick I would get.” He sucks in a deep breath and Rob nods, trying to keep the open fury from registering on his face. “I think it started then. Some Pavlovian thing.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he replies distantly. They’re silent as the news begins a broadcast of the Senate meeting. There’s no sound, but Luke’s speaking… emphatically, with a banner of updates running beneath him.

“Luke said your back’s been giving you trouble?” Rob asks minutes later, eying the way Leo holds himself now.

“My neck,” Leo corrects. “Usually it’s okay, I don’t… I must have just slept wrong.”

“You’re too young to have neck pains from sleeping wrong. Luke making you sleep on the floor again?” he asks with a smile. Leo’s eyes are still on the TV, his expression devoid of any real emotion, but there’s something there. Rob gives him a moment before he says, gentler now, “Can I take a look?”

Leo, for his part, mostly looks tired. “It just hurts sometimes,” he says, bowing his head. He puts his hands over his ears, locking his fingers around his head, and Rob recognizes the gesture for what it is: bracing himself, holding himself still, doing what he needs to do.

Rob is light in his touch, asking Leo to move when he needs to, pinpointing the pressure points. Leo’s jumpy, because Leo’s always jumpy, but there’s also an alarming amount of tension along the muscles.

Maybe he did sleep wrong. Maybe he pulled something. Maybe he carries a lot of tension generally, and it wears him down.

But for Leo Evans to willfully open that pill bottle–

“How often does it hurt?” Rob asks, guiding Leo’s chin up and gently pressing along his spine.

Leo swallows. “Not often,” he replies. “Not usually.”

As Rob releases him, Leo adds, “It’s not a big deal,” and then, he amends: “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay,” Rob says lightly. “It can be a small ticket item. But–” he takes a breath “–if I only have half the story, I will feel… very sad.”

Leo lifts his head, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll feel... sad?” Leo repeats, with just a hint of, maybe teasing, behind his tone? 

“Very,” Rob says, holding his eye contact for a second longer than he needed to. Sometimes, in these moments, Rob is reminded that Leo can hold his own. That he’s not this broken person everyone thinks he is. That he doesn’t need to be handled with kid gloves the way his parents handle him, that he doesn’t need the protection Luke constantly seeks to provide. 

And then his mouth works ahead of his brain and he says, “Will you tell me why your neck hurts, as seldom as it may?” And if he planned out his words, he might phrase it as less of a demand, but it’s there, and it lingers. “I promise it’ll stay between us, if that’s what you want.”

Leo whistles out a sharp breath, and his eyes meet Rob’s, and his expression shifts. He glances at the TV, where Luke continues to absolutely dominate the senate floor, and turns it off.

“I don’t think I’m really supposed to talk about it,” he says, after a prolonged pause. 

Rob goes to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch, offering one to Leo. Unsurprisingly, he shakes his head.

When Rob returns, he takes a slow drink, then sets it to the side. 

Every muscle in Leo’s body is tense, his fight or flight response laid out in front of them, and just as Rob considers the exact words he needs to speak to let him off the hook, Leo’s hands ball into fists at his side and he takes a deep breath. 

Leo tells Rob the story then, unexpected in its own right, about the day– one of the days, maybe– that he was tortured just for the sake of being tortured. Complete with a fucking… presentation, and doctors, and video cameras. He recounts it with a detached precision that rattles Rob, the feeling of the whip slicing into his muscles, the feeling of fingers pressing into wounds, the sleepless nights that followed and the uncertainty of when it would happen again. 

When he finishes, Rob’s holding his cup so tightly his fingers are white. He takes a breath, forcibly loosening his muscles, and swallows. He waits until he’s sure he can speak calmly to speak at all, so keenly aware that Leo’s waiting, and that Leo doesn’t do well with Big Feelings, although nothing in his immediate expression or posture gives it away. 

Leo shrugs then, not for the first time that evening. 

“So that’s why it hurts sometimes,” he says softly, his eyes glued to Rob’s fingers, his grip on that glass a preview of what will one day be his grip on the neck of whoever was in charge of that fucking site. 

He takes a breath, the new knowledge settling into him, working its way through his nervous system and penetrating the core of who he is. He thinks of all the ways he’ll get the site shut down, of all the ways he’ll get the whole fucking system shut down; he thinks of what Luke will say when he tells him, and in almost the same instant that he remembers, Leo says-

“You can’t tell him.” 

And Rob swallows, setting his empty glass on a magazine on the table. Leo’s waiting for him to speak, but he doesn’t know where to begin. The medical concerns with an experimental torture device slicing into Leo’s neck and causing what is probably irreparable damage. The mental scars that he’s always known run so deep in this boy, but maybe he still doesn’t fucking get how deep. The absolute blind rage that he can’t contain enough to even push out the simplest of words.

“It’s illegal,” is all Rob can come up with, what could be full minutes later. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo replies. “It doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not; I don’t think anyone cares about the legality of anything happening in those sites.” Leo’s expression is almost completely devoid of emotion, a perfect mask trained into him by some asshole in some white room somewhere, but Rob knows there’s turmoil behind them. 

“It matters, Leo. It all fucking matters. You matter. Your suffering matters. Your personhood fucking–” He doesn’t clock the aggression in his own tone, the volume of his voice, the fury behind his eyes, until he looks at Leo. He swallows back his anger. He’ll find the video. He’ll find the video, or Luke will, and things will change. They have to.

He can hear the key turning in the lock, he sees Leo’s eye land on the door behind him, and he swallows back whatever pieces of the rage that he can in time for his brother to step into the living room. 

taglist: @whump-cravings, @afabulousmrtake, @crystalquartzwhump, @maracujatangerine, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @distinctlywhumpthing, @thecyrulik, @highwaywhump, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @finder-of-rings, @dont-touch-my-soup, @skyhawkwolf, @suspicious-whumping-egg, @also-finder-of-rings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @prodigal-zoe, @peachy-panic, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @urban-dark, @nicolepascaline, @quietly-by-myself, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-blog,  @seasaltandcopper, @angstyaches, @i-msonotcreative, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @anonintrovert, @whump-world, @squishablesunbeam, @considerablecolors, @whumpcereal, @whumperfully, 

#the fighter #references to whipping #references to institutionalized slavery #this was actually the winner of the poll so #here you have it #!!

[mlove44lh]

For a lifetime Part II - En/USA version

Part I here

Warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, angst, fluff, original character.

Words: 12.486

Summary: Lewis and Angie met in their childhood and after a short time they were already inseparable, the relationship escalated and soon they became more than friends. But life happened to both and they ended up following different paths. Nine years later they meet again. Is all that love really gone?

Notes: Some events are out of chronological order.

To read the second part, it is not necessary to have read the first, but you might not understand some things.

August 2015

I adjusted the necklace with my initial on my chest and took one last look in the mirror. The red lipstick highlighted my lips in a way that I wasn't sure if it was pretty or obscene. But I tried to push that thought away since I had already changed my lipstick 3 times in the last few minutes.

-Calm down. -I whispered to myself as I stared at my reflection. 

I was still in disbelief at everything that had happened in my life, everything had gone so well in the last few years, but I didn't think it would reach this point. Being part of the creative direction of a brand the size of Valentino is much more than I dreamed of. But here I am, in London, my new home since the last year, working with much more than I dreamed of. The work is wonderful, and even though I don't use my own designs, I help manage everything that involves the brand and the collections.

When all that happened between me and Lewis, for a moment I thought that my plan was not going to work, I was afraid of having given up the best thing in my life for a dream far from coming true. It was hard at first and to this day I think a lot about how it could have been, but I don't regret for a second the decision I made, even though it hurt for years.

I needed the maturity that time brings to be able to remember Lewis with a smile on my face, and I admit that I haven't stopped cheering for him at any moment in all this time. Seeing him win 2 world titles and go on his way to 3rd makes me the happiest and proudest person in the world. But I know that our story had an end, and it took me a while to accept that, but eventually, it happened, I was able to make peace with my decision and the end of our relationship. And today I only feel gratitude for everything we've experienced together.

I took out my phone and checked for one last time the address of the location where the cocktail presentation of the new Valentino collection would take place. As much as I've been at this job for a while, I still haven't gotten used to all the extravagance around it, cocktails like this are something I don't know if I'll ever get used to.

❀

I got out of the car and thanked the driver before closing the door, I looked at the large building and felt intimidated by its size. The marble stairs and columns of the hall only showed a little of all the majesty contained within the place. All the decorations in the party hall were in the beautiful shade of Valentino pink and I couldn't imagine anything more than such good taste.

It didn't take me long to find my coworkers near the bar, the place was full and I didn't know most of the people. There were guests, employees, and other stylists from all over the world. Valentino didn't skimp a bit on this cocktail.

-Angie! -I had left my colleagues and gone to explore the hall when I heard his voice calling me.

-Paolo, my dear! How are you? 

Paolo is the head director of Valentino, he was the one who discovered me in Paris and called me to work for his brand, and over time we ended up becoming great friends.

-Oh I'm good. Everything is perfect. -Paolo handed me his arm, which I accepted. We started to walk together through the hall. -What a wonderful dress, I wonder what talented hand signed it. 

I chuckled at his statement and patted my hand lightly on his. My dress screams Valentino.

-The best of all, of course. 

Paolo was leading me around the room and he seemed to be looking for someone. 

-Come bella, I want to introduce you to our main model of this new collection.

-I thought we would keep on with Miles, no?! 

-Oh no, I think this new collection deserves someone with more…Personality, you know? And luckily we managed to find someone that is perfect for the job.

I was looking at Paolo while walking, so when we got to that person, I didn't notice who it was until I heard his name. 

-Lewis, let me introduce you to our creative director. - He turned to us and I could see the panic in his eyes as he landed on me. I wasn't any different. No fucking way. -Angie, this is Lewis Hamilton. You must know him, great formula 1 driver, and our newest model for the new campaign.

Oh no.

No.

Please no.

The pain I was feeling in my feet because of the high heels disappeared from one second to another. Suddenly I don't feel anything anymore, the huge hall became a small room the moment I realized who was in front of me. I squeezed Paolo's arm unconsciously, I have no idea how my face is at that moment, but if my shock is showing, I'm letting everyone know how surprised I am to see him again.

I feel like I might pass out, it's like all my blood has been drained from my body, I'm freezing, trying to process everything and not end up throwing up right here in front of everyone.

Lewis looks so different. But at the same time, he looks exactly the same person I left at Stevenage nine years ago. It's almost an insult to how the passage of time has only served to make him even more attractive.

I want to run out of this room and not look back, but at the same time, I could also stay here for hours, looking at him and marking in my mind everything that changed in his body and everything that remains exactly the same. Like his eyes, those beautiful eyes that I would recognize anywhere in this world and at any moment in my life, those same eyes that cried with me, and that same lips that made me promises in vain.

I want to cry, I want to hug him and then punch him. All at once. But of course, I won't do any of those things, instead, I'll just stand here, looking at him and pretending that I'm fine and that the memories of years ago don't affect me anymore. I was very wrong to make myself believe that I could get over this man who is now standing right in front of me.

I can't stop looking at him, but from my peripheral vision I can feel Paolo's gaze beside me, burning me, I know I have to do something, but I don't know how. But then Lewis does it for me, and I see his hand move from the side of his body, and extend it in front of me, waiting for a handshake.

-Nice to meet you, Angie. 

Wait a second. What? He will pretend he doesn't know me? If I looked confused before, it's only increased now. Why would he do that? 

why the fuck is he acting like he doesn't know me??

I was static and it took a little push from Paolo to bring me back to reality. I quickly shake his hand, trying not to stay in contact with him any longer than necessary. And hoping my shaking hands would go unnoticed by him and Paolo 

-The pleasure is mine.

I don't know why I didn't deny it either, I could have said something but I didn't. I just followed his game, whatever it is. I don't want to extend this one second longer than necessary.

Lewis smiles at me, which makes my stomach churns with anxiety, that's not his smile, I know him. That smile now is like a programmed, studied, and rehearsed smile. I was there when the smiles were real and unscarred, I spent hours on end looking at that smile and laughing with it, analyzing every detail of its features when there was just enough happiness in it for me to tattoo in my mind. And there's a big difference to that smile now. I hope with all my heart that this is a consequence of his nervousness and not a change that came with these years we spent apart. It would be mean to the world for people not to have the opportunity to see the perfection of his true smile.

I don't smile back at him, if I try to curl my lips into a smile the chances are I'll get the exact opposite and start crying.

I can hear Paolo's voice in the background, but when I start to pay attention Paolo has already stopped talking and is now looking at me with a face that I can't interpret as being too angry or too embarrassed, either way, I can see it in his face how screwed I am.

-Yes. I can't wait to start working with you, I've already had the opportunity to see some pieces, and from what I believe it will be a great collection. -Lewis says looking intently at Paolo. At this point, I no longer know if the question was directed at me or Lewis.

They start talking about the brand, but I can't pay attention to anything. I took my eyes off Lewis and since then the noise in my mind seems to have gotten even bigger. I don't take long to find an excuse and get out of there.

I go to the bathroom and lock the door, the high collar of my dress manages to make me feel even more suffocated, I take one, two, twenty breaths before trying to get my thoughts in order. This is not right, he is a formula 1 driver, I work in the fashion industry, and our paths would never cross, I know that. I thought about it for a long time. I planned my steps so as not to run into his, it was supposed to be a safe field and away from Lewis. Why is this happening? Why now? Just when I was thinking less about us, imagining us less. Suffering less for us.

Us...

And now it's all gone, all the effort I've made to get him out of my mind, and he appears right in front of me, in flesh, blood, and Valentino.

I should have been part of the decision for the new model. I think about talking with Paolo that I don't like Lewis as our principal model, but I couldn't do that, and it's too late for a change like that anyway. I even think about resigning, but that is out of the question, not when it took me years to live this dream, and not because of a ghost from my past that I insisted on keeping alive.

At the end of the day, I'll just have to deal with it and live the next few weeks running from Lewis. And just thinking about it makes me feel suffocated again.

I take out my phone and check the notifications, I come across an angry Paolo in my messages.

"What’s wrong with you?" 

"Why did you treat our model that way, Angie? Are you insane?" 

"You're lucky I love you and your work is phenomenal, otherwise I swear you were out. I'm so pissed at you." 

-Shit.

God, I could scream right now, everything happening all at once. I type and delete a reply to Paolo several times, not sure what to say to him. What excuse can I make for what just happened? 

"Sorry, I don't know what just happened to me. I promise it won't happen again."

I send the message to Paolo and check the hours before locking my phone screen. Two more hours and I can go home. Two more hours, that's all, and I'll go home, throw myself under the covers, and never come out. 

I leave the bathroom and go back to where I was before my night turned into this craziness.

-Can I have a whiskey on the rocks? -I ask the bartender as soon as I lean against the bar counter. He didn't take long to serve my drink. I swallow all of the amber liquid in a few sips, the burn of the alcohol going down my throat doesn't have the immediate effect I'd like it to, I can still feel my whole body tense. I don't think even an alcoholic coma could calm me down at this moment.

The bar is emptier, most people are now on the dancefloor. I try to spot Lewis but he's nowhere to be seen, I want to make sure I'm at a safe distance from him.

After putting down my glass on the marble counter, I get off the stool and walk outside, which is even emptier. I light a cigarette and try to dissipate him from my mind. Don't blame me, 4 years in Paris makes anyone a smoker.

I try with all the tactics I've developed over the years to put him out of my thoughts. Even after all this time I still haven't found the secret formula for it.

I smell him before I hear his voice, the smell that's been imbued in my brain since the last hour when we meet again. His new fragrance is enjoyable, certainly an expensive perfume that he can now afford it without any difficulty.

-That's not a healthy habit. As I recall you hated that sort of thing. 

I turn to face him. 

-Oh, so you remember me.

He gives me a wanton half-smile that makes me mad. 

- I'm sorry, I didn't know what to say there. I don't want people to start to assume anything.

Pretentious.

-And why would people start to assume anything? -I put out my cigarette and throw it into the ashtray beside me. 

His half-smile disappears. He doesn't answer me. I wait a few seconds before realizing that that was the end of our conversation.

So I walk past him to head back into the party. 

I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist and 

by the surprise of the contact, I stop immediately to look at him. Lewis is inches away from me now, and if it weren't for the whiskey and the cigarette I would probably already exploded from the tension by now.

He's so close, too close to make me intoxicated, too close to stop me from thinking clearly. 

-Let's talk. Please. -His voice is so low that I have to think twice if he really just said that, or if it was just my imagination.

-We don't have anything to talk about, Lewis. 

I calmly let go of him and start climbing the stairs to enter the hall. 

-We meet again like this, after all this time, after everything we've had, our whole history. Don't you think it means something?

I laugh at his comment. I go down the few steps I managed to climb before being interrupted and return to the position I was before.

-It means you agreed to be a model for the brand I work for and now I'm going to have to deal with you for weeks until this is all over. That's all it means. -I went back up the stairs while holding my dress so I wouldn't end up stepping on it. How dare he say that kind of thing when I was the one suffering for him while he was with someone else this whole time? I turned myself to him one last time. -And we didn't have anything. No “history” at all, Lewis, for God's sake. We're childhood sweethearts that ended up nowhere.

I leave Lewis behind and return to the party even more nervous. It doesn't take long for the cocktail party to end and everyone starts to leave the area. I was already leaving the place when Paolo pulls me to the corner.

-Are you okay? What happened there? 

Paolo doesn't look nervous anymore, he looks at me with curiosity.

-I am. I'm sorry about that, I really don't know what happened to me. I already managed to apologize to him too. -Lie.

-Yes, I saw you talking out there. -Shit. I didn't need one more thing to worry about today -Do you guys know each other? 

-No. -I lie. - I've seen him before but we've never been introduced.

I wish like never before that Paolo had not heard our discussion, I don't know how I would explain to him everything that happened. But Paolo doesn't seem to have any doubts about my answer, and that calms me down. 

He nodded and was already walking away from me when I called him back.

-Paolo.- I didn't think I would have the audacity to ask him that. -Why didn't I participate in the meeting to decide on the new model? I should have participated, it's part of my job.

-Cause there was no meeting. He was the one who offered to be a model, and we just accepted. I didn't know that this could be a problem for you.

I freeze for a second before answering him. Why would Lewis do that? Of all the brands in the world and he offers fair sponsorship with Valentino. I can't help but think he already knew he'd find me here, and thinking about that makes my stomach churn.

-No. It's not. I was just curious.

I smile trying to hide my perplexity from Paolo. 

-Alright. See you on Monday then. 

I say goodbye to Paolo and head out of the hall. Still confused. Still unable to believe everything that just happened.

I get in the car and greet the driver. I thank heaven for the end of the night, I close my eyes and wait for the car to start moving, but instead what happens is the door next to me opens. I look at who it is and I can't believe who I find getting in the seat next to mine.

-No fucking way. -At this point, I'm not even trying to keep my composure anymore. 

-There are no more cars available and my hotel is close to your destination so they put us together. -Lewis slams the door and settles down next to me.

-No more cars available? In such a huge event like this? And you want me to believe that?

-I do. Because I'm telling the truth. I would call a taxi but we're in the middle of nowhere, it's two in the morning and I'm tired.

I'm too physically and emotionally exhausted to do anything, so I stay in my seat and hope the time passes quickly. Even before the car leaves I close my eyes and pretend I'm sleeping so I don't have to talk to him. But even with my eyes closed I can feel his gaze on me and it makes me mad with anger.

-Stop it. -I say with my eyes closed. 

-Stop with what? 

-Staring at me, stop it. 

-I just want to be able to talk to you and explain myself.

-Why? For what? -I don't want to open my eyes and have to deal with him. In that way, I can pretend this is all just a dream.

-Cause I know how much it hurts you, and it hurt me too. And I want to be able to explain myself and make you understand my side of it all. 

I opened my eyes finally facing the reality standing next to me.

-I think you're a little too late for that. -Lewis looked the most serious I had ever seen in my life, and with every word that came out of my mouth, his attention seemed redoubled. -You never came after me for anything. And after that last call, I stopped to exist in your life. And you just appeared now by an unfortunate coincidence of fate.

-Stop it, Angie. 

-Stop with what? -My voice is higher now. 

-Stop treating me like that. 

I laugh in an amused tone, even though I'm not amused at the moment.

-You treated me much worse than that. 

I could barely look at him anymore. Suddenly all those sensations from the beginning invaded me, everything that I thought was healed was shown to be even more harmed. I open the window in a frustrated attempt to breathe better inside that car.

-For someone who says we had nothing, you seem to be pretty upset. 

I glared at him when I heard those words. 

- Forget it, Lewis.

-No. Please. I want to listen to you, and I want you to listen to me. Let’s do this. But with a clear head. Let me take you to lunch tomorrow. 

-Forget about it. No. You lost your chance.

-Please. Please, that's all I ask of you. We're going to have to deal with each other for the next few weeks. Let's at least try to work it out and get out of this situation as friends. 

My laugh echoed through the car. 

-Friends?! Do you really think there's any chance of us being "friends" someday?

-Stop being defensive. -He's angry too. I can see it in his eyes. I don't know if he's angry at the situation or me. But I hope he's angry at himself.

-It was you who put me here. It was you who did this to me. 

His expression changed to concern. 

-I'm sorry.

-Listen Lewis. Here is the thing. Let's act like we really don't know each other. Let's deal with each other during these weeks and when it's finally over, we go live our lives like we were doing until today.

We get in silence for a couple of minutes, I thought the conversation was finally over, but it didn't take long for him to go back to talking.

-Just a lunch. And I promise I'll leave you alone. Just have lunch with me tomorrow so we can talk. -Lewis looks at me with a puppy face that I didn't know was capable on the face of a man in his 30s. -I'm a different person now. And so are you.

I sigh in defeat and finally give in to his request, I just want him to be quiet. 

-Okay. A lunch. And nothing more. 

-Perfect. Nothing more.

Suddenly he can't keep his smile to himself. Me on the other hand come back to close my eyes and wait for the end of the trip.

It doesn't take long for the driver to stop in front of the building where I live. I thank him and get out of the car. I hear the other door slam as well and I know that Lewis has come after me.

-This building looks great. -He says while pulling his hands in his pockets.

-It's not mine. My boyfriend lives here.

A huge lie, there is no boyfriend. After Lewis, I had only a few relationships that didn't pass from a one-night stand that didn't result in anything. The truth is that I never felt the way I was used to feel by his side. And when I learn that nobody could ever take his place in my life, I just gave up trying. But obviously, I won't admit this to him. And besides that, I wanted to see what would be his reaction to the false information.

-Oh. -He couldn't even hide it. It's ridiculous that he would even consider getting upset over something like that. We are complete strangers now. -I understood. 

I give him a forced smile. At least one point for me tonight.

-So. Anyway. At what time I can pass to pick you up tomorrow?

As soon as possible so that this ends soon.

-I don't know.

-Noon sounds good?

-Yes. Noon it's fine.

-Okay. Deal. See you tomorrow.

I saw him returning to the vehicle and watched him leaving the street. I take a deep breath, already regretting my decision.

❀

How to look stunning without seeming like you've spent hours trying? 

Not that I've spent hours trying. It's just that... Whatever.

It's past noon. I've always hated being late, but this time I confess it's kind of on purpose. There's no message on my phone because I didn't get to give him my number yesterday. We agreed it would just be a simple lunch, there's no reason for him to have any form of contact with me.

I should change this outfit, all this blue is not matching. But anyway it's ridiculous to put that much effort into it.

I grab my purse and look at myself in the mirror one last time.

 Blue will have to do.

I find Lewis leaning against his car at the entrance of the building. His casual outfit makes him even more attractive than he was yesterday. Now in the sunlight, I can see even more details, I notice the tattoos on his skin and how they only add to the fearless aura he's adopted over the last few years. As much as he looks completely changed, I still see that boy in front of me, so it's hard for me to believe in this whole new person he built.

-You look beautiful. 

-Thank you. -He didn't realize I spent too much time getting ready, did he? He's just being nice. -Sorry I'm late. 

-Don’t worry. Can we go? -Lewis opens the door of his car and waits for me to get in.

-Where are we going? Cause there's a restaurant around the corner that is amazi... 

-Actually. -He cuts me off mid-sentence, leaving me gesticulating in the air. -I already have everything planned. 

-Oh...Okay then.

I get in the car and wait for him. Allowing my ex-boyfriend who I haven't seen in 9 years take me somewhere "surprise" is as scary as it sounds. 

We've been traveling the streets of London for some time now, the silence inside this car it's loud, not embarrassing, but it's like there's an elephant in the back seat that neither of us wants to talk about it.

-You still drive a manual. -I say, cutting the silence. 

Lewis laughs before answering me. The first laugh from him I've heard in person in 9 years, and it sounds exactly the same. That's his real smile, without any mask, I'm happy to see it's still there.

-Of course. If I don't shift gears, it doesn't even feel like I'm actually driving. 

-Apparently, that hasn't changed. 

-A lot of things stay exactly the same, Angie. -He looks at me, taking his attention off the road for a few seconds. I feel myself burning in my seat and try not to make eye contact with him for those few seconds.

-You seem calmer. -Lewis waited a while to talk to me again. Maybe he was waiting for an answer. 

-I had more time to try to understand the situation. 

-So? What conclusion did you come to? 

-That the universe hates me.

Lewis's smile faded and I immediately felt bad about it. As much as he hurt me, I don't want to be mean to him. What happened was a long time ago and I know better than anyone how time can change people, I do believe he is a completely different person than the one who did that to me. Anyway, I knew what was going to happen, I have no right to get mad and take it out on Lewis, not after nine years of all that shit. 

I don't apologize to him. But I promised myself that I would try to be pleasant.

Lewis took the highway and we were moving for a while, I wasn't paying attention to the road until we passed the London exit. 

-Lewis, why are we leaving London? Where are we going?

-Calm down. You will see it soon. Another 40 minutes and we get there. But you'll figure it out before that.

-You're not going to kill me and throw me on the side of the road, are you?

Lewis laughed before answering me.

-Naah. My time is too precious to spend that way. If that were the case, I would pay someone to do the job or something. -I giggled at him and slapped his arm lightly. -Relax. I think you'll like it.

I took the freedom to turn on the radio but regretted it as soon as I did. The melody of in my place by Coldplay started to play through the vehicle. I was washed over again by memories of years ago. My laugh from seconds before was replaced by sadness, I promised myself that I wouldn't think about what could have become of us anymore, but it's impossible when he's right next to me, humming a song that we used to listen to and sing together all the time.

Calm down. It's just lunch. In a few hours, this comes to an end. 

I started to get anxious when I realized which way Lewis was going. Suddenly the highways began to feel more familiar. I was already out of breath, and when we passed the sign that indicated the arrival in the city, I was restless.

-Lewis, why did you bring me here? -I had difficulty speaking, and my voice came out in a whisper. 

-I thought it would be a good idea. Remember the old times. 

There was joy in his voice as if being back at Stevenage by my side didn't bring him all the suffering it brings me.

I look outside and try to focus on the streets of Stevenage, it's been so long since the last time. I don't come here too often cause everything in this town reminds me of Lewis and our moments together. If I want to see my parents, 

I always end up sending tickets for them to come to visit me. 

We passed my old neighborhood, then his. I don't know where exactly he's taking me, but it's already clear that he wants to go through all of "our" places before talking to me. It didn't take long before Lewis parks the car, and only then I do realize where we are.

-Is this place still up? -It's the first thing I've said since we entered the city. 

-Of course. Tony's is the best place in town. -We used to come here all the time. Lewis would pick me up at the school exit and drive me here religiously every week, sometimes more than once. -We used to come all the time, remember?

I nodded without looking at him. How could I forget? We spent our best moments here, eating cheese pizza and reading old copies of the Rolling Stones magazine that Tony kept in the back of the little diner.

Lewis gets out of the car but I stay there a little longer, trying to prepare myself for God knows what's going to happen next. I'm taken out of my thoughts with Lewis opening the passenger door, my stare that until then was fixed on the facade of the place goes to him, who is bent towards me, holding out his hand and waiting for me to get out of the car. I take his hand and I don't know how, but I manage to keep myself firmly on the ground as I get out of the vehicle.

I cut off our contact as soon as I exit the vehicle. Lewis gesticulates for me to go ahead of him, which I do. I take slow steps until I reach the diner entrance door.

I can't remember the exact moment I realized over 10 years ago that I was in love with Lewis. But I remember all the times I looked at him and got butterflies in my stomach, I remember all the times I thought "this can't be" when it came to my feelings for him. And a lot of those moments were here, after class, sitting next to him watching him talk about some weird band he was into at the time. Him bringing me here, after all this time, is such a low blow. Very low blow.

I knew accepting this lunch wouldn't be a good idea, I know I won't be strong enough to say no if Lewis decides he wants to be part of my life again in any way. Not here, not at Tony's.

I walk into the restaurant and it's like I've gone back in time, I know this place has become traditional here in Stevenage, but keeping everything exactly the same that way is bizarre. Even the colors are the same. The beige walls that were out of fashion 13 years ago are still intact.

Lewis comes right behind me and I can see how that took him by surprise too. 

-They didn't even change that stool that sticks the ass of everyone who sits on it. - He whispered close to my ear. 

The sound of my loud laughter echoed throughout the place. There was hardly anyone there, but I ended up drawing unnecessary attention thanks to Lewis's joke. But he didn't look angry, on the opposite, he started laughing with me.

We went up to the counter and saw Tony coming out of the back of the store. Tony is one of the few things here that have changed. When we used to come here, he was a middle-aged guy, too skinny, and he had a huge mustache that covered his mouth. He's much older now, with a protruding belly and gray hair, but the mustache is still there. Tony came over to us with a frown.

-Good afternoon. Are you guys ready to order? -His features immediately changed as soon as he laid his eyes on us. -My God. Angie?! 

-Hi Tony. - I feel shy about his reaction. 

-And this boy. No. It can not be. Lewis? Is that you son? 

-Yes sir. In flesh and blood.

Lewis came out from behind me and walked over to the old man, giving him a handshake.

-Oh, it's great to see you two. It seems like it was only yesterday that you came here almost every day to test my patience. So does that mean you guys are still together? How life is. When is it supposed to be...

-No Tony. - I interrupted him. If he keeps saying these things I'm going to freak out. -Actually, we met again yesterday after a long time. And for some reason, Lewis thought it would be a good idea to bring me here today.

Tony turned red, probably embarrassed by this situation. But definitely not as embarrassed as I am right now. Both Tony and Lewis stare at me without knowing what to say. 

-So. Can we order now? - I asked trying to get their attention back.

-Yes of course. -Lewis says while going back to where he was before going to the other side of the counter to greet Tony. 

-Let's see. Two large slices? What flavor?

-Cheese. Obviously. -I said smiling are the man. Lewis nodded behind me.

-Okay. Your table is free, you can go there. I'll bring the food in a minute. 

-Thanks, Tony. -We say in unison and walk to "our table", which is right in the corner of the restaurant, near the large glass window.

Anxiety comes back to me as soon as I sit down and face Lewis. Lewis sat in the back while I sat in the front seat. We decided on these places when we were 14 years old, and after all this time we're still loyal to them. It's impossible to look at Lewis now and not see that boy that I fell in love with, with the addition of braids and tattoos, but still, it's Lew.

Lewis picks up the menu on the table and starts flipping through it, he looks relaxed, the complete opposite of me right now. 

-What are you doing? -Lewis takes his gaze off the menu and directs it at me. 

-Choosing something to drink. 

-No. What are you doing? Why did you bring me here, Lewis?

My voice doesn't come out as calm as I'd like, I don't think even if I tried hard I could sound less nervous than I am. My hands are clenched so tightly together that I'm already cramping. 

-I told you why.

-No. You gave me a half-baked explanation that I didn't believe for a second. -Lewis lowers the menu and starts paying full attention to me. And I don't know if that's better or worse. -It's not like I'm an old friend that you lost contact with. We ended things, and it wasn't even in a friendly way. I'm just trying to understand what the hell you're doing.

-Maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring you here. 

His voice is lower than normal. 

-Maybe not. But here we are. 

Lewis no longer looks at me. His stare is now at my hands. I take a deep breath before asking the question.

-Lewis. - He turns his gaze back to me. -Why did you come back? 

I can feel my eyes burning, I can't let myself cry, but here in this place, and with him, I want to burst into tears.

-Because I realized I should have never left.

I look at him in disbelief, I can feel my vision beginning to blur because of the insistent tears, but I soon wipe my eyes, not letting him see for one more second the effect he is having on me.

-Here it is kids, Two large slices of cheese.

I didn't even notice Tony coming towards us. I don't look at him while he serves us. I look at Lewis, trying to digest what I'd just heard, trying not to freak out right here, and ended up walking back to London. Lewis thanks Tony and then turns his eye to me. He looks just as scared as I am, as if he's shocked by his own spoken words. I'm static, a million thoughts run through my mind, I need a few seconds to try to put everything in order and answer Lewis.

-Do you realize how mean this is to me? 

I lean back in my chair, pulling myself distant from him, unconsciously trying to feel safer.

-It's just the truth.

He also looks perplexed, his eyes sparkle but there is also a lot of sadness in the black orbs staring at me. 

-I don't want that, that truth doesn't interest me anymore, Lewis. Do you have any idea how I was? The state that you left me in after all?

The memories I try to forget come back in maximum intensity, and this time I can no longer hide the tears. Fortunately, I know that there's barely anyone around, but even if there were hundreds of people in this room, I wouldn't be able to tell.

-I never stopped thinking about you, never. I was placed in a completely new environment, with new people, with the life I had always dreamed of. And I talked about you all the time to everyone. But you told me yourself that it wasn't going to work, and I suddenly started to believe it. I started to believe it because it seemed like a completely different world from the one I lived by your side. And I wasn't sure if you would fit into this new life.

He's fussing, putting words on top of words, gesticulating as if his life depended on it. He took a few seconds but then returned to explain himself.

-And I made the wrong decision. I know, I act like an asshole. I was with someone else and I knew the pictures were going to leak. I did it because I didn't want to make the decision, so I put it in your hands, and you made it for me. And it was a ridiculous and childish attitude, I know. I see this now. And I hated myself for years because of that. But it was the only way I found at the time. -I can see the tears in his eyes and I get a little surprised after I realize that. -And again, I'm sorry about that, Angie. I apologize to you, and I apologize for us and our past. What I did wasn't right.

He stopped, he had to, his voice was getting louder, that way everyone would hear. I remain in the same position, motionless, but now with my arms crossed and my face wet with tears. It's not over, I know that now comes the other part, the resentment part, the part that's gonna kill me.

-But you didn't try it either. -Now his voice is much lower. -You were the first person to try to leave, you said it wouldn't work even before you left my room that night. You looked into my eyes and told me it wasn't going to work. And that was the image that haunted me during those months.

His hands go up from the table to his eyes, wiping away the tears that have started to fall. He looks around for a second before leaning across the table towards me.

-I'm here now and I brought you here because I want you to forgive me. I want to be able to start over with you, because I'm done torturing myself with this. And I want to resolve things with you. I want to listen to you, because I need to listen to you, I need to know how you're doing. I want to die every time I think that everything we've had has come to nothing, I don't want it to be like this. I don't want it all to be in vain.

With tears in his eyes, Lewis smiles at me before continuing.

-I think every day about how our conversations would be, and how you would tell me every little thing that happened in your day. I want to know everything about you. I feel like I'm facing a woman who was the love of my life and who is now a complete stranger, and it hurts so much. I suffered too, Angie. So please forgive me. I don't want to live with these thoughts anymore, I want to make it happen. But if you tell me no, if you don't want to forgive me, I'll understand, and I'll be able to put an end to it no matter how much I don't want to. I just need something, anything from you. I can't accept this torturing me anymore. So you can send me to hell if you want. But if you feel, even in a tiny part of you, that you can forgive me, then please forgive me.

I stare at the table and the two untouched slices of pizza are blurred because of my tears. I don't know if I can look at him. I don't know if I can formulate a sentence right now. I want to get up from here, I want to hug him and then ask for his forgiveness. But I don't do anything, I'm frozen in my place, and I only move to breathe so I can cry more.

I don't know how long we remain in silence before I started to speak. 

-I want to be able to forgive you. And I'm sorry about all of that. But what do I do with the old Angie that is screaming inside of me begging me to run from here and from you?!

I lean across the table and take the same position as Lewis.

-I went through a lot, and the beginning was so hard that I thought that I wouldn't be able to get over it. I was having the worst time of my life because of you while you were exhibiting her off in the paddock. I want to forgive you, and I believe you’ve changed. But I don't know if I would be strong enough to see it with my own eyes.

-Let me show you that I'm worthy of a second chance. Let's start over as if we just met. Just give me a few weeks like this, and if after that you decided that you don’t want to look at me anymore then we never have to talk to each other again.

I can see the suffering on his face. I can see his transformation in every speech and gesture. And all of this only manages to make me even more confused. 

-I need a minute.

I leave the table and walk outside the diner. I don't look at him while getting off the place. When I reach the open area I take a deep breath. As if until now I had been underwater and had finally managed to reach the surface.

I control my emotions and manage to stop crying, the lump in my throat feels a little smaller now. I needed to listen to him, needed his explanation. I spent all those years believing that everything we had was not reciprocated. I felt like an idiot this whole time. Hearing those words from him made all difference in my way of seeing our situation.

I'm glad I accepted this date.

 I don't know how long I spent out here. I only get out of my thoughts when I hear Lewis calling me. 

-Are you okay?

I nod as I watch Lewis coming out of the diner door and walk towards me. He sits next to me on the curb right after. He also looks composed. The street is empty, and apart from his Mercedes, there are no cars around. I look straight ahead, while he's staring at me.

-Valentino didn't invite you to be a model. You volunteered. -It's not a question. I say without looking at him. 

-That's true.

He doesn't seem shocked to hear that I know about it.

-Why? 

-I knew you were there. And I knew this would be the only way to get close to you without you running away from me. I like Valentino. But there was a greater force.

I pull my gaze away from the road and look at him. There must be confusion on my face because it doesn't take long for Lewis to explain himself.

-Not that I'm a stalker or anything like that. -He chuckles. -But since I found out that you worked there, I haven't gotten you out of my mind. And those memories got even stronger. I didn't rest until I called Paolo and offered myself as a model.

-Why now? I understand you spent all this time thinking about it. But why just now? -My voice is low. I feel shy after his confession.

-Cause If I had come earlier, you wouldn't have accepted me. You needed your time to heal as I needed mine. And if I came before, would you listen to me? Would you come here with me? You would run away, I'm sure of it. Because Whether you like it or not, I know you very well.

-So it was all a plan? 

I play with a piece of dry twig I found on the ground so I don't have to look at him.

-No. Many things happened by fate. But since the moment I hung up the phone that day 9 years ago, I've been thinking about how to get you back.

I know what I'm going to end up doing the moment I hear the words coming out of his mouth, I have to do this not just for myself but for both of us. I would be supposing what would become of us for the rest of my life if I said no. I need to know if this is going to work out or not. I deserve it, and so does he.

-As if we had just met? - I look at him to wait for the answer. I see his face lighting up before my eyes, and I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.

-Yes. As if we just met. 

His smile makes me smile too. I nod to him, accepting his request. Lewis extends his hand to me in a greeting form. 

-Nice to meet you. I'm Lewis Hamilton. 

I laugh at his performance but soon join in the fun and shake his hand. 

-Nice to meet you, Lewis. My name is Angie Woods.

❀

I get up from the chair I've been sitting in for hours and go to my bag so I can pack my stuff.

Paolo and the rest of our team say goodbye to me and then leave the meeting room. I make my way to my office and run to finish some paperwork before calling it a day. The pre-season is consuming me all over. I've barely had time to do anything else that wasn't work related in the last week. I saw Lewis a few times at the company doing some photoshoots, but we haven't had time to talk in person since our date because of all the work that surrounds us.

But the text messages haven't stopped coming since that day. It ranges from a simple good morning to complex conversations about our life. I was able to try to understand him more during these conversations, and I am happy with the new person he has shown himself to be. He manages to put together the same essence as before, with all the learning from now, and all of this ends up forming a wonderful person.

I'm not putting expectations related to what I feel for him. I promised myself I would let it happen, and that's what I'm doing. He's given me the space he promised to so I could get used to this new idea, and that's what counts.

I was startled when I hear the office door being opened, it’s past eleven at night, and I didn't think there would be anyone else in the building. I turn quickly to the door and find Lewis staring at me, halfway into the room.

-Jesus! You almost scared me to death. - I put my hand on my chest as a way to calm myself down. - You don't knock anymore? 

-Sorry. - He laughs at my despair. -I wasn't sure if you were still here.

-Still here. This pre-season is killing me. But at least it's almost over. 

Lewis was still staring at me in the same position. 

-I wanted to talk to you. 

-Sure. Come in.

Lewis finally enters the room and closes the door. He comes calmly towards me, getting very close. Way too close. I'm leaning against my desk and observing him intently. He looks gorgeous. The casual outfit only makes him even more beautiful, as if that were possible. But I soon realize that something is bothering him.

He takes a deep breath to start talking but stops before emitting any word. His stare goes to my chest and lingers there for a few seconds. I see his features go from confusion to happiness in seconds. His hand goes to my chest, so he carefully takes the pendant from my necklace. The same necklace he gave me the year we met. I feel my cheeks burn with shyness.

-You still have it. 

We are so close that even though his voice comes out in a whisper, I can hear it perfectly. 

-I swore I'd never take it off, and I never did. It's been with me ever since. - My voice comes out in the same intonation as his.

Lewis drops the pendant but doesn't move an inch away from me. I'm starting to get used to and enjoy his proximity. His gaze moves from my necklace to my eyes, and I can see genuine happiness in his features.

-You really are the same Angie as always, aren't you?! -I don't quite understand what he means by that, so I don't answer his question. -Since always with the same passion for everything, even if it hurts you sometimes.

-I believe in benevolence. 

-I know, and that's one of my favorite things in you. 

His smile suddenly fades, and then he starts talking again.

-I will be back to racing in two weeks. I finished all work with Valentino today. I must go back to Monaco in a few days.

-Oh. Got it.

Lewis comes even closer, I'm already in amazement at his figure so close to me after all this time. His scent makes me dizzy and I can feel his breath on my face. I should walk away, all this closeness is getting dangerous, but I don't want to move at all now.

-I won't stay away for too long. -His hand goes to my hair that was resting on my shoulder and throws it back in a slight movement. -I'll be back in the second week of September. You will be here, right? And I will be able to see you. 

-Of course.

At this point, I'm not even paying attention to what comes out of my mouth. All my focus is on him and his movements.

-Great. -His hand comes to my face very carefully, I feel a shock the moment his skin touches mine, ah that touch, how I thought of it, sometimes I swore I could feel it. I close my eyes for a second to enjoy the feel of his warm touch on my skin.

That Lewis, with all this seduction, self-assured, is a new personality that I am appreciating very much. My head tilts to the side a little, to get more of his touch.

God, how needy I am. 

Lewis comes up to my exposed ear and whispers to me.

-I want to give something to you, A recent memory of the two of us. 

-What kind of memory? 

My eyes open, and I find a look of lust in front of me. I feel his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck.

I can't let this happen. That will end with my critical sense, I know that. But this trance is so good, I don't want to be over. 

His hand lands there and pulls me a little closer to him, he moves even closer to my body, placing himself between my legs. I put my hands on his arms, as a way of preparing myself to push him away, or as a way of feeling more parts of him.

-Lewis, we can't. 

My head resting on his hand, my hands holding his arms, his legs in the middle of my body, and every inch of my body screaming for him, it's clear as day how much I want this, and he can see it. Satisfaction is printed on his face. 

Who am I kidding?

-How can we not if you're calling for me right now? 

I don't know who takes the first step, but soon we connect in a kiss full of hunger and longing, the kiss is fast as if we were trying to make up for all the lost time.

He's even better at it, his hands roaming strategic places to drive me crazy. I don't think about what we're doing, I don't think about the possibility of someone coming in and seeing this scene, I just think about him, and how he got better, about his heavy body pressing against mine, and how this is going to drive me completely crazy.

I sit down at the large wooden table, and his hands roam my body as if he wants to memorize every little thing that has changed in me. The hand on the back of my neck pulls my hair back, putting my neck in evidence, Lewis grabs it and distributes kisses and hickeys that I know will leave marks, but I don't care at all about that.

I take my hand to his pants on his lump. Lewis groans and then goes to the hem of my shirt, taking it off soon after. 

-You have no idea how much I've waited for this. I spent all this time thinking of you, missing your taste, crazy waiting for this. -He says to me with a voice more rough than usual, his excitation implicit in every word spoken.

-Show me, Lew. Show me how much you missed me.

Lewis gets rid of my pants quickly after that, and shortly after I manage to help him take his underwear off. There's desperation in our movements, we want to connect like we've been waiting our whole lives for this, and the feeling is like something that. 

I'm already soaked from the moment he walked into this room, so there's no difficulty for him to get inside me. We'd like to linger for hours in kisses and foreplay, but the need to feel each other is so immense that there's no room for anything else.

Lewis put himself inside me without hesitation, and our moans echoed throughout the room. He holds me and stares at me as I get used to his size. He seems even bigger than the last time, and the feeling borders on pain, but it is an immense pleasure that completes me, in every sense of the word.

-God. That pussy is so good. So tight for me.

Our eyes are connected from the beginning. The feel of his body on mine and his words make my body shiver. The lunges start at a diligent pace and our moans are released without any attempt to hold them back. Not caring about anything other than the two of us right now. Lewis picks me up and carries me to the small leather sofa in my office, I get on all fours and wait for him again.

-You look so beautiful like that. So beautiful to me. Ready to get this dick. -His words are followed by a slap on my ass. A loud moan escapes my lips along with the sound of his hand smacking me. 

-Then come and fuck me the way only you know how to do it.

A grunt comes out of his mouth and he quickly positions himself on me again. The feeling is even more pleasurable. Lewis gives a few lunges and then pulls me close to his chest, his hand goes to my clit and stimulates me even more. My mouth is close to his, and our moans come out as one.

-I missed this so much. -He whispers in my ear. I can barely ratiocinate anymore, but I smile at his confession. 

-Oh, I'm so close. 

-Come. Come to me, my love. Come in this dick that is yours.

After that, I can't hold it in much longer, and the strong wave of orgasm hits me. Lewis connects his mouth to mine to quiet down the moaning sound since we're not even sure we're alone here.

My tremors made it clear that I couldn't take any more stimulation. I can't remember the last time I had an orgasm so fast and that powerful, it's like my body was waiting for him, and when I finally had it, I exploded with excitation.

Lewis gets out of me and sits on the couch. It doesn't take me a second to lower myself between his legs to finish what we started. His head falls back the moment I put my mouth on him. I take him where I can and with the help of my hands I stimulate his base, he's big and I end up choking a little. My saliva mixed with his pre-cum and my lubrication that's still in him.

-Oh how I love your mouth, my dear. -His voice comes out in an exacerbated exhale.

I could do this for hours, kneeling in front of him and feeling his cock fucking my mouth is like heaven. I play with my tongue on his glans before taking him back to the back of my throat, he moans loudly and takes his hands to my hair, starting to guide me in the movements. He squeezes my strands and starts to twitch and I know he's getting close.

-Angie, I'm gonna come. -I keep my mouth on him, and then I feel his jet going down my throat. -Yes. Swallow it all like the good girl you are. -He says between moans. It's so dirty and so good. And is with him.

Lewis pulls me up when he's finished and kisses me, we put our clothes on soon after, only then do we realize the risk we're taking with all of this, I feel ashamed and afraid that someone is still in the building and heard us, in this case, the dismissal would be least of my problems, but after what just happened I can say it would be worth it.

After getting dressed, we returned to the sofa to catch our breath. Lewis tucks me against his chest, and I remember how we loved staying like that all the time. Having that back for even a little time is incredible. I didn't think I would ever have that feeling back in my life.

-I didn't know you were the cheating type. -He says after a few minutes. 

His comment confused me for the first few seconds, but then I remembered the fake boyfriend I made up.

-Great. Cause I'm not. -I feel ashamed even though I don't have a boyfriend, ashamed for making him think that I would be capable of doing something like that. 

-What about your boyfriend? 

-He’s not real.

I put myself away from his lap and look at him. Lewis laughs as he stares at me. 

-Why did you lie about that? -His tone of voice is playful.

-I wanted to see the effect it would have on you. It was something of the moment. I just decided to say it, even though it was a lie. 

I was honest with him. He looks at me intently but doesn't seem angry. He pulls me back to him, and we seal our lips. We kiss for a long time, and still, the feeling is that it will never be enough.

-We need to go. - I say in the middle of the kiss. He moans sadly. 

-I don't want this to end. -His lips are still touching mine as he says this. -Come and spend these days with me.

I pull myself away a bit and look at him. 

-I don't know Lew. I still have a few things to conclude, and I don't think this would be a good idea.

-C’mon. We can just hang out, we do good for each other, Angie. I know you can see that. And no matter what happened, we ended up here anyway. -He connects our lips quickly once again. -Let's surrender to this

As if we weren't already surrendered to each other right now. 

I nod to him. 

-Okay.

❀

I feel the weight of his body on top of mine. I smile before I even open my eyes. His kisses start at the back of my neck and work their way down to my bare back.

-Good morning. -He returns to my ear and whispers to me with the voice of someone who has just woken up. 

I turn to him and open my eyes.

-Good morning. -The sight of Lewis, lying on my bed, with his unclothed torso full of tattoos and his face yet with traces of sleep makes me feel butterflies in my stomach.

I bring my hand to the lion drawn on his skin and trace it with my fingertips. My smile fades as I remember what day it is. The day he returns to Monaco. 

The days that we spent together were more than perfect. I managed to finish my work before the deadline so we spent all the time together, sometimes in his hotel room, sometimes at my house, but always together somewhere, alone, and in a bed.

We talked about how we're going to do it after our schedules get full again because of work. We didn't put a label or expectations in our relationship, we don't want to make the same mistake as the first time. So we decided that we'll let ourselves go with the flow. Today traveling is much easier, and we do it more frequently. We're going to see each other when we can, and meanwhile continue living our lives, with our goals and objectives in priority, as it should be, and as it always was been.

He takes my hand from his chest and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on my fingers.

-What time is your flight?

-At five. -Still, with my hand in contact with his, he interlaces our fingers together. 

-You have to go pack your things, don't you? - The disappointment in my voice is evident.

-Uhmm. -He sounds as sad as I do.

-I didn't even see the days go by. 

-It's because we were too busy. - I accompany Lewis in a laugh. -You could come with me.

-You know I can't. Fashion week will start soon, these days were a little break before the marathon to come.

-Okay. I understand. -He smiles at me. -It's great to see you conquering what you've always dreamed about.

I can't see myself, but I know my eyes light up when I hear his words. I'm relieved that Lewis understands and takes my dream as seriously as his own.

-Thanks. - My smile is sincere. At that moment, I'm completely exposed to him, showing how I've waited for this, even if deep down, how I've always been with him despite all the distance. I can't say that I have no doubts about any kind of relationship with him, but I can say that I'm happy to have received him back into my life. I feel at home in his arms like never before, and that hasn't changed even after all this time.

-You wait for me? -His hand tightens on mine as he utters the question. -I can come back in two weeks, just for a few days but at least we'll be able to see each other for a little while. If you want. 

- I'll wait for you, Lew.

My voice cracks, and he notices. All of this feels like deja vu. I can feel part of my pride going down my throat. I don't want to feel that way, I know I gave him an opportunity I really wanted, and I don't regret it for a second. But I'm afraid of happening again. I don't know if I could go through all that again. 

-I won't let it happen again. -It's like he read my mind. -I'll come back and get you. 

❀

And he came back, after two weeks, as agreed. He came back and brought with him a bouquet of peonies and all the love in the world. It was only for a few days but the goodbye was different from the last time, this time there was no hesitation or fear, just the certainty that we would see each other again, and again, and again.

When he couldn't come to me, I went to him. We learned to deal with the distance and enjoy every day we had together. I got to know his coworkers and his life as a driver, I remembered all the times we spent in karting garages, but there's almost no comparison. Formula 1 is another level.

I celebrated each victory as if it were the first, just like he celebrated with me when I managed to open my studio and left Valentino. As time went by, living with him only made me more confident that I made the right decision, it didn't take long for any doubt to be solved. And suddenly everything was perfect again. As if we were still those two 13-year-olds. As if nothing had ever gone wrong.

I became the happiest person in the world by his side, and with each passing day, it becomes clearer that it was meant to be. It was supposed to be the two of us. 

For a lifetime.

November 15, 2020. 2:52pm – Istanbul, Turkey

Tears rolled from my eyes. I've never felt so euphoric, so happy, and so proud in my life. He did it, he did it again, for the seventh time. I'm almost shaking with so much euphoria.

Angela walks over to me and hugs me. The whole garage erupts in celebration. Everyone's emotion is as if it was the first. 

That will never get boring.

I hear his cry and his words as he crosses the finish line, and I cry even more. I watch him get out of the car, go to the podium and celebrate his masterpiece, I watch closely, with my eyes full of tears and with a pride that does not fit in my chest, after everything I have seen in person, after all the struggles I've seen them go through, after all the times I've watched him racing on TV and swore it would be the last time, but I just couldn't stop rooting for him.

I never stopped believing, not even for a second. Witnessing him get there, and achieve this feat, makes me the happiest woman in the world. 

His eyes find me in the crowd and shine even brighter, he proudly shows me the trophy as if I haven't noticed it in his hands yet. I just want him, here with me, but for now, I watch him enjoying his victory. Today's celebrations begin with a champagne shower on the podium.

00:46 

We entered the room laughing. Our eyes are still teary with emotion. The noise of all the celebrations still echoes in my head. Finally alone. I stop the moment I close the door, and look at him, who is in the middle of the room, hands on his head, still in disbelief. Our eyes connect, and we start laughing together. At this moment it seems that finally, the penny dropped for both of us. I never felt like this, it seems like this time was different, like he finally proved to himself that he made it.

He runs to me and hugs me tight. Even sticky with champagne, I can't imagine a better contact. We stayed there, stuck together, for minutes. I feel Lewis crying into my neck, he's not the type of guy to show his emotions, but in the face of it all, it's impossible not to get emotional. I hug him back even stronger, and the tears of joy come back to my eyes.

-You did it! I knew you'd make it. - I said.

Lewis then pulls away from our embrace, but he still has his arms around me, his teary eyes shining brighter than ever.

-We did it. -His euphoria is almost palpable. -You stayed, supported me all this time, and never let me stop. You understood all the moments when I couldn't be present. My God, I love you so much Angie, so fucking much. 

I wipe the tears from his face with the palm of my hand.

-I love you. And it couldn’t be different. I've been here since the beginning, and I'll be here until the end, here by your side, no matter what. Seeing you achieve everything you ever wanted makes me beyond happy, Lewis. 

-But I still don't have everything I want.

Confusion shows on my face. Lewis walks away from me, going to his suitcase, which is thrown in the corner of the room. He picks something up but I can't see what it is at first.

-I've been carrying this around with me for the last few weeks, waiting for the perfect moment, and I think this is it.

He sounds nervous and a little shy. My heart bumps when I realize that what he's carrying is a small Tiffany box.

-Lewis... -My voice comes out tearful. I can no longer contain the tears at this point. It can't be that. We never talked about it, even though he knows that this is one of my biggest dreams.

Lewis calmly walks towards me, I can barely stand still, my heartbeat must be over 150 bpm. I watch him getting on one knee and taking my left hand. I realize what’s happening, he's going to do it, he's really going to do it right now, covered in champagne and more euphoric than ever.

-I promised you that I would make you my wife years ago in a hotel room in Monza, remember? -I consent. In my mind, it's like a few days have passed since that moment. -I love you more than anything. I want to be able to give you the whole world and even then it still wouldn't be enough. I love you for who you are, for all your kindness and empathy, I love you for your perseverance and hope in everything and everyone, I even love you for your stubbornness because that's what moved me sometimes. Angie, I can't imagine myself without you by my side, I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you, I want you to be the mother of my children, and I want to be able to take care of you until the end. -My sobs are already audible and I can see how hard he is trying not to cry. -You would make me the happiest man in the world by calling me your husband. Will you marry me?

I kneel in front of him, getting the same height as him, I look at the box that is now open and come face to face with an oval diamond ring, big and shiny enough to catch anyone's attention. Lewis looks at me expectantly. I put my hands on his face and kiss him as I've never done it before, Lewis's hand which isn't holding the box wraps around my waist.

-Yes! Of course. -my voice comes out tearful. -It's all I want. 

Lewis pulls away from me, takes my hand again, and carefully places the ring on my ring finger. He takes my hand to his lips and places a kiss. 

I feel like all my life and phases have brought me here, at this moment. I remember all the moments in our lives together and apart that made it clear to me that he is my soulmate, and there is nothing anyone can do when fate is sealed.

-I can't wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.

Final note

Thank you to those who read this far :). I'm happy with the story even though I wanted to add more details to it, but because it is a one-shot divided into two parts, I ended up incapable to give all the profundity I would like, so you might find it too rushed. But I'm still super happy with the result and I hope you enjoyed it too. I'm completely in love with these two so I might end up writing more about them soon. <3

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one #lh44 #smut fanfiction #au fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #mercedes amg f1 #Spotify

[taizi]

run, boy, run

chapter four

natsume yuujinchou pairing: one-sided kitanishi word count: 3k summary: Nishimura has a cursed mark on his arm, a crush on Natsume’s famous idol friend, and a whole lot of brand new problems that start and end with the taboo circle on his arm. full circle au

read on ao3

x

Satoru’s first clue that something is off is the black town car with dark-tinted windows parked a few blocks down from his house.

Most of his neighbors don’t have cars, and the ones who do have little boxy, fuel-efficient numbers that live under tarps in driveways until it’s time for the bi-monthly grocery haul.

The unfamiliar vehicle makes his lizard brain stir uneasily, but Satoru has been having a hard time lately distinguishing between things he should actually be worried about and things the curse is twisting all out of proportion.

Since no one else on the street is outwardly panicking, he takes that as his cue to keep walking.  

Satoru’s second clue is what gives him real pause. Fish, perched on his shoulder, is making a noise he’s never heard from her before. It’s a subvocal thing, low and rumbling, and her beady eyes are fixed without wavering on the car.

Or something near the car.

Automatically, his hand drifts toward his pocket, and the cellphone there that’s practically bursting with the names of people who made him swear to reach out to them if he was in trouble.

Kiyoshi was still home when I left, Satoru thinks. I could just turn around.

But mom was still home, too, and if he walked back through the front door at the same time he should have been walking into homeroom, she would blow a fuse.

The thought of her tirade causes his arm to twinge sharply, and he drops his hand away from his pocket. Be normal, he scolds himself. You promised Kitamoto you’d be normal. Normal people don’t worry about random cars.

Since he first discovered Taki’s circle, Satoru has seen dozens of yokai around town, big and small, mostly minding their own business. And their own business had very little to do with Satoru unless he stuck his nose in it. If there’s a spirit over there on the other end of the street, one that’s causing Fish to bait her wings and grumble, then there’s a good chance it doesn’t have anything to do with Satoru anyway.

At the very least, he’s certain that it isn’t the monster that cursed him. He and Fish have an agreed-upon signal for that, which is essentially just Fish screeching like a klaxon until help shows up.

Still, Satoru pivots on his heel and cuts down a side-street. He’ll take the long way to school today. He doesn’t want to go near that car.

“We keep meeting in alleys,” an unfortunately familiar voice says cheerfully, just before a hand lands on his shoulder.

Fish takes off in a flurry of feathers, a distant speck in the sky before anyone could even think about catching her. The first thing Satoru feels is relief that she’s gone. Right on the heels of relief comes a cool wash of dread, and a dull, steady ache in his arm. He turns, already knowing who he’ll find behind him.

As easily as if they’re old friends, Matoba Seiji smiles.

#

At school, Nishimura’s friends are lingering by the entrance, getting more and more restless with every second. When the bell rings, and they should all be in class, detention is the last thing on their minds.

Over the last week, one or more of them has always been there to walk with Nishimura before and after school, but he insisted and they agreed to let the constant guard taper off a bit.

He’s been doing a lot better since their war council with Natori, but the curse is still active and present in his mind, and they can see it when it goes to work on him. When Nishimura starts to think his friends don’t trust him to do something as simple as make it to school on his own, and his arm blooms with vivid, obscene color, the only thing they can do is assure him. Tell him of course that isn’t true, they do trust him, and if he thinks he doesn’t need an entourage, then they’ll be willing to back off a bit and give it a try. Anything that might give him a foothold to wrestle control of his mind back.

But he was supposed to be here nearly ten minutes ago, even accounting for the way he constantly gets distracted by cute dogs and weird bugs and talkative neighbors. Tsuji, who lives a few houses down from Nishimura, once famously dragged him into homeroom by the elbow and announced, “I bumped into him in the combini this morning, holding the bento he bought for lunch in his hands, and he told me he forgot about school until he saw my uniform.” It was hilarious at the time.

“Sensei left early to make sure he got here,” Natsume says tersely. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m calling Kiyoshi-niisan,” Kitamoto says, phone already pressed to his ear.  

Taki, who has been pacing in restless circles since Nishimura didn’t show up on time, says, “He can’t see. He doesn’t have the circle anymore. What if—”

“Don’t,” Tanuma says, not unkindly, but more like he can’t bear to listen to her bolt down that frightening rabbit hole. “I’m sure he’s okay. Fish would have told us if he wasn’t.”

At about that moment, in an example of the most absurdly perfect timing any bird has ever had, an agitated magpie flutters down onto the closed gate and raises the alarm.

#

Sitting in the backseat of the town car, his arms folded tightly across his front to hide the way his hands are trembling, the unconscious Nyanko-sensei a heavy, boneless weight in his lap, Satoru says, as firmly as he can manage, “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Matoba replies easily. “Your little pet is proof of that.”

Even more glad now that Fish seized the opportunity to bolt at the first sign of trouble, Satoru insists, “She’s just a bird. There’s a ton of birds just like her around here. Natsume’s mom has crows in her garden.”

He doesn’t know how long he’ll get away with playing dumb—when Nyanko-sensei scared Matoba off that night after the visit with Natori, the lucky cat spoke in front of them both. There’s no way this guy forgot about that. But Satoru has no idea what is safe to discuss with this boogeyman Natsume was so careful to warn him about, so he defaults to bald-faced denial.  

Something darts across Matoba’s face that looks like curiosity when Satoru mentions Touko, there and gone again in a split-second.

“This conversation would go a lot smoother if you’d do me the courtesy of honesty,” is what Matoba says, as if he’s been the epitome of good manners this entire time.  

The half of Satoru’s brain that isn’t spinning in anxious circles puffs up in indignation.  

“Courtesy? You’re the one who abducted me on my way to school!”

Rather than offense, Matoba seems to take delight in his attitude. He’s weirdly likable, for all that he’s also very dangerous and powerful, if Natsume and Nyanko-sensei are to be believed. It creates a sense of conflict in Satoru’s head, because part of him wants to sit here and argue with the friendly, conversational man, while another, much larger part wants to run far, far away.

That larger part wins, because Satoru is literally in the backseat of a strange car, alone, with his phone sitting out of reach on the dashboard up front.

He wonders, for a brief, hysterical moment, if anyone is missing him yet.  

“I can see why you and Natsume are friends,” Matoba says, as if he’s a proud relative and Natsume is a charming, if ornery, little cousin. “And I can see that you know more than you are willing to share with me. Is that loyalty, I wonder? Or ignorance?” He leans in, his long hair falling over his shoulder, and says, “Are you being kept in the dark?”

Satoru presses his arms tighter against his middle, trying to think past the hurthurthurt that pulses through the curse mark. He’s glad he wore long sleeves today.

He’s beginning to see shadows again, even here in the well-lit interior of the car. It’s a fog that creeps into his head, past reason and logic and common sense. Sometimes Satoru can feel it starting to happen, his mind turning against him as dark sympathetic magic makes him doubt, but there’s nothing he can do when that happens except cling to what he knows and hope it’s enough.  

He remembers, against better judgement, being made to wash the seeing circle away. Natori’s face frowning at him from across the table, even though he got what he wanted.

Was he being kept in the dark?

No, Satoru thinks. It was for his own good. His friends were worried.

Were they? Then where are they? If they’re so worried about him, why aren’t they here?

They don’t know where I am, Satoru thinks wildly. No one knows where I am.

He doesn’t know where he is, either. They’ve been driving for what feels like a long time, and the windows are too dark to see through unless he presses his face against the glass and he won’t do that while Matoba is watching him. Nyanko-sensei, Natsume’s unofficial shiki and glorified babysitter, is sprawled across Satoru’s knees in an unnatural sleep and dead to the world.

He’s on his own.

“I’m sure you must have heard stories about me,” the man says, almost gently. He’s still smiling. “But really, I’m not so bad. I just want to have a talk, and then I’ll drop you off wherever you want.”

Rattled, Satoru dares to glance sidelong at him. Matoba’s smile widens.

“All you have to do is tell me the truth,” he goes on. “Just level with me. Are your eyes the same as mine? Do you see the same strange world that I do? Is that why you and Natsume are such good friends, hm? A common perspective? It would explain a lot.”

Something about that remark wriggles past everything else, a slippery eel darting through muddy water. It’s the first clear-headed thought Satoru manages to grasp.

“What’s that mean?” he asks. “What does it have to do with us being friends?”

“Well, historically, Natsume doesn’t have the best track record, does he?” Matoba’s voice is rich with laughter. It isn’t mean-spirited, but it rubs Satoru wrong anyway. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” Satoru blurts. The pain in his arm recedes and the shadows peel away—he’s still afraid, but it’s the normal sort of fear now. It’s not the influence of a monster, leaning on him until he can’t see or think or hear straight. And it’s eclipsed, easily, by irritation. “He’s my friend because he’s funny and sarcastic and nice to everybody and a sore loser at trivia games. I like him. Our whole class likes him. It has nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about.”

That curiosity flicks across Matoba’s expression again, like something Satoru told him is brand-new information, completely unheard of.

It doesn’t do anything to curb his knowing smile which, in Satoru’s opinion, has become less likable and more punchable with every second Matoba talks about Natsume like he actually knows anything about him.

“And even if he did see your strange world, or whatever, what does that have to do with me? And what are you accomplishing by kidnapping me?”

“I would hardly call it kidnapping—”

“There are so many other things he has to worry about without worrying about you,” Satoru goes on, warming up to the subject. “You just show up and make his life difficult and threaten him and drag him into dangerous situations like he doesn’t endanger himself enough as it is! Yeah, he told me stories about you, because you scare him.”

For the first time, Matoba seems genuinely thrown-off.

“No I don’t,” the man says. “He’s well aware that there are better things to be afraid of.”

Satoru knows that much, too. Being cursed by a yokai on the edge of the woods was equally as scary as being forced into a car by a stranger. Maybe those two situations were entirely different, but the way Satoru’s heart thundered in his chest, the way he wondered for a brutally honest split-second if he’d ever see his brother or his friends again, was exactly the same.

“That's the point,” Satoru says belligerently, aware that he’s digging his own grave, “Natsume knows a monster when he sees one.”

Matoba studies him with keen eyes. His smirk is a quiet, thoughtful thing now.

“One last question,” he says. Lifting a pale, elegant hand, he points to the other side of the partition, at the burly figure in the driver’s seat. “What do you think of that guy?”

Burying anxious fingers in Nyanko-sensei’s thick fur, Satoru darts a glance that way, trying to find the trap in Matoba’s words. The driver, for his part, doesn’t turn to look back or acknowledge Matoba in any way.

“I don’t know,” Satoru says defensively. “He hasn’t said anything this whole time.”

Matoba’s smile widens, as pleased as a cat with a canary.

“That’s fair,” he replies, and gestures with his hand. The driver catches the signal somehow and twirls the steering wheel, pulling the car around in a neat U-turn. “A deal’s a deal. Where am I taking you?”

Home, Satoru wants to say, except mom will be there, and she’ll be angry if he shows up when he’s not supposed to. Kitamoto, is his very next thought, filled with wanting, so he says, “School. Even though I’ll definitely have detention thanks to you.”

“Studious,” Matoba says with a laugh. “I admire that.”

Rubbing one of Nyanko-sensei’s velvety ears between his fingers, Satoru asks, “When will sensei wake up?”

“I’d give it another hour,” Matoba replies, his tone reassuring. “He’s a little too eager with his teeth when it’s just the two of us, so I figured it was best to be extra cautious.”

Secretly, Satoru wishes Nyanko-sensei had managed to get one good bite in. Then maybe Matoba would have slightly less to be smug about.

Something strikes the windshield, and Satoru flinches in surprise. The car continues gliding smoothly forward, but another tiny projectile joins the first, and then another after that. Satoru stares as all the windows on the car are plastered with scraps of paper until the vehicle is entirely covered.

The interior is dim now, cave-like, and Satoru clutches Nyanko-sensei closer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Matoba says, making another gesture. The car slows and comes to a stop. He sounds unbothered, unlocking the doors with the button panel by his arm. “They’re here for you.”

When the door lock springs up, Satoru grapples for the handle and wrenches it open before Matoba can change his mind. He all but topples out of the car, Natsume’s cat clutched in the crook of one arm.

By the time he’s managed to find his feet, large hands are on his shoulders, guiding him upright. He jerks back reflexively, whipping his head around, but it’s not another stranger. It’s Natori, and the breath goes out of Satoru’s lungs in a rush of relief. He doesn’t even question how the man is standing here in front of him, the last place on earth a famous actor should be.

“Easy,” the man says, studying Satoru’s face carefully. “Are you hurt?”

Satoru shakes his head. For all that he was running his mouth a moment ago, he’s got nothing to say now. He lets himself be pushed behind Natori’s back as Natori makes himself a wall between Satoru and Matoba.

“There is such a thing,” Natori grits out, glaring murder at his shadowy counterpart, “as going too far.”

“You’re always one step ahead of me, Shuuichi-kun,” Matoba replies genially. “It seems like every remarkable child I manage to find has already been snatched up by the Natori clan.”

“This child has a family willing to press charges,” Natori bites back. “If you don’t think his aunt would take you to court and drag your name through dirt until she won, that’s only because you haven’t met her yet.”

Kitamoto’s mom, Satoru’s Auntie Mikako, is a force of nature. If she got wind of this, it’s over for Matoba already.

But he remembers Natsume’s warnings, how he talked about Matoba’s connections and his powerful family, and he doesn’t want the Kitamotos anywhere near him.

“Natori-dono,” someone behind Satoru says.  

Jerking his head, as if shaking off a collar someone tried to put around his neck, Natori says, “This is far from over. But for now, get lost.”

“It’s always such a pleasure,” Matoba laughs, and leans out the door Satoru left hanging ajar to pass Satoru’s phone to Natori. After snapping the door shut smartly, he rolls down the window, because of course he has something else to say. Satoru tenses when Matoba looks at him, and Natori makes a furious sound, but the strange man only adds in parting, “Natsume is lucky to have a friend like you. I hope he keeps you close.”

From anyone else, it might have been a threat. From Matoba, it sounds genuine. For the life of him, Satoru can’t get a bead on this guy at all.

When the car pulls away, Natori says, “Follow. Make sure he leaves,” which Satoru assumes is a command to his shiki. He’s too busy staring down at the lucky cat in his arms and keeping his breathing steady to worry overmuch about what’s going on around him now.

That is, until Natori touches his chin, a gentle instruction to lift his head. The man looks angry and exhausted and worried, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he demands.

“I’m sure,” Satoru replies. “All he did was talk to me. He asked me questions about Natsume and the guy driving the car and then said he’d drop me off at school. He’s really weird.”

Natori’s face does something strange. “There wasn’t a guy driving the car.”

Satoru frowns at him, pushed well past his personal threshold of stuff he’s willing to put up with. He’s over today. He’s going to have to deal with an unexplained absence from school and his mom’s temper when she finds out, but that sounds like tomorrow’s problem. All he wants right now is his bird and his best friend and a stack of comfort movies and sugary snacks, and maybe his brother, too. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask for.

“It’s not like it was driving itself,” he mutters.

“No,” Natori says slowly. “You misunderstood me. There wasn’t a human driving the car.”

Satoru blinks at him. As he watches, a little black tattoo crawls up the side of Natori’s face, coming to rest on his forehead.

“Oh,” he says dumbly.

Belatedly, he looks over his shoulder, and finds Hiiragi lingering behind him, where she’s probably been this whole time. She’s a little hazy around the edges, like he needs to squint to see her properly, but she’s there.

“You’re not wearing the circle?” Natori asks in a quiet voice. He sounds like he already knows the answer.

Satoru shakes his head, wide-eyed.

“Guess my eyes adjusted,” he whispers.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #nishimura satoru #matoba seiji #natori shuuichi #my writing #full circle #natsuyuu fic #and it only took me 2 years :)

[haywire-hetfield]

oh holy shit you write trans characters !! would you be willing to write something t4t with literally any steven adler ship ?! i honestly don’t have any preferences , sfw or nsft are both great :)

and no rush either !! i know you write gnr a lot less often than other bands >_<

I do! :D And totally, I hope you enjoy it!

Ship: Steven Adler x Lars Ulrich

Warnings: Ftm Steven, ftm Lars, cunnilingus, grinding, (slight) nipple play, porn with feelings, first time together

Words: 1,630

“You look so fucking hot,” Steven’s words made Lars laugh, sharp and sudden as he looked at him from the foot of the bed. They were so direct and Steven had a grin on his face that Lars couldn’t describe as anything other than boyish. It was bright and lopsided, showing too many teeth. 

Steven was stretched out on the bed, wearing only his boxers now and Lars had taken plenty of time to appreciate the view of every inch of skin offered to him. He had to admit that the sight was a pleasant surprise to come back to. He’d stripped his own layers off near the end of the bed, feeling a bit nervous to get undressed. 

The fact he was in front of Steven made this less stressful. Other partners might have respected him, but he knew none of them really understood him. Steven did, though. He understood him in ways his past partners couldn’t even imagine. 

“You’re hot,” Lars shot back, kicking his shorts off and climbing onto the bed with him. He didn’t hide the way his eyes scanned over Steven’s body. They hadn’t done this before, but they’d certainly gotten close. Neither had been shy about flirting, about insinuating what they wanted and now they were finally getting it. 

Steven was shockingly gorgeous. Lars looked over his soft-looking skin, the subtle curves that he’d mostly lost over time. His skin was covered in hair, particularly his chest and legs, something Lars knew he was very proud of. Lars understood the desire even if he didn’t have it himself. Steven made the look work anyway. Lars’ eyes settled on his chest, openly staring and taking notes of the differences in their bodies. 

Steven’s hair was so blonde and unruly, contrasting the dark locks that Lars put so much effort into keeping kempt. He’d never had top surgery, although he seemed very happy with his body, leading Lars to believe he never intended to. He had a lot more soft areas on his skin whereas Lars was far skinnier. Steven also had muscle where Lars did not, scrawnier than anything. They were both so gorgeous, Lars thought to himself. 

“You wanna give me head?” Steven asked, reaching down to grope himself through his boxers. It was obscene enough that even though Lars laughed, he could feel himself growing wetter at the action. Steven was just so effortlessly attractive. He nodded as soon as the question was asked because there was no doubt about it, he’d wanted to go down on Steven the entire time they’d known each other. “Good boy. Go ahead,” Steven grinned. 

He shifted his hips around, kicking off his own boxers and opening his legs to Lars. He was just as attractive between his thighs, as hairy there as he was anywhere else and the coarse hairs there shiny with wetness. His cock was thick and hard already, bigger than Lars’ own. Every part of his body was so beautiful in his own way, a totally unique creation that Lars wanted to sit and worship. 

So, that was just what he did. 

Kisses pressed along Steven’s thigh first, not diving right in just yet. Gentle fingers pressed through his hair as he watched Lars, letting him do whatever he wanted. He sucked a mark on the inside of one of his thighs before spreading him open and licking a long stripe from his hole all the way to his cock. Steven exhaled sharply at the sensitive skin being touched, but he didn’t pull away. His thighs acted as though they wanted to close, on instinct more than anything, although he kept himself open for Lars. 

Lars teased him for a while, for as long as he could. He pressed his tongue against his hole, never even truly pressing inside. He purposefully avoided where he knew Steven really wanted his mouth to be. Steven was obviously growing impatient above him, hips squirming and trying to angle himself better, but Lars held him. He finally took mercy and Steven breathed a sigh of relief when he did. 

“Yeah. Just like that, baby. Make me come,” Steven instructed and that was all Lars needed. He put every ounce of effort he had into making Steven feel as good as possible. Keeping his tongue soft, he experimented with different pressures and focusing on different spots until he found out what Steven liked best. 

Luckily for him, Steven was a pretty vocal guy in bed. He let out moans and whines freely, grunting when something felt almost too good, letting out shaky breaths every now and then. Lars focused on what he’d learned about him, doing the things that had gotten him the best reactions. He licked along his dick, swirling around the tip every so often just to get Steven’s hips to cant against his face. 

“Can I finger you?” Lars had asked when he pulled away from Steven’s crotch. Looking up at Steven, the blonde shook his head no and Lars nodded in response. He went back down on him, focusing on his dick again. Lars sucked at his skin the best he could, readjusting his head to get a better suction and that was when Steven truly started losing it. 

His fingers tightened in his hair and held onto him like his life depended on it. Lars kept his pace even and consistent, occasionally rubbing his tongue along the underside to keep Steven on his toes. He got louder the closer he got and Lars wasn’t surprised at all when Steven warned he was about to come. Lars continued doing exactly what he had been, working Steven through it. He only grew less intense when Steven actually came, not wanting to overstimulate him, knowing how sensitive the flesh could be. 

Steven finally let him up after a bit, loosening his grasp. He was breathing heavily, lying boneless against the bed for a few moments before recollecting himself. Lars stared at his body, looking at how wet and swollen he looked now. He smiled at the knowledge that he was the one that had done that and the one that could hopefully do it for him again, making Steven feel so good he couldn’t keep himself quiet or still. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Your turn,” Steven encouraged after another moment, sitting up in the bed and helping Lars up the bed, moving Lars on top of him and settling one thigh between his legs. “Be good and get off for me,” Lars’ breath caught in his throat when he realized what Steven was implying, but he went along with it. 

He settled himself onto Steven’s thigh, shifting until he could comfortably rub against his skin. Steven wrapped an arm around his back and pressed them close together, holding Lars down so there was no real space between them. His skin was so warm and soft, and Lars rocked himself against him easily. A groan escaped him at the feeling of Steven’s skin rubbing along his clit, his body hair rough and stimulating the sensitive bottom growth. 

“Fuck. It’s a lot,” Lars told him and Steven nodded in return. He got it, of course, he got it. “Feels so fucking good,” He added even though he didn’t need to explain. He rocked his hips faster, enjoying the way Steven stroked his lower back and urged him to keep going. He didn’t feel like he could stop even if he wanted to. 

Lars dipped his head down without thinking, licking at the nipple closest to him. It seemed to be a good choice because Steven let out a rough moan and reached to dig his fingers into Lars’ hair. He held onto his head gently, nudging him to keep going. Lars didn’t have to be asked twice, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Steven squirmed around a bit under him at first and Lars had a feeling he could make him come again if he tried to. For now, he just focused on his own pleasure and getting off like Steven had told him to. 

“Just like that,” Steven praised and Lars felt pride rising up in his chest, knowing he was doing what Steven wanted him to. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know it does. Feel how wet you are for me?” Lars nodded the best he could, biting down gently on the sensitive skin in his mouth. It earned a pleasant hiss from Steven. He knew Steven was right too, he could feel how wet he was against his thigh, making the slide easy and his hair stick together. 

With anybody else, he might be embarrassed, but he didn’t feel like that with Steven. He didn’t feel anywhere near shy or embarrassed with him. He pulled away from Steven’s skin to breathe, looking up at him with wide and slightly hazy eyes. He was lost in the pleasure like he’d never been before. Nobody else compared to how Steven was making him feel right now and he found himself getting hooked on the pleasure of it. Steven was smiling down at him, blonde hair framing his face like a halo or maybe the sun peeking from behind his head. Either way, all Lars knew was that he was beautiful and that his orgasm was hitting him less than a full minute later. His rocking grew uneven as he grew more sensitive, Steven easing him up so there wasn’t as much direct pressure and that was yet another thing Steven just knew without needing to be told. He seemed to know exactly how to touch Lars’ body, how to speak to him, what he needed from him. And God, Lars was sure he could fall in love with the way Steven treated his body.

#the fact they don't have an ao3 tag is criminal #lars ulrich x steven adler #steven adler x lars ulrich #lars ulrich #steven adler #guns n roses #metallica #metallica smut #metallica nsft #steven adler smut #steven adler nsft #lars ulrich smut #lars ulrich nsft #guns n roses smut #guns n roses nsft #rpf #smut #nsft #asks #fanfiction

[persephonescottage]

Honey & Wine | 02.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: Billy forgot the heart.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include kidnapping, stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: This took sooooo long but hey, Billy is pervy in this one so, I’m not that sorry. By the way, if you want to be tagged in this story let me know! Love u for reading this sorry I didn’t proof read bye💕

&

There is pomegranate juice dripping down your chin and Billy is thinking of ending his life.

Your sight is glued to an old paperback he stole from your Brooklyn apartment and your legs are glowing under the sun as you carelessly eat the fruit he offered you a second ago, laying on your belly on the beach chair.

You declined a drink from the quaint restaurant near the shore, claiming your head hurt a little and he accepted it.

Of course it hurt, you were cloroformed for days, he was surprised you didn’t feel worse.

The obscene sound your lips made when you cleaned the juices of the fruit by licking you fingers made him reminisce of the last few days.

How he carried you out of your apartment complex, your body limp and your lips parted but his hand firm on your ass.

When he put you in the back of his van that he already had filled with a mattress and lots of fluffy blanket so you’d be comfortable on the way to the private airport but ignoring the way your tits spilled from the light dress he had put you on.

Glancing at the rear view mirror every chance he could to admire your rack.

How he felt smoke coming out of his ears when the pilot he bribed eyed your thighs when he carried you to board the plane.

He held you the entire flight, holding you close on the wide leather seats of the private plane, making sure you were warm enough.

If you ever asked, he wouldn’t deny he got a little handsy under the blankets of the plane, with little whimpers coming out of you every time he stimulated a bit too much making his dick hard.

Asking the stewardess to leave you two alone so he could use your hand to touch himself. 

When you finally reached Greece he put you on a car and drove you straight to the house you now shared.

His adrenaline peaked when he put you down onto your bed for the first time.

He didn’t regret taking you but he had to be prepared for how you would react when you finally woke up.

So he took advantage of the time he had.

You wouldn’t mind would you?

Touching you in your sleep he found out you liked your neck kissed and three fingers deep inside you.

Or that’s what if seemed like with the pretty noises you made and the way your cunt tightened in your sleep around his digits.

He thought about taking it further but you woke up sooner than he expected.

Billy had time to think though.

Your new identities were husband and wife, he made sure of it, but the real you he wanted to win with his own merits.

He’d be a good man for you this time and you would love him in no time. A real good man, a gentleman.

But you were making it so hard right now, literally, swinging your legs back and forth making the bright pink dress you wore raise to the beginning of the curve of your ass.

The view of the sea waves crashing on the Santorini shore behind you turned completely dull next to the perfection of your body.

Should he say something? 

You’ve been reading for an hour now and he sat in silence next to you sipping beers under the beach parasol.

What could he say?

I’m so happy we’re here?

Can I put sunblock on you?

Let’s go back home and bang like rabbits?

No, he was supposed to be a gentleman this time.

The ringing of his cellphone was perfectly timed to stop him from saying or doing something stupid as he was just about to reach to your chair and pull the dress a little further up.

You finally looked up from your book, your hair messy from the beach breeze as you looked at him suspiciously.

“I have to take this, be right back.”

His answer was quick and he got up and walked away from her ever faster, giving no room for questions from her because he knew exactly who it was on the line.

He walked towards the restaurant and left though the store front leading him to a cobblestone street, took a deep breath and answered.

“Hi Frankie!”

“Hey! You never told me when you arrived. How is the cold treating you?”

Billy looked around, the sun shining over the bugambilia bushes in every house and the smell of the sea surrounding him.

“I’m okay, wish there wasn’t so much fucking snow though.”

Billy never had any trouble lying, in fact, that’s how he always won in both arguments and business negotiations, but lying to Frank always made him feel a little guilty.

“Well don’t worry about us, I’m holding down the forth for ya while you’re in Prague.”

Franks’s voice was serious, but not upset and he sounded careful. Billy panicked but didn’t let it show. 

He made sure to let the board know he’d be in Prague for a couple months seeing a group of investors, measuring the market in Europe, he had his secretary book everything for him there.

He even gave orders to prepare his private jet while Frank was in his office. There’s no way he suspected him.

“Thanks man, let me know if you need anything or if it starts to feel like too much for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine but there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Shoot”

“It’s about the librarian.”

Billy froze for a second before pulling himself together. He had planned this throughly, no one suspected him. 

Not even Frank Castle.

“What about her?”

“She’s missing.” 

“Since when?”

“Couple days.”

“You report her?”

He fakes concern for the protocol of his company but in reality he wants to know about the reaction the people who knew you had.

What did your job say?

What did Gianna know?

Did Henry listen to his threats?

“We tried but the police wouldn’t take it. She left a note in her apartment saying she’d go to California for a while to meet some friends. But according to her friend Gianna she didn’t know anyone down there apart from her ex’s parents, and they know nothing about her.”

Billy bites his lip waiting for the report to continue.

“Anyway, NYPD says the note is proof she went on her own will but her friend insists there’s something slightly off with her handwriting and her cellphone’s been disconnected  too.”

“Slightly off? How so?” 

Damn Gianna Esposito, he thought. He had practiced your handwriting for months, there was no way anyone could tell the difference.

“Something about her not signing her name with a heart or something.”

“Well if I was leaving in a rush I don’t think I’d adorn my signature either.”

Dammit, he forgot the heart. 

“Bill just tell me she’s not with you.”

“What?” His indignation sounded real and he gave himself a pat on the back for it “Why would she be with me?”

“You had a crush on her and you leave and she disappears I-“

“First of all I didn’t have a crush on her.”

I’m actually madly in love with her and I want her to be my wife, is what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“Second of all, didn’t you tell me she went to find me at the office and I was already gone?”

“Well yeah but-“

“But what? I came back to get her? Or faked my trip to kidnap her?”

Yes, that’s exactly what he did.

“Jesus Frank I don’t even know her!”

Lies.

Liar!

“I’m sorry brother I just thought- you know her friend said something about you leaving with her at the ball and I just thought maybe you ran away together or something.”

“We did an interview for the library gazette at the ball, nothing more. Run away together? What are we teenagers?” 

This call is taking longer than he expected and he wants to go back to the beach to keep an eye on you but he’s sure the phone will capture the sound of the ocean.

“I’m not gonna lie to you I though she was cute and I’d definitely want to sleep with her in the near future but that’s all. I have no idea where she is, for all we know she is in California, give it a few days.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you find any luggage in her apartment?”

“No. Her friend looked for it, she says she does have some bags.”

You do, Billy thinks with a smile. Vintage plaid bags. And of course they didn’t find them, he triple checked he’d gotten rid of them and made it obvious. 

“Then she probably did leave, whatever.”

“Yeah you’re probably right. But if you know anything let me know, I have a very concerned and very mean librarian here almost everyday.”

He can hear Frank apologize and give him a couple more news about some other clients but his head is somewhere else, suddenly remembering all the easter eggs he planted to make your getaway looked realistic.

It had been clean and he was certain.

He finally says his goodbyes and take cares with Frank not forgetting to make a few jokes about him ice skating in his designer suit before hanging up.

As he heads back in the restaurant and to the beach through the back door he reassures himself he had done everything right.

He calculated your every move and staged everything perfectly, Gianna wasn’t a threat to his plan.

All he had to do is make you choose to stay with him forever.

Would you give up everything to stay?

He finally sees you, you’ve changed positions and your sitting with your legs crossed under you on the beach chair. Your face completely hidden by the book and your hat.

You were right where he left you.

He had nothing to worry about.

#Billy russo #billy russo x reader #pony fic #billy russo fanfic #my writting #justice for henry #Pony fic

[muzaktomyears]

Bruno treated us to what for him was a smile. “You boys will make the Indra into another Kaiserkeller,” he said. “No one comes to this place,” he admitted, stating the obvious. “But you’ll make it go when you make show.”

‘Make show’… that was the phrase we were going to have to learn to live with for a long time. Bruno, in his halting English, pronounced it ‘mack show’, which didn’t strike us as being all that amusing as we stood there like sacks of potatoes with our suitcases in hand.

“Where are we staying?” someone asked, trying to change the subject. By this time, we were all anxious to seek some escape in a comfortable night’s sleep in a cosy hotel bed. Misconception number two. Bruno led the way farther along to the wrong end of the street – to a dismal cinema called the Bambi Kino which showed third-rate Westerns and the occasional sex movie. We followed him round a corner to the rear of this drab flea-pit where he opened a door which gave on to nothing but pitch darkness. We trooped through and peering through the blackness made out a light some yards along what turned out to be a gloomy corridor. It came from a solitary light which attracted us towards it like moths; we began to run, leaving Bruno behind.

The light was coming from a room. Lennon got there first, heading the stampede, closely followed by Stu Sutcliffe, who was always somehow near John. George was just behind them and Paul and I were the last in the queue. It wasn’t a pretty sight that greeted us; a scruffy, barren room containing two single beds and an ancient couch.

“What the fucking hell?” Lennon exploded.

“Fuck me!” the rest of us said, almost in unison.

John and Stu commandeered a bed each. George staked his claim on the couch. It was the old story of first come, first served. Paul and I looked at each other, wondering what the floor felt like.

Bruno had caught up with us and tried to charm us with his smile. “But there are two more bedrooms,” he boasted; Paul and I immediately thought that possibly we were the lucky ones after all at the back of the line. A room each, we thought.

We saw them in the flickering glow of matches because these two rooms couldn’t muster a solitary bulb between them. They were two dungeons, which is how we referred to them from that moment. They measured about 5ft by 6ft and most of that was taken up by a single bed on which we dumped our cases.

“You could just about swing a cat in here,” Paul observed drily – “providing it’s got no tail!” We mouthed enough obscenities to paper a wall, but Bruno either didn’t understand or pretended not to. “Only temporary,” he kept saying, “only temporary.”

Paul sat down on his bed in the darkness and I heard the well-worn springs groan pitifully. I knew how they felt. So to bed on our first night in Hamburg, filled with disgust. The big stars from Liverpool… The Beatles!

Even in the daytime, we found, there was no light. Our billet was an extension built onto the rear of the cinema – right next to the toilets! We had to wash and shave in cold water in the cinema urinals – where sometimes the patrons of the Bambi Kino would surprise us and stand and stare at the haggard, black and white apparitions. Lennon, George and Stu were living in comparative luxury in their drab three-bed room some 25 yards along a corridor. Bruno’s ‘only temporary’ promise never did come true. We were doomed to the dungeons, which became home, stacked with guitar and drum cases and a collection of old laundry.

Paul and I never knew if it was night or day. We wrote letters home sitting on our beds with pocket torches strapped around our heads like miners’ lamps. Day after day we all complained to Bruno about the dingy squalor in which we were living. We pointed out that we were, after all, lads from decent middle-class backgrounds whose parents had scrimped and worked to try to give us a good education. What had we done to end up in Germany being treated like a bunch of dossers or winos ready to kip down anywhere for a night? Daily we were given the same smarmy smile and promises, promises. Bruno had once been a clown, we were told, but he certainly didn’t make us laugh.

Beatle! The Pete Best Story, Pete Best and Patrick Doncaster (1985)

#writing letters home with torches strapped to their heads😭 #pete best #the beatles #hamburg

[throttlegainwell]

This is kinda late, but for the director’s cut ask, I’d love to hear your thoughts on “Dear Whoever You Are.” It always gets me.

Aw, thank you! And thank you for the ask. (And no worries--I wouldn't have been available to answer this until today anyway.)

So this is obscenely long and it spoils the end of Dear Whoever You Are. (Warning for discussions of pot, homophobic slurs, and references to Lonnie's shittiness.)

I have a lot to say about this story, even though it's short.

I went back and forth with the structure of this one a lot, trying to decide what kind of story I was going to tell. I wrote a lot of the letters in advance based on some of the issues that I thought Will might have or what I thought he might be able to slowly get off his chest, and I moved them around, letting the themes and emotional arc of the story emerge through that process. And what emerged was the story of a very lonely kid who missed his brother quite deeply. I actually didn't set out to make this about Will and Jonathan's relationship, but it revealed itself very naturally and I went with it.

For Will's voice, I didn't want it to read too adult, but I think he's probably a little sophisticated with his writing, you know? Not in every line, but there's a certain way with words and an artistry to some of the way he writes, even though sometimes he really does just sound like a kid--and sometimes he sounds a little younger than he is, since he's expressing a very broad range of emotions in these letters. The lyricism to his writing, though, does not obscure that he's a teenager with teenage concerns (and I think it just makes that trauma-instilled weariness even sadder, since it doesn't actually make him sound like an adult--it makes him sound like a kid aged beyond his years).

What should you know about me? I’m an artist. As in I like to draw and paint, but also that I’m pretty good at it. I want to be a professional artist someday. I’d like to go to school for it. My mom can’t draw. Jonathan is a little better—if he drew a shape, you’d basically recognize it, which is more than I can say for Mom—but not by much. I’m the artist in the family. I have no idea whether Dad can draw. If he’s ever tried. Wouldn’t it be an awful tragedy if he’s got an art prodigy somewhere deep inside him, suffocating under about fifty pounds of shithead and never to be realized because he thinks art is for fags and pussies?

[...]

The thing about dealing with Dad, though, is that it did sort of prepare me for the world. Mostly people are OK, but there are a lot of bullies out there who don’t want you to realize that they don’t actually matter. But Dad was my first bully, and he matters the least, so I know they’re all full of shit, too. I have much bigger problems now anyway. Problems you’re way too young to hear about. The nightmare kind.

This one kind of shows that line I was trying to walk with this piece. He sounds like a kid--he's excited to share his interests, he talks about himself kind of bluntly, and he's really honest in his appraisal. But then it hints at that baggage with Lonnie--like this dark cloud that kind of drifts over his narration. And he kind of appraises Lonnie here, too, and finds him wanting, but he also freely admits that this guy is basically a stranger to him. He's an abstract concept who made him feel bad on the occasions he actually had to deal with him in any kind of real way. But there's a tiny scrap of curiosity left there.

And Will has an edge here. He's not a mean guy, but he's seen a lot of shit by this point and he's really sad and lonely out in California. And as we see later, he does have some anger toward Lonnie, but it's very different from Jonathan's anger and comes from a different place. He's not great at controlling his emotional responses because he's just a kid (and a traumatized one at that), but he has a strong self-awareness, like Jonathan. It's not until near the end, though, that he really opens up about why he's so angry at Lonnie. And even though he's written Lonnie off and knows he's terrible, there's still a part of him that just can't quite accept being used that way.

But I don’t want to lose anyone, so I write it here and keep my lips shut, and I’ll destroy this just like all the letters that I haven’t sent. Not these letters to you, not the ones to Mike that are actually honest, not that one to Dad just so I could tell him properly to go fuck himself for trying to cash in on the worst thing to ever happen to me.

Also:

Do you have a lot of friends? I bet it's easier to make friends in the city. You don't have to be stuck with the same people who hate you from kindergarten on, year after year. I'm sure popularity isn't all it's cracked up to be—even if there was something desperately conciliatory about all of Jonathan's insistence that it's better to be a freak than to conform—but having a few close friends who'll play a ten hour campaign one weekend and save your life the next definitely takes the sting out of adolescence. So try to find those people. It's worth it, even if you do end up spiraling because none of them ever seem to call you anymore.

He tries throughout the whole piece to impart wisdom. It's not even necessarily always great advice, but it's very important to him. And he's very hopeful. Like, at times he's quite moody and sometimes very sad or angry, but there's a lot of hope and possibility and newness in many of his letters. Almost a sense of wonder.

Another things is that Will projects stuff all over this kid. Because he's not really talking to this kid, even though he does have real interest in him. He knows nothing about him and there's not really a strong possibility that he'll ever be more real at any point in the future. But Will is lonely, and he has a lot to get off his chest, and he needs to feel like he's talking to someone. So it's kind of sad, but also kind of astonishingly emotionally healthy. This kid has emotional resources to fall back on because he's been allowed that space to develop them, and he's using them.

My family’s grief destroyed them. I live with that knowledge inside of me, and I still don’t know what to do with it. I think pieces of that grief got tangled up in them along the way, like old netting with vegetation grown through it, and it’s there to stay forever in the landscape, even though I’m right here. Some kind of preemptive fear—like they’re holding their breath because they’ve been through it once so they already know what it will feel like and they’re terrified of ever feeling it again. I guess they don’t think they could survive it a second time. [...]

It’s all very frustrating. But how am I supposed to ask them not to feel that way? Jonathan cried himself to sleep when he thought I was dead. He cried alone, I think, but I don’t know why Mom wasn’t there. I don’t know what music he was listening to—all I heard was the click of the buttons, that familiar thunk of the headphone jack sliding home and the way his stereo whirred with a tape playing, so I knew he was listening to something—but I imagined it for myself. Something low and beautiful, maybe kind of weird—one of those sad, moody songs that I thought was a little boring compared to The Clash, too slow. (Jonathan really likes The Clash. He likes a lot of music no one has heard of. You probably don’t know them either. He never listens to them anymore, though.) Anyway, something slow, maybe—something I remembered just enough to hum for myself. Anything to drown out his despair and loneliness while I was freezing, starving, and hiding. Not because it was noisy, really—but because it was so quiet, like he wasn’t even allowed. I didn’t know that near-silence could hurt worse than a sob.

[...] I just knew that my brother was in pain and I couldn’t reach him. That I’d never really heard him cry like that before—like he couldn’t even breathe. If I could have seen through the veil, I know it would have been even worse. But there was something awful about only hearing the echoes of it, at the time. It made me feel almost as helpless as the monster did. Like hearing Mom falling apart even though I was so close, wanting to scream myself hoarse about how I was alive but keeping quiet so I wouldn’t die.

I wavered over whether to include this section because it's so dark and heavy, but ultimately I kept it because I really wanted to honor the horror that Will suffered and get his perspective on an aspect of it that I think gets overlooked very often. He had a front-row seat to his family's suffering. He knows exactly how much he means to them. And that must be a very heavy thing to live with, especially at that age, and especially on top of his own trauma and his own feelings. No matter how he feels or what he's experiencing, it must be there in the back of his mind. How will this affect my family? What will it do to them? Is it worth putting them through this or should I just be silent and spare them this pain? Which is exactly the opposite of what Joyce and Jonathan wanted to instill in him, but now he's a part of this terrible cycle that the two of them are trapped in, and he's hiding things from them because they have their own problems and he can't be the cause of any more. He just can't. Yet in some ways it's just part of this burgeoning independence that he's fighting for--he really wants to be allowed the room to figure things out for himself, even though it's somewhat painful and he feels lost once he gains that space.

You probably don’t like girls yet. Or maybe you’re like me. I hope you’re not like me. It’s a lot.

He also hints kind of a bunch of times that he's gay--so it's definitely a thing that he's firmly aware of, but he's not ready, until one of those last letters, to say it. But it's huge for him when he's able to commit it to paper and see it written out like that, even though he burns that letter, too. It's a big victory.

Besides, I hate the cold. I don’t remember a lot about Dad, but I remember thinking that he never seemed to feel the cold. He was always outside in December without a jacket, without sleeves—not that I knew him for many Decembers—and it would annoy my mom. She thought we would get ideas, I think. But he didn’t seem to notice the temperature or care when it started to snow. Like the world would just bend to his will and he didn’t have to acknowledge anything inconvenient about it. I bet he could freeze to death and still be thinking about cars and how his only real problem was that his kids were disappointments.

I like this bit because I think Will doesn't have a ton of memories of Lonnie, and this one isn't even Lonnie being abusive--it's just Lonnie being kind of a child and a bit of a prick. But it also explicitly draws a parallel between Lonnie and the Mind-Flayer in that he remembers them both as drawn to the cold, and he has that negative, traumatic association with the cold now. So it's very in-your-face, maybe too much so, but I think you can see Will kind of working this out for himself through the text and processing that uncomfortable truth. Like, IRL, we can analyze all of that and draw our own conclusions of the symbolism and implications presented in the series, but even in-universe, Will is kind of like yeah nope there's something off about this.

Did you know that when you cook chicken soup, you’re supposed to skim it? There’s some kind of layer of gross stuff that floats to the top. Mom is learning to cook more, and she didn’t know that. She kept wondering why it was coming out weird, but Jonathan didn’t say anything until the third batch, even though it turned out he knew the problem and the solution all along. (He knows how to cook more things than she does, and they tend to come out better when he does it.) I guess he was just planning to keep eating the weird soup. El didn’t even notice, of course. There’s basically nothing that she won’t eat. Jonathan is the same, really. I’m not even sure he tastes his food sometimes.

I just really like this bit. I think it says a lot about Jonathan, his role in the house, and the emotional and mental place he's in during the story. But I wanted to show that through 1) something kind of mundane and 2) Will's observations.

I stole a joint out of his room the other day. But I didn’t see what the big deal was. It smelled gross unlit, smelled disgusting while it was burning, and it made my whole chest hurt when I inhaled. I had to brush my teeth twice to get the taste out of my mouth, and my sinuses ached and burned for hours. I ended up flushing most of it down the toilet. It just made me jittery anyway, and then I got bummed out because he didn’t even notice. Didn’t notice that I was weird and didn’t notice that his pot was missing.

He didn’t used to be like this, I swear.

This is just really sad, I think. Like, on the one hand, I think it shows totally normal curiosity about drugs; he has access, he knows Jonathan is using them so they can't be that bad, and he does want to know. But there's also a part of him that's maybe hoping he'll get what Jonathan sees in it, or that maybe they can bond over it, or maybe even that it'll help him if Jonathan is so in love with it or whatever. But that's just not what he gets out of it, and he's left very frustrated and further alienated from his brother. But that He didn't used to be like this, I swear is just very, very heartbreaking, to me.

And on that note, I'm circling back to the beginning now to get more into Jonathan's side of things.

When my mom told us about you, Jonathan looked like he was going to puke. Then he looked empty. He’s mostly been high ever since, so I don’t really know how he feels about you.

This is spoilery to point out, but I hope it's one of those bits that hits different on reread. Because it's set up like Jonathan's response to this information is from a place of shock, since we're processing this reaction from Will's POV and this is news to Will. But Jonathan already knows here. So he's actually experiencing an entirely different set of emotions that Will has no context for and can't really perceive, let alone understand; he's feeling a lot of guilt from the tough choices he made, even though they weren't really choices at all because what the hell else could he have done? It's just bringing up a lot of bad stuff for him, and he's uncomfortable with the whole situation. Will has no way of knowing this, and Jonathan at no point sheds light on his feelings or perspective.

Another thing that I was trying to do was show Will's shifting mood via his salutations and closings. He almost always says Your big brother because he's trying really hard to put on this confident, loving big brother air--he really wants to lean into this role and he's very accepting of it. He's almost downright thirsting for this opportunity--especially because he has all this love to share and it feels like no one is receptive to it at the moment. He plays with these greetings and closings a few times when he's in high spirits (yours gayly, yours excitedly), but there are times when he's a little terse, too. Hey Kid, or just Yours, or Kid, or Sincerely, or no closing at all except Will.

And I really wanted to contrast that with the structure of Jonathan's letter. He greets David very simply, with an almost shy familiarity but without that ingratiation Will attempts. Right away, it's different because he knows this kid's name. So either some time has passed and they've learned new information or he had this information all along--and he quickly reveals that it's the latter. And while his closing is warm and kind, it is in no way familiar or open like Will's. It's really very distant and just short of almost formal. This is not a relationship he's trying to form or a door he's opening, but rather a chapter that he's trying to close in the least-shitty way possible. He signs it Jonathan and leaves it at that.

And that leads me into the thing about his letter that I really wanted to come through above all. He's trying very hard not to claim this kid as his family. He's not comfortable with this at all, but he'd do anything for Will, and this is what Will wants. This is a stranger to him, and he'd like to keep it that way, even as he offers up what he can--even as what he offers is somewhat painful in a very understated way, where you have to really read between the lines to see how he feels about it. He straight-up says, more or less, that their connection is through Will. Like, technically they're related, but he introduces himself as Will's brother first and foremost--right away, he's clearly not particularly open to the possibility of a relationship.

It seemed important to Will that I try this, so here goes nothing. Will is your brother. I’m Will’s brother. I guess I’m your brother, too.

Will felt an immediate kinship with and curiosity about this kid--maybe because of the mystery and distance, but maybe he would have felt the same if they'd met--but Jonathan has met him, and it's a memory from kind of a shitty period of his life, and more than that, it just represents a lot of baggage for him. David was never his responsibility--there is literally nothing he could have done for this kid and there was no possibility of a relationship at the time either--and there's an extent to which he's trying to tell himself this, but he can't quite internalize it as truth even as he's very honest about this, even kind of blunt. Shockingly blunt, almost. (Like, he's definitely not dumping his baggage on this stranger, but he says things that he would definitely not share with his family.) He feels like he abandoned this kid. He's always been someone's big brother, and he's always had responsibilities well beyond what he should have, so of course he feels this way. But he does take kind of a healthy, pragmatic view of it. He's like, well, what could I have done? And it's ambiguous whether he's stating a fact or trying to convince himself or maybe even trying to plead his case to David.

There's this real air of weariness and almost melancholy to it that he could kind of hide or distract from, maybe, in person, but it's hard to hide it in writing. He's also clearly not totally aware of the implications of some of what he's saying because... that's just his life. So parts of it read more disturbing than he probably intended--something that a kid wouldn't catch, that even an older teen might not catch, but that maybe Kim would notice.

You seemed healthy and happy, as best I could tell, though I don’t think there’s much I could have done if you hadn’t. But I decided not to worry about you because that was just one more thing than I could handle. Your mom seemed to have it covered. I had enough responsibilities already. I hope you understand. (Actually, I hope you don’t understand. I hope you have no idea what I mean.) You were clinging to her legs, but you weren’t hiding behind them. So I knew you felt safe with her, but you weren’t afraid. You looked like Will, only blond. A really young Will, just a little younger than the Will in the first photographs I took—the ones my mom still has. (If you want to know what Will looks like, go look in the mirror and imagine you have brown hair.) Your eyes were brighter, though. I knew (hoped) you’d be OK.

What's brutally sad about Jonathan's letter, I think, is how different his priorities are in comparison to Will's. Will is thinking about this kid's identity and his interests and even, to some extent, his future. He wants to know who this kid is and what they might have in common, and he's full of what-ifs. He does think about his emotional well-being and his safety (whether Lonnie is mean to him, whether he's bullied at school, whether he has friends), but not as much.

Whereas Jonathan, who couldn't have been older than fourteen or fifteen tops when they met, looked at this child and clearly did an immediate inventory of his physical well-being, and he very carefully tried to discern whether it seemed like he had much contact with Lonnie or whether he was safe with his own mom (whom Jonathan only knew, so far, as someone he was meeting through Lonnie, whose associates usually sucked ass and were generally dangerous). He needed to know whether this kid was walking out the door with someone who would neglect and/or abuse him because that's what Lonnie would do and what a lot of his friends would do. Jonathan cared about whether this kid seemed properly fed, had clean clothes, seemed generally well-cared for--whether his demeanor was fearful, whether he had any visible injuries or showed signs that he might have non-visible injuries, whether he was reactive toward Lonnie or seemed like he'd spent a lot of time in that house. It's sad for a host of reasons--from the fact that he feels the need to do this to the fact that he knows roughly what to look for and how to spot it.

He's very analytical about this--like, okay, this kid is clinging to her legs because she represents safety to him and Lonnie's place is scary and overwhelming, but he doesn't seem fearful generally so he'll probably be fine once he's away from Lonnie and he's not afraid of her. It's heartbreaking that he feels this is necessary and that he's not wrong to do it. Will, as compassionate and sensitive as he is, would simply not notice many of these things (or at least not think to look for them) because it's not how he's had to think, necessarily. Because he was, to some extent though certainly not as much as Joyce and Jonathan would have preferred, insulated from this and because he's never had to look out for someone else's needs (or not the same way). Meanwhile Jonathan is checking trunks for his brother's body. So there's a fundamental difference in perspective there that Jonathan can never really get away from. The world is not a safe place; don't ever take safety for granted.

And there's something really defeated about how he approaches this--he can't not evaluate this stuff, but he's keenly aware that he's pretty helpless in the face of it because he's just a kid himself. He has no power here, and even if he did, it's just too much for him emotionally on top of taking care of Will, helping out Joyce (who was presumably in a very bad place around this time), and raising himself. His concerns are extremely pragmatic--no more than that. He can't afford more than that. So he does care, but he really has no more to give. (And they're related, yeah, but that doesn't necessarily mean some instant and unshakeable bond--that's just not what happens a lot of the time, and I think it's perfectly legitimate and fair to have that reaction instead of the more storybook one. Especially in circumstances like these. It also just doesn't resonate the same way for him because it doesn't represent any big paradigm shift for him--he's already someone's big brother, and there's no great wonder here like Will has. Whereas Will kind of sees an opportunity to reinvent himself, and it's also an opportunity to try on some more responsibility, which he's desperate to be given.)

But Kim seems nice. So he tells himself that it will be okay, and he has to believe this because he knows what Lonnie is like and what he's capable of. And this kid looks just like his little brother, whom he cares for more than anything in the world. He literally sees Will in him. So it's a small guilt that just kind of lodges in places and crystallizes. He's also like if you want to know what Will looks like, go look in the mirror, but he doesn't offer much about himself. Very intentionally.

Your eyes were brighter, though is just one of those lines that's actually really dark when you think about it. He's saying that he knows Will has suffered, despite his best efforts. Will doesn't have quite that same awareness that Jonathan does, but he's by no means naive or untouched; he's also an abused child and he comes from a deeply trouble home and he's bullied at school. He's sad and he carries a certain heaviness within him, even though he's got this bright and sweet disposition, and Jonathan can read it on his face. He sees his pain. But this kid, whom Jonathan knows nothing about except what he can observe in this brief window of time, looks brighter and happier than his little brother, whom he loves more than anything and anyone in the world. Whom he would do anything to protect and whom he wants desperately to shield from the ugliness that he's had to face. So it's a very painful comparison, but there's also something brutally pragmatic about it. He's saying, I can't help you, and you don't really need me the way Will does.

(Kim, if you’re reading this, I thought you were pretty cool. You gave me a stick of gum and said you liked my Clash t-shirt. You looked me in the eyes, instead of past me or anything else, and you talked to me like a person. I appreciate it more now than I did at the time; I was pretty angry back then. Thanks for not taking it personally.)

I really wanted it to be a nice, uneventful memory. Like, okay, he learned he has this little brother, he learned that Dad definitely cheated on Mom, but none of this is really a shock and it's not particularly emotional for anyone. It's just a thing that happened. She was decent to him. He was probably a little rude to her in a vague disgruntled teenage way, but not dramatic, and it's understandable, even though he's clearly a little embarrassed about it now. But you can see a lot about the kind of person she probably was and what that would have meant to Jonathan, who basically had no support in his life at this time, to be treated with respect by an adult--because it implies that he's not used to being treated with respect by adults, at least when he visits Lonnie. Which is in itself very sad. But I really wanted to show him something reassuring and to just have someone treat him decently. And that scrap of basic decency felt like a lot to him.

And from the way your mom looked at Lonnie, I know she didn’t let him into your life. I hope you know she did it to protect you and that you’re better off without him, but in case you didn’t, now you do. Dad sucks. Don’t worry about him. He’s not worth your energy.

He really says very little about this guy, but it's haunting the whole letter. There are undertones of this pain all throughout. Jonathan is keenly aware that this is their point of connection, and in some ways very open about what he thinks of Lonnie--certainly much more open here than he ever is with Will about it. So there's a way in which he's revealing more here than he feels like he can with his family, even though he's still not willing to open up to this kid and doesn't want a relationship. But he's not really softening things as much as he might with Will. And while it's not stated in the story, no, I don't feel like he let Will read this letter before he sent it and I don't think he shared any of this information with him. Nor did he tell Will that he already knew about David.

So he's leaving the door open, but ultimately he's hoping that it stays shut. At least at this point in his life--probably trying to tie up loose ends, before Vecna is defeated, and so with a lot of uncertainty hanging over him.

So. That was my interpretation of Lonnie potentially having another kid. Mostly as a lens through which I could explore Will's relationships with his family and with himself. And Jonathan was always going to know--that's kind of his role within the family, you know? He's burdened with all this terrible knowledge that he shouldn't have, and he just has to live with it and make the best of things. But I really wanted to show how differently they both responded to this information and why.

#answered asks #director's commentary #long post #very long post #dear whoever you are

[ladyescapism]

second choice - part 3

summary: azriel's long-time casual fling wants more, when she is rejected, she is pursued by a certain Autumn prince. will they remain fronds, or be torn apart?

a/n: here is part three to second choice. i didn't know if I was going to make a part three to this but here we are. I am going to make a part four to wrap everything up and it will be the next thing I post. beware, azriel is a real asshole in this one, more so than the last two.

warnings: violation of privacy, mentions of domestic violence, drinking, infidelity, and death

wc: 2,700

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months had passed since Elain’s wedding, and everything had gone back to as normal as it could be. You signed the final contract with Rhys, selling the weapon and its manufacturing rights to him for an obscene amount of money. 

You celebrated with the Inner Circle one night at Rita’s when our semester finished. There were some toasts in your honor that made you tear up. You had a night of fun and laughter with your friends. You talked about your travel plans. You wanted to go see the great libraries in the Day Court and attend the Harvest Festival in the Autumn Court. Everyone was supportive of your plans, and Rhys suggested writing to Lucien about skipping the waitlist to access the libraries. 

Azriel didn’t show up. 

At the end of the night, you found yourself walking back to your apartment with Mor, you having drank too much while she was still sober enough to make sure you got to the right apartment building. 

“You’ll have fun, seeing the courts,” she sighed into the cool night air. “It has always been something I enjoyed.” 

“I hope so,” you mused, the alcohol muddling your thoughts. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the friendship between you and Mor or the disappointment of Azriel not showing up for you that night that made you confess your feelings to her. 

“I have other reasons for going to Autumn.” 

She paused and looked over at you in confusion. 

“At Elain’s wedding, remember how I danced with Eris and made Az super angry at me? Well, right before that he asked if he could start sending me letters. He did and we’ve been writing back and forth. When I go, I was planning on staying near or at the Forest House and spending time with him while I’m there.” 

Staring at the ground and kicking at it with your shoes was a better option than looking at what was undoubtably betrayal and anger crossing her face. 

“Just be careful when it comes to Autumn courtiers. They are a ruthless bunch, Eris included.” 

“You’re not mad?” You looked up at your friend, shocked at her calm response. 

“You’re a grown female, Y/N. I have no say in what you do or who you spend your time with. I can warn you about Eris and his ilk. But if you want to spend time with him, then you don’t need my permission.” 

You wrapped your arms around the amazing female you called your friend. 

“Thank you,” you whispered in her ear. 

“No need to thank me, Y/N.” You released her from the hug. “It’s what friends do. Besides, look at what happened to Azriel when he tried to meddle with who you spend time with.” 

You let out a long sigh and started walking in the direction of your apartment again. 

“Az and I were – are – complicated. More than friends but never lovers. Not real lovers anyways.”

“Friends with benefits,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders a little. 

“I suppose. But it seemed like his benefits outweighed mine. I mean, the sex was good, but I was a friend, a therapist, and a whore for him. And now he can’t bring himself to come to a celebration for me.” 

“I’m still mad you never told me, by the way.” 

“It was fun to keep it a secret for the first few weeks, but when he made it clear that he didn’t want people knowing about us, it was more embarrassing to admit I was with him just as a fuck buddy.” 

Mor hummed in understanding in what it was like to have a complicated relationship with the shadow singer. 

You and Mor reached your apartment building and hugged before saying good night.

Your apartment was the same as you left it, excluding the Illyrian warrior sitting on your couch. 

You jumped when you noticed him, bringing a hand to your heart on reflex. “Mother on earth, Az! What are you doing here?”  

“I came to talk to you.” 

He looked at you like he did the night you ended things with him. Wounded and dejected. 

“Give me a minute.” 

You hurried and took off your jacket and put your things down, trying not to look at him as you did so. Azriel in your living room was not a foreign sight, but one you never thought you’d see again. 

Having decided you were ready for this conversation, you turned to look at him. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“Don’t go to Autumn,” he rushed out. “It’s dangerous to be around people like Eris. Go to Day, Dawn, Summer, or Winter. Hell, go to Spring. Just not Autumn.” 

“I am a grown female, Azriel. I make my own decision about where I go and who I spend time with. Not you. And how did you know that I was going to Autumn?” 

“I sent the shadows to make sure everyone was safe, and they reported back on that conversation. And you’re right. But-” he stopped. “I am asking you, as a friend, don’t go.” 

“If you were my friend then you wouldn’t ask me not to go,” you shouted. “I just told Mor that part of the reason I wanted to go was to see Eris, and she was fine with it. And she has more of a right to be angry with me about spending time with the male who hurt her in the past than you. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I am not doing this to you,” he shouted back. “I am concerned for your safety!” 

“No! You are trying to control me and manipulate the feelings I have for you so that you can guilt trip me into doing what you want! Well, my feelings for you have changed. So good luck with that.” 

“You’re not my friend anymore,” he questioned, his voice lowering to a whisper. 

“I want to be your friend, Azriel,” you said, tears threatening to fall. “But friends don’t do this to each other. They don’t tell each other where they can and cannot go or who they can or cannot see. They don’t show up unannounced to make such demands. But I am willing to try, Az, because I care about you. But like I said that night, I can’t be your whore anymore. And this,” you gestured between yourself and him, “isn’t real friendship. This is toxic.” 

“It is,” he agreed. 

“I need time away, Azriel. Let me have it.” 

“Just-” he sighed, “just be careful, Y/N. Eris is a courtier by nature, a cunning one used to getting his way. Don’t let him take advantage of your kindness.” 

“I have been around the town a few times, Azriel. Thank you for the concern, but it can take care of myself.” 

“Okay then,” he said, defeated. 

“If that’s all, I want to go to sleep.” 

“I’ll leave then. Good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night, Az.” 

And with that, he disappeared into darkness and shadow. 

THE NEXT DAY 

You sat down in the chair at your desk, careful not to spill coffee on the papers scattered everywhere. You would get organized, one day. 

Your head was pounding but you needed to write three letters. One to Lucien asking to get into the libraires without having to get on the waiting list, one to your sister asking if the dates you had decided on worked for her and her family, and the last to Eris to confirm your stay at the Forest House. 

The letters to Lucien and your sister had been easy. However, every time you went to write a letter to Eris, you stared at the page for at least half an hour before coming up with the proper phrasing.

You needed to reference something that he mentioned in a past letter. You reached for the box that you kept them and opened it. Thumbing through the box, you noticed that the first and second letters he sent you were in the wrong place. Just the two having swapped spots in the chronological order you kept them in. You knew because the dates on top of the letters Eris sent you were always in the same place on the envelope. You looked in there last night to count how many letters you have received from him and would have noticed if they were off. 

No one had been in your apartment…

But Azriel. Unannounced. And he could have been in here for hours while you were away at Rita’s. 

 He wouldn’t. 

Yes, a spymaster would look through letters between a foreign High Lord and a professor who just sold a high value weapon if he thought they might be conspiring, you thought. Or if he cared about the person receiving the letters and detested the one sending them. 

Before you could think it through or calm down, you used a message box to summon Azriel. 

Azriel,

Need to talk. ASAP. My apartment. 

Y/N 

He arrived a few moments later, a hand on Truth Teller and looking around the room to assess for threats. 

Having deemed there was no immediate threat, he looked to you. You were just standing by your desk, letting the pure rage show on your face. 

He looked to you, and to the box of letters sitting open on your desk and back to you. 

“Y/N-”

“Did you go through my letters?” Your lips were quivering with fury and hot, angry tears were threatening to spill over at the overwhelming feeling. 

“Let me explain,” he pleaded. “I needed to make sure you were safe.” He dragged his hands to his hair, pulling the locks back to reveal his face. 

“So, you did then?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, lowering his head in shame. “Before you got back here after Rita’s, I came in and looked at the letters.” 

You didn’t need to know anymore. 

“Get out,” you spat. “Now.” 

“Let me explain more, please.”

“GET OUT,” you screamed, that voice having not been dragged from your soul in many, many years. 

He held your gaze for a few long moments, before disappearing in the shadows. 

You sank to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest and letting the angry sobs rack your body. 

You stayed like that for the better part of an hour before pounding came to your door. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called from the hallway. “It’s Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Az was upset when he reported to Rhys this morning and Nesta found the message you sent him. Can we come in?” 

You pulled yourself off the floor and padded your way to the door. 

You pulled it open to reveal your three best friends standing there with concern on their faces at the look of despair on yours. And you broke down crying once again. 

After recounting the details of your morning, Nesta was ready to kill Azriel. Feyre and Mor were ready to help her hide his body. 

“I don’t know why he is acting like this,” Feyre said. “He isn’t normally like this.” 

“What,” Mor questioned. “Obsessive? Possessive? Domineering? He was like that with me for 500 years. And after I came out and started dating females openly, he acted like anyone mentioning it near him was a personal attack. He was like that with Elaine, especially when she began exploring the bond with Lucien. He was also like that with Gwen when she told him she didn’t want a relationship. He was so convinced it was because she was seeing someone else that he had her followed.”

Nesta just huffed out a long, angry breath. 

“I love Az, he’s been like a brother to me for centuries. But he sucks with females.” 

“I second that,” Feyre said. 

“The worst part of it,” you said. “I’ve been here before.” 

The females looked at you in confusion. You decided it was time to offer up your past to the strong, brave females you called friends. 

“My husband was like that. Obsessive, possessive, domineering. It was cute when we were dating and first married. How he would get jealous when I went out with friends or talk to other males in class or something.” 

You took a deep breath. 

“But as our relationship grew, he started isolating me from my friends and my remaining family. Then it got worse. He started reading my mail, even not letting me go shopping by myself. Then came the belittling and name calling.” 

You sniffled. 

“After half a century of hearing how worthless and stupid and horrible you are, you begin to believe it. You believe that you have to stay with the male that cheats on you and does all these things to you because no one else will ever put up with you.” 

You watched as your tears darkened your pants with little circles as they fell. 

“And when he hits you, your first instinct isn’t to run. It is to do everything in your power to make sure it never happens again. Which means never bring up the drinking or the other females. Quit your job so that you can keep a clean house and make sure dinner is ready for him when he gets home. But its never enough and you become a punching bag for the male that vowed before the Mother to love you till his dying breath.”

Feyre pulled you to her chest as you finished. 

“And when he finally drinks himself sick and dead, you cry tears of relief and not sadness as you bury him.”  

You looked to Nesta with a newfound determination as you said, “I will not live like that again. I refuse to live in fear of a male I am supposed to trust. I refuse to let another male control me like that again. I don’t think Azriel has it in him to hit a female, but if I stay on this path with him, then I will go back to living in fear.” 

Mor pulled everyone into a group hug, much to Nesta’s annoyance. 

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Mor said, still holding on tight after the sisters pulled away. “It couldn’t have been easy.” 

“I know it’s not like what you all have gone through. I didn’t run when people hurt me. When I got knocked down, I didn’t get back up. I kept my head down and took the punches. But it still affects me and the only way I know to make sure I never live like that again is to look for the warning signs and steer clear.” 

“Drowning in 70 feet of water has the same result as drowning in 700 feet of water,” Nesta said. “But trauma and how each individual responds to it and heals from it is not something to be compared. It took me a long time to figure that out.”

You nodded in understanding. 

The girls stayed for a while longer. Feyre drew you a bath and left you to cleanse the morning’s stresses away. 

Once the water turned cold, you readied yourself and sat back down at your desk, preparing to write that letter to Eris. 

The phrasing came easy to you after relaxing in the bath for so long. You rambled on for two pages about seeing your family and the Day Court and other trivial matters before cutting yourself off. Eris claimed to like it when you spoke about your day and any and all things affecting you. You never aired out your issues with Azriel to him, though. That would cause a bigger problem than it was worth. 

You spent the rest of the day cleaning a few things around your apartment and getting ready to go to dinner with Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Feyre sent a note asking to go out again a few hours after they left. 

You took the letters you needed to send with you, deciding to drop them at the post office before you met the girls for dinner. 

“Postage to where, miss,” the clerk at the post office asked. 

“The village of Absinthe in the Night Court for this one, the Sol Place in the Day Court for this one, and the Forest House in the Autumn Court for this one, please,” you said, placing each letter on the counter as you stated their destinations. 

“Someone is communicating with some important people,” the clerk said slyly. 

You couldn’t help the grin that broke out across your face as you thought of the recipient of the last letter. 

tags:

@feysandzoyalailover

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #males suck #eris acotar #acotar

[tenjiiku]

over the hill

you think the boy in front of you is trying to tell you something. you had both been standing next to each other in this bus — as you typically do after school. he has been a common occurrence but this is the first time you have seen his lips move, and have that directed at you.

however, you have your earbuds in and the bridge of the song you are listening to sounds too good underneath the hot summer’s sun rays that permeate through the windows.

he looks concerned. this gets your attention.

you take one of your bud’s out, and put on an uncomfortable smile, “huh— what?”

“something’s leaking outta your—” he trails off. you raise an eyebrow. then, you feel damp at the bottom of your skirt.

you turn your head, and look down.

“oh— shit!”

you look back at him with blown out eyes. his own are widened. you see a reflection of yourself through the lenses of his glasses and you wince a little at how obscenely sweaty and unkempt you look.

the other patrons in the bus gaze at you with something between annoyance and amusement. but nothing matters when a puddle of an odd dark coloured liquid is forming directly behind you, near the second door.

“fuckin— fuck me.” you murmur quietly as you can, pausing the music of your walkman and chucking your backpack off. you try to discreetly run a hand on the back of your skirt to assess the damage. it is damp, but not wet enough to display a stain.

you look at your backpack. it is completely soaked from the bottom. you hurriedly unzip it. you are slightly aware that the boy in front of you is still looking.

“shit, shit, shit.” you whine out, taking the can of cola — now broken and leaking — out of your bag. your notebooks and pencil case are steeped in soda. you hold the can over your backpack as it drips all over your belongings. you can’t move it anywhere else.

you want to cry. you think you are about to start crying. everyone’s eyes burn into your skull, and the once warm sun is about to set you on fire. sweat runs down your neck but you cannot wipe it because your left hand holds your backpack and the other holds the stupid cola can that was the cause for all of this.

an angel descends in the form of a white handkerchief.

your once fallen head slightly lifts up. it follows the hand holding it -- its arm. and it connects to the boy in front of you.

“what—…”

you start, but see a couple of girls your age behind him whisper something to one another. your eyes falter. he steps in front of them without saying anything. you look back at him. he is already looking at you.

you take the handkerchief from his hand, and whisper a small, “thanks.”

he nods. you begin to clean your backpack albeit with shaky hands, and then place the cloth on the small puddle of soda formed on the floor. when the bus heaves to a stop, you quickly open the doors and pour all the excess liquid out. you’re sweaty and shaky and probably breathing heavily.

you sigh when the madness ends. you zip your backpack close, and clutch onto the wet handkerchief with sticky hands.

when you turn back towards him he’s already gone. you purse your lips, and put your earbuds back in.

.

.

.

you saw him a couple days later, in the library. he looked close to death and you had an extra can of coffee. after yesterday’s disaster, you never put beverages in your backpack. you had three things to carry, but only two hands.

the answer was obvious. you place it on his table beside his sleeping head, and scurry out the library to avoid any potential confrontation.

you were a bit slow leaving, thinking back. you think you wanted him to stop you.

“hey,” he calls out, “i — uh, think you gave this to the wrong person.”

you turn around. he’s at the top of the staircase, holding the can away from his body like it some sort of disease. your first thought is that he is very tall. you choke a little but pass it off as a cough.

you think he doesn’t recognize you.

he might as well punch you in the face. kick you off the stairs. open the coffee can and throw the liquid all over your cream coloured vest. but the sentence that escapes your face is the epitome of pathetic.

“no, i— uhm, i…. it looked like you needed it.”

he cranes an eyebrow. a heat pools in your stomach and cheeks from embarrassment.

“i…, got an extra one from the vending machine anyway.” you explain, trying to come off normal. it works, you surmise. a ghost of a smirk frames his features and you ponder to yourself: he’s quite pretty like this.

you nod once, with a smile. he doesn’t say another word, but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk all the way down the stairwell.

.

.

.

you had expected that that had closed the chapter between you and the boy (whom you found out at a later date went to the same elementary and junior high school as you). it was a small world you lived in. you would have felt bad for forgetting if it were not for the fact he hadn’t a clue who you were, too.

you wonder how his day was going. you bite the inside of your cheek and shake that thought out of your head and focus on the weekly plan laid in front of you. three meetings, two after school club activities, the cultural festival next month you had to prepare for stare back at you. you can hear them taunt you -- they are all graphite on loose leaf paper but you swear if you listen close enough they are alive and aggravating.

you wanted to die.

“hey—uh,” the class secretary sitting in front of your desk interrupts your internal dilemma, “think someone’s waitin’ for you.”

you crane your head and lift an eyebrow. following his gaze, it falls on the very same boy you had been rocking your brain over.

“oh,” you utter, blankly, “cola boy.”

bidding a small farewell to your classmate you toss your belongings into your now washed and dried backpack and walk towards the strange blonde. he begins to walk out, too, stopping near a window in the hallway. they are empty and filled with light. it would be an intimate setting, if only you two liked each other.

he looks confused. you think back to what you said and grin weakly.

“ah— yeah, sorry, uhm,” you scratch your wrist. his eyes instantly zone in on your hand and you promptly stop and hide both of them behind your back. he stops staring, “you saved my ass and my backpack from the cola— so, i— uh…”

he does not say anything. the hell was wrong with him? he caused this in the first place and expected you to keep going.

“what’s your name?” you give in. you already knew his name from looking at him in the yearbook, but you did not want to be that much of a creep.

“haitani rindou.”

oh. maybe you did not know his name. you could have sworn it was ran.

“l/n y/n.”

you hold out a hand, “thank you for the handkerchief the other day, haitani-san.”

he simply looks at it and pockets his hands resting at his sides in his pockets. you wince a little at his passive aggressiveness, and take back your hand.

“rindou,” he murmurs, “just rindou.”

rindou was quite the enigma. an annoying one at that. you hope you never see him after this.

“and it’s fine. wasn’t a big deal.”

another pause. you cross your arms over your chest to assert dominance. like hell you would continue this exchange. if he wanted to talk to you he would do it himself.

it seems he had understood the gist. he whispers a small, “thanks for the coffee…”

your eyes soften. your heart almost does too at how soft spoken he is. you would not see him after today. this would close the book. a welcoming ending would be a nice thing to leave him with.

“y/n,” you repeat, “just y/n.”

.

.

.

you have a penchant for putting yourself into problems that do not concern you.

you had justified it by being a self proclaimed philanthropist, but you just really enjoyed putting rude men in their places.

“oi,” you grunt at the large man in his early twenties hogging the bus stop bench for the past ten minutes since this elderly woman with a walking crane arrived, “give her your seat or move your bag.”

“hah?”

you roll your eyes at his stupidity. the lady behind you shrinks.

“give her your seat. or move your damn bag,” you utter once more with narrowed eyes, “asshole.”

he gets up with his chest puffed out, like some sort of agitated flamingo. the thought grounds you to hold your position, “what’d ya just call me?”

you glare right back, “ass—hole.”

the man does not back down. you think you are about to be murdered. you sincerely hope the lady you had spoke up for speaks in court on your behalf.

your saviour comes in the form of rindou himself, rather than his handkerchief.

“hey— hey!” he reaches both of you, nudging you to move back from the irritated man. you only halfheartedly acknowledge him, but you do not let your gaze falter.

“the bus is here,” rindou directs his sentence to the man. he was smart, picking up on the fact that you were not going to listen to him.

the man grunts a small “whatever”, before picking up his bag and boarding the bus.

the lady behind you taps your shoulder, you turn and she grins, “thank you dear.”

“have a safe ride home,” you say with a smile, waving her a small goodbye as she goes into the bus. you stay, watching it leave. it was yours but you did not want to be around that man.

“you usually go around calling people bigger than you assholes?”

oh, right. rindou was still here.

“only if they deserve it,” you turn to him, lifting up one finger, “i gave him 10 minutes.”

rindou shakes his head disapprovingly. you form a straight line with your lips. the may sun burns a ring on the top of your head through the glass of the bus stop.

he leans against the bench rather than sitting on it. it is a bit awkward considering how lanky he is, but he still looks cool in his white button down and one shoulder bag. you swear profanities to yourself.

it’s quiet only for another second before he asks,

“you new here?”

you squint your eyes. ouch.

“i’ve been going here for three years,” you adjust your bag and lift your right foot up to scratch your left ankle, “…we were in the same middle school too.”

rindou loses his foothold for a moment, “no shit.”

“s’okay,” you shrug, “didn’t really know who you were till i went through my photo album.”

a breeze passes by. you think about how terrible that sounded.

“i was feeling nostalgic.”

he does not seem convinced. “mhm”. whatever. asshole.

another apprehensive silence. another moment of pondering. you balance on the tips of your toes.

“you were the girl who broke her front tooth with a pencil,” he breaks the quiet again with another outstandingly brazen claim, “sumiko-sensei’s class, right?”

your shoulders deflate. what the hell was wrong with this dude? in your defence — you were in the first grade. it does not make the memory any less humiliating though, and you are certain he brought it up as a prank. he was pulling a prank on you.

“yeah,” your tone is sardonic and you furrow your brow, “thanks.”

you watch rindou’s expression change from genuine curiosity to horrid realisation. serves him right. you await to see how he will redeem himself.

“i, never took the bus,” he starts, “my brother graduated last year and he goes to uni in sendai.”

a pause. his head falls and he looks away, demeaned.

“i don’t know why i’m telling you this.”

you snort at his statement. walking towards the glass of the small bus stop resting area, you lean against it, tucking your hands into the pockets of your skirt. you tried to come off as nonchalant as he was.

“uh-huh,” you begin, “lost your ride, huh?”

he replies with a curt nod. you purse your lips. you tilt your head. you count sheep until 10. you do everything you possibly can to stop from feeling pity for this poor creature whom you had just discovered existed right under your nose for so long.

it obviously does not work.

“well the bus is my second home so you’re in luck — i know all the best sitting spots and shortest routes.”

he looks up, and slightly adjusts his deflated posture.

“that is, if you want my advice,” you add -- hoping he’d change his mind.

he does not.

“sure.”

shit.

.

.

.

you think the universe has bound you and rindou together. or, rather, had cursed him with your presence — he probably did something morally apprehensible in his past life. but you were not one to deny sightings from the almighty so it was really only him reaping the sorrows. the day after riding the bus with him, he had bruised his ankle in gym class and you had period cramps. so you sat across from one another in the respective beds of the nurse’s office, an awkward silence fallen upon both of you.

the first day it was an accident. the second time, a coincidence, by the third, it had become a silently agreed upon rendezvous corner; for you, asking him nonsensical inquiries to which he gave either grunts or small answers. for him, an escape from geometry class and a place to read his magazines in peace.

for both, an understanding.

“okay,” you pop your gum bubble, head lolling over the bed, hair falling downwards in an unruly fashion, “would you rather… have hair for toe nails or toe nails for hair.”

rindou tilts his head, looking up at you from his sports magazine. the curtain between you both is fully parted now. before it had been closed. the next day, half.

“hair for toe nails.”

you blow another bubble, thinking. it pops once more, “…same.”

the door to the nurse’s room opens. both you and rindou peer up like small rabbits. sakura-san enters and her shoulders fall when she spots the two of you.

“what’re you lot doing here again?”

your answers spill out like clockwork.

“cramps.”

“migraine.”

she bites her lip, sighing. you snicker a little when she turns her back and you send a smile towards rindou. his lips twitch, and he lifts his magazine to cover his face.

.

.

.

sakura-san was transferred to another school in the middle of the month. your spot had been compromised. you did not want to stop meeting up with rindou, you don’t know which part of you uncovered that truth. a part of you had always been lonely before he came. though his answers were anything but logical — expected of an 18 year old boy — you enjoyed his presence. that tiny fragment of you hoped he liked yours, too.

even if he didn’t — it’s not as though you would leave him alone. lunch time was an appropriate break time to meet and sakura-san would be proud to know you were not ditching physics anymore.

your school had an abandoned observatory that you didn't know existed until you followed rindou there one day. he was a psychopath who ate his lunch (which was either a carton of milk or a bag of chips) on its dusty floor in complete darkness.

you brought a broom, a picnic blanket, your hands, and an extra bento box to make him agree to let you in his secret place. he was like a cat.

“something is in the air today,” you mumble through a mouthful of rice. rindou pauses, his pork cutlet is squished between a pair of chopsticks, hovering close to his mouth.

“is there?”

“yes,” you swallow and burp, earning a small grunt from him, “something to explain why you’re so inoperable today.”

“learnt that word from a dictionary, did you?” he asks through a mouthful of pork cutlet. you nudge his shoulder at his gross behaviour but he just opens his mouth wider to show you his chewed food. you roll your eyes and ignore him as a form of retaliation.

a stillness follows shortly after. you've grown accustomed to the small pauses rindou would take in between conversation. you think if it was anyone other than you they would have grown annoyed by now. you liked that he put thought into every word he'd say, though. very few people did that, yourself included.

“there might be something wrong with the air in sendai.”

ah, brother problems.

setting your bento box down, you slightly adjust your cross-legged frame toward him.

“can i be honest?”

he sighs, taking a bite of his pork before answering with a sip of water.

“if it can’t be helped…”

you look at the blanket, trace the patterns of the embroidered flowers stitched into its fabric. you huff, “before i knew your name, i thought you were ran."

the look rindou gives you cannot be described. your face heats up.

“look! look! i looked you up in the yearbook — you have the same last name and you didn’t start wearin’ glasses seriously till this year! i think my brain synapses didn't connect that day and somehow mixed up your guys' names...”

rindou nods, agreeing with your last statement no doubt. you snatch a pickle from his bento and he smirks at your brattish behaviour.

“you know, my grandmother had 8 siblings. 9 , including herself,” you add through a mouthful of rice and vegetable.

“geez.”

“you should get some advice from her.”

“is this your way of inviting me over to your house?”

“yup.” you state, popping out the ‘p’, “my food tastes way better fresh.”

when you look towards rindou, you are surprised to find a smile on his lips. it is the type of grin one has when they see a dog roll over, or, perhaps watch someone ungracefully fall like in those commercialized home videos. but it is the first time you have ever had the pleasure of seeing him like this — content.

when he snags a cutlet out of your bento, you merely nudge him and shake your head — a smile like his own gracing your features too.

stomach full, heart bursting.

.

.

.

you were graduating next month. he hadn’t left, yet. you hadn’t either. seasons changed, he grew an inch taller, you got a part time job at a small bakery. you were changing but remained each other’s constants. it was nice having that, which is why you think both of you stuck around in the first place.

that, and you would have no one to drawl on and on about your day to.

“do you think i’m a quiet person?”

you lay on your back on your round faux fur carpet. he sits on your bed, doing his assignment on your laptop. his half empty beer can rests on your bedside table. yours, next to your laid body. your grandmother was a very commendable lady and allowed it.

he pauses whatever he was typing to look at you and you pause your game of tetris on your nintendo ds. your nose twitches.

“not at all.”

you put your ds down and look up at the ceiling.

“no— but, like, if you didn’t know me would you think that i’d be considered a pretty shy person?”

rindou exhales, “maybe.”

you sit up instantly, resting on your elbows. sensing your presence he cranes an eyebrow.

“the hell.” you narrow your eyes.

“what?” he asks.

“seriously?”

he rubs his temples, “what??”

you sigh, “what exactly about me is it that people just assume i’m pathetic and need their help,” and kick the plushy resting at your sock-clad feet.

perhaps it is your dazed mind which makes it so easy to spill your feelings about to rindou. or maybe it's just him. you think it has always been the latter, your just were waiting for the right time.

“the other day my coworker asked me if i've done any school presentations. like, you know, ever spoke in front of the class. just — so randomly," your face is doused in uncertainty but you continue, “and i was — like — obviously, confused. so i didn’t answer right away and i think he thought that was an alternative to no.”

rindou shuts his laptop. you lay back down and bite your lip, grabbing your plushy from your feet to hug against your chest. you feel conscious and a bit scared knowing you have his full attention now, but it also feels exhilarating.

“so, like, then he went on a rant about how he knows i don’t talk. like — ‘i only talk to people i know — and while sometimes being quiet is good i should try building a network or something before i start uni’ — ‘cause like, i don’t know — i’m inept and have zero social cues apparently?”

a pause. then a noise.

“oh."

you bury your face in your stuffed rabbit toy, “yeah.”

“like— i’m the class president. i’m the one who leads the group in a project," you carry on, playing with its ears, “he doesn’t even know me and he went on an entire biblical chapter of all the highs and lows of being me.”

you feel the shuffling of your sheets. you perk your head up and your eyes widen as you watch rindou come down and sit near your feet. you hastily get up, tugging at the hem of your shorts and sitting across from him.

“he was so... definitive about it, too. pissed me off.”

your carpet was small, your knees were touching one another's. he wasn't moving, so you grunt a little and trudge forward. you grow suddenly self aware of his stare, his eyes studying your face. you smile warily at the thought.

“i’ve heard that shit all before. my dad swears he has me figured out -- mailed me hazelnut chocolate for my birthday last year and a postcard from hong kong with a picture of his happy new family," you force a laugh. the joke was that you were allergic to hazelnuts.

rindou's response comes quickly, as though he had been wanting to say it all this time.

“he sounds like a grade-a asshole.”

you can't help but snort and meet his gaze, and smile a little at his statement. the early afternoon winter sunlight bathes your room, it feels like the summer you met him. it’s the same boy — but again — he’s not. like a book you’ve read before many a time, but just uncovered a new heart attacking clause.

“i know you,” he murmurs, a little too closely. you lift your head and find him looking at you. it’s so quiet, you can hear your breathes intertwine.

the intimacy is too much — so he douses it in water.

“you’re not quiet. you’re loud and annoying as shit.”

you roll your eyes, “gee, thanks.”

you play with the top of your beer can resting in between your legs. you take it and switch to sitting on your knees instead, legs tucked away to the side. you take a swig.

“i never knew my dad.”

lowering the can from your lips, you look at rindou. he’s not staring at you anymore, but at your hands. you feel your ribcage squeeze your lungs.

“i’d always wondered why he’d left but gave up,” he looks up once more, face solemn and true, “wasn’t worth the time.”

“fuck them.” he murmurs so gently to you. he leans in a little closer, his slender fingers brushing against yours on the carpet. your ceiling fan is loud but you swear you can hear your heartbeat travel to your head.

“fuck them.”

you blame the beer for the sudden flush that overcomes you. you smile from eye to eye, staring at his larger hand so close to your own.

“yeah…” you manage to whisper, “fuck them.” you repeat the mantra and look into his eyes. they’re so beautiful and have so many things to tell that he won’t say. you think today you’ve uncovered one of them.

he knows you. you know him.

.

.

.

rindou is gentle when he wants to be. he hasn’t told you that directly per-say, but it is highly implied in everything he does. he chooses to ride the bus with you now, even after graduation, even during your gap years and job searching. you haven't moved out of your grandmother's house, but his brother has out of theirs. you spend most of your time there than at your own home.

you think he likes you. he’s been letting you in for a while, now.

“i wanna get a tattoo,” you bring up sitting on his couch, head hanging off the edge of the arm, legs laid out on the body. it's a warm spring day. you've left quite a few of your trinkets around his apartment, like a wild animal littering their territory with their belongings.

he speaks up from the recliner you bought him as a housewarming gift, “where?”

you sit up, bringing your legs to your chest and mindlessly scratching your bare leg.

“my ribcage,” you decide after thinking for a while, “wanna…. get a string of bellflowers.”

rindou sets his phone down.

“i have one.”

you lift your head up, "no way", smiling erratically at the notion of rindou having some sort of delicate floral tattoo at his wrist or ankle.

but when he stands up, walks towards your place on the couch and begins to take his shirt off, all of the blood in your body travels to your head.

“what— what’re you—,” you look away, cheeks hurting. you thought he'd stop but when you feel a shirt get thrown next to you on the empty space, you can't help but look back at him.

“oh,” you blink, “oh— oh.”

the entire right side of his chest and back is coloured in an alluring midnight coloured design. it's intricate and you can't quite put a hand on what it is, or what it even means.

but the way he sits on his knees in front of you sets your heart ablaze.

“what the hell…” your murmur, setting both your legs in between his frame, “how the fuck did you not get caught by tenma sensei?”

rindou smirks a little, “was always the last one in the changing rooms.”

you grin at his rascality. thinking of him having this in highschool makes you think of who he was before you. how he was before you. you bring your hand forward, it hovers against his skin. you look him in the eye for a moment, silently asking. he answers by leaning forward for his chest to touch your hand.

“it’s really pretty, rindou,” you whisper, tracing the colouring, “really pretty.”

he's so close. you're so close. you can feel his breath on your forehead. he's so tall that his face meets yours when he's kneeling and you're sitting. your smile grows larger, staring intently at the tattoo.

��did it hurt?”

he does not answer. you gaze at him again.

“what?”

“i wanna kiss you.”

he says it so easily, it takes you aback. you shrink, leaning back. he only leans forward.

“shut up,” you whine, embarrassed, “i hate bein’ treated like a kid.”

“i know,” he places his elbow on the couch's rest arm, encompassing your entire vision, from every angle, “but i wanna kiss you.”

you can't look at him. your hands fumble together, covered in the sleeves of his sweatshirt he gave you and never took back.

“i talk in my sleep,” you say, “i’m unorganised and don’t finish the things i start.”

“i know,” he responds, only coming in more, “i know.”

“this’ll be hard.” you mutter, finally meeting eye to eye. the sight of him so tender and sweet and whispering sweetly and patiently to you makes your mind soar in the clouds.

“fuck, i know,” he murmurs back. he lifts a hand, tentatively looking at you. you nod, and he places it on your cheek. it's so big and warm -- his thumb brushes your cheekbone and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“can i kiss you now?”

you can't do anything but nod. his lips aren't sweet. they are not particularly the softest on the planet but it is so lovely. 3:26pm on a sunday and you are kissing the boy you met nearly a year ago, wearing his shirt. he is kissing you back and you can sense him smile. you smile back.

when you pull away you can't help but tease him.

“didn’t think you were the type to beg.”

“i’ll kill you.” he states, with expression between lovestruck and annoyed. you giggle and place a kiss on his nose. he takes the opportunity to tackle you into the couch and smother your neck with his own. you squeal, but he only laughs.

hand in his, heart in your chest beating against his -- the boy from the bus.

#rindou haitani x reader #rindou x reader #rindou x fem reader #writing

[anon-e-miss]

Intransigence, 11

“Do ya know where Tumbler ended up?” Jazz asked. Prowl shook his helm, taking a moment to compose himself. Though in a way, that dark-cycle had played over in his helm frequently in the last three vorns, he had not consciously thought about it in quite some time and, of course, he had never spoken of it.

“No,” Prowl replied. It was not a lie. “It would infuriate him to know I do not think of him, so I do my best not to. Whether you might call it spite, or the revenge of living well, both suit me well enough.”

“Ya probably know ‘bout the tradition o’ takin’ a new designation after finishin’ wit the Institute,” Jazz said.

“I do.”

“Tumbler goes by Chromedome now,” Jazz explained. Before Prowl could tell him how little he cared, even as his plating crawled, the Autobot continued. “He’s been an enlisted member o’ the Autobots for a couple vorns now. He’s on staff in this base.”

“That...” Prowl said, narrowing his optics and setting his jaw. “Is... irritating news.”

“Irritatin’?” Jazz asked. He was looking at Prowl with his helm cocked slightly, studying him. What was he looking for? Cracks? Prowl did not break so easily.”

“Perhaps infuriating is a better glyph,” Prowl declared. “He has never faced a single meaningful consequence for his professional and personal misconducts. It must only reinforce his superiority complex.”

“I hope ya understand, I gotta tell Ratchet ‘bout what he did,” Jazz said. Prowl sighed.

“I do,” he replied. “He is a threat. When he was made to resign, Tumbler was already in the throws of an addiction to his needles. Using them on that suspect was a compulsive act. I do not believe it was the first such act or the last.”

“Ratchet’s got yer treatment room on the highest security level,” Jazz assured Prowl. “Ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout Chromedome or Garboil. Y’re safe.”

“Chromedome does not worry me on a personal level,” Prowl replied. “His existence angers me, I will not deny that. I do not believe I am of any significance to him at this stage.”

“Are ya sure ‘bout that?” Jazz asked. Prowl frowned, only then realizing how his spark was racing. He looked over to the monitor that displayed his spark pulse for all to see.

“Fear is not rational,” Prowl replied.

“It don’t gotta be,” Jazz replied, he took Prowl’s servo and squeezed it, “to be right.”

“I am more worried how Smokescreen will handle the revelation,” Prowl said. Pride would have called for Prowl to pull his servo away but he did not. Instead, he held Jazz’s servo and let himself be comforted.

“That’s fair,” Jazz replied. “Yer bitlet’s pretty protective o’ his ori.”

“They insisted he call me originator,” Prowl said, staring at the ceiling. “He was just a bitlet and they expected him to pronounce a five syllable glyph when he wanted to address me. It was a victory when he called me ori for the first time, quartexes after we escaped.”

“Why didn’t ya e’er introduce ‘m to Tumbler?” Jazz asked. “Or any lover?”

“I never trusted any lover enough to let them near him,” Prowl replied. “He was, he is so precious to me. His grandprogenitor sought custody when he was small. They lost, of course but the fact they would bring a suit in Iacon, I realized I was not out of their reach. You have to understand Jazz, they are obscenely wealthy. I never knew if they were watching. If they found someone was close to me, to us, they could bribe that mechanism with enough shanix to purchase a private island without their fortune moving a decimal.”

“They ain’t reached out since he’s grown?” Jazz asked.

“Not that I know of,” Prowl said. “He hates them on my behalf, so if they did, it is possible he would have very rudely rejected their overtures.”

“Ya raised a good mechlin’,” Jazz replied. “A loyal one. I’ll keep an optic on ‘m. Make sure he don’t do anythin’ stupid when it gets out.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said.

Though Jazz surely had better places to be, he stayed with Prowl, making idle conversation as they waited for Ratchet to return. Normally, Prowl was not fond of, or adept at, small talk but Jazz was companionable and it was easy to talk with him. It was a good character trait in a spy. He did not pry, not really and Prowl found himself telling him about his and Smokescreen’s first vorns in Iacon. Prowl had home-schooled Smokescreen until he was sure there was no risk of him walking off with a smooth-talking stranger that might be sent by Crosscut or Bishop. They had lived in a single room habsuite as the telecommuting jobs he had worked had not paid enough for more than that. Only after Smokescreen had enrolled in conventional schooling had Prowl taken a job with Iacon’s enforcers, after his application to the Autobots had been denied. Starting from the bottom again had been irritating but Prowl had persevered. He was too stubborn to do anything else.

“Jazz?” Ratchet asked as he entered. “Is he giving you a hard time, Prowl?”

“No,” Prowl replied. “Jazz is being... moral support. I need to tell you who attacked me back then.”

“Thank you,” Ratchet said. “I don’t want what happened to you to happen to anyone else under my roof.”

“He was called Tumbler then, but he is called Chromedome now,” Prowl explained.

“You’re his psycho ex?” Ratchet asked.

“I am not psychotic,” Prowl growled.

“Easy,” Jazz soothed. “Not what he meant.”

“Jazz is right,” Ratchet replied. “He tells stories. You star in a lot of them.”

“Damn him,” Prowl cursed.

“Mnemosurgery needles are unique to their users,” Ratchet revealed. “I’m going to take thorough measurements of your scars to back up your accusation. I don’t want his suspension to get turned over on appeal.”

The scans were not terribly intrusive. Jazz kept Prowl distracted from any intrusive thoughts by telling him his own stories. He had been raised by a single-originator, with his twin, and there was no one he respected, no one he looked up to more than Punch. Like Prowl had with Smokescreen, Punch had taken his creations to Iacon to escape a terrible situation. There were interesting parallels between Jazz’s sparklinghood and Smokescreen’s and perhaps that was part of what helped Smokescreen trust his commander. It helped Prowl better trust Jazz as well. As Ratchet continued with his measurements, Prowl’s helm drooped. With his frame still healing, he found he had no stamina and he was exhausted despite not having moved at all in the joors since he had woken.

“Rest yer helm on my shoulder,” Jazz offered. Tiredly, Prowl let his helm fall. His optics dimmed and Prowl drifted down into recharge.

#maccadams #valveplug #tf jazz #tf prowl #chromedome is an ass #but you knew that #anon-e-miss writes #intransigence