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#I just feel like I’ve learned a lot this year but at the same time I feel like I know nothing
pigeonpeach · 1 day
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My Heart Calls Your Name
Nilou x gn eremite reader part 3
Summary: The week had gone by faster than expected. Now you must depart back to the desert. Although you had spent years in the desert, it doesn’t feel the same
Little warning for alcohol
“Well I was wrong.” Clear Water proudly proclaimed seeing you walking towards her and the rest of the tribe. They turned mildly surprised but hid it quickly. “So. How was your vacation? Just what you needed?” Clear water asked. You nodded.
“It was nice. I’ve learned alot culinary wise.” You said with a smile.
“So you didn’t spend time with that dancer lady?” Your matriarch teased. “Say wheres your mask at?” You searched your bags finding it missing. You must’ve left it with Nilou..
“Oh crap.” You sighed. ClearWater sighed.
“We have extra, here.” Pulling it from one of the bags. You dawned it on, obscuring your vision slightly but still able to see. There was something in your heart. Like a flower stuck in a tiny pot, eager to grow beyond the clay walls. But you knew it was for the best. You would get over it someday.
“You didn’t answer my question little chef, what did you do while you were gone?” The Matriach asked once more.
“Ah, well I helped her theatre group and tried some foods. I have new recipes to try now so I say it was nice.” You answered. She noticed your hesitation.
“You’re okay right?” She asked shooing the rest. They left to probably recount supplies and feed the sumpter beast. But Clear Water still glanced at you occasionally.
“W-why wouldn’t I be?” You asked confused.
“Well You seem disappointed. Like you wanted to stay there.” She answered. You gulped.
“I mostly miss getting to sleep on a mattress mostly.” You dismissed. She seemed unconvinced.
“Hopefully you didn’t soften too much. Its good to see you again.” She patted you on the shoulder, sending you off to held load the sumpter beast’s cargo. Now alone with your thoughts you couldn’t help but feel like every step and movement was harder. The Ribat is familiar, you’ve come here more times than you could count on both hands and toes. This job is what you’ve held for years now with no other change until now. But something felt disheartening to know you may never see Nilou again, her theatre team, the various dads you befriended who were equally enthusiastic with cooking as you. You felt the unrealistic desire to run right back to the city and look for Nilou, profess your love and let that determine your destiny. But its too late now.
“Hey!” Clearwater said catching your attention.
“Oh sorry.” You said facing her.
“Its fine, I was just asking you what the deal with that dancer lady is.” She sighed carrying a bundle of peppers and radishes. You felt confused, your tribe hardly ever brought vegetables. “Oh and I wanted to show you some veggies we got. I figured you must’ve been tired of the meats so I wanted to give you some variety.” You nodded.
“Thanks. And her name is Nilou.”
“Nilou. Oh yeah you told me about her, you spent alot of time with her didn’t you?” She asked casually, adjusting the straps on the Beast. You focused your attentions on scratching behind its head to help it relax, it grumbled in thanks as it leaned closer, giving Clear Water a better chance to reach the one open flap that bothered her.
“Yeah. She was great. She was friends with so many people. Everywhere we went she’d get like discounts and freebies because she knew the owners. Even got me a nice inn room for a reduced price.” You smiled. “I got to try lots of other foods too. Padisarah Pudding was my favorite. Unfortunately those ingredients are harder for us to get and maintain so I won’t be able to cook it.”
“Sounds tasty. What was she like?”
“Lovely.. i-i mean her dancing was lovely. I helped her theatre group and had dinner with them lots, they were all so welcoming and nice. Nilou made sure I never overworked myself though. She even taught me to dance.” You smiled reminiscing.
“Really? So I’m guessing it didn’t work out?” She asked. You paused looking at her directly. You thought about denying it, but at this rate you knew it was true. It seemed like everyone knew anyways, there was no use in denying it.
“I- uh… never told her. I just… didn’t have the courage.” You said quietly. The sumpter beast grumbled wanting more scratches to which you obliged.
“You should’ve. You need too actually.” She said quieter as well. She picked up more bags to slide on-top of the beasts.
“Well I can’t anymore. She couldn’t come to see me off so unless I want to delay our leave I can’t tell her now.” You said.
“Send a letter. If you never tell her then you’ll always be wishing for her. At least if she rejects you then you’ll feel better about your decision here.” She said. She had a point. That idea seemed interesting actually.
“You know.. I’ll do that. Do you have a paper?” You asked. She smiled pulling out some.
“How do you do it?” You asked curiously. Nilou looked up. At you. She was adjusting the straps on her legs when she seemed to get a idea. You met up with her early, maybe too early. There’s no one else in the Theatre here yet, and few people in the area altogether.
“Ooh do you want to learn to dance?” She asked.
“Well maybe not completely.. I’m just a little curious” your posture stiffened.
“Well I could show you.” She smiled, by now you knew she was eager to do so. “I sometimes give lessons to kids, so I assure you I’ll be a good teacher.” You sighed.
“Alright.” You said. Steeping out onto the empty stage. All props were in storage currently. There was minimal people out now, they were more focused on setting their stalls up. You took a deep breath getting closer.
“Alright, lets start with some stretching exercises.” She said. “First lets touch our toes, you don’t have to reach it, just bend down and do your best.” Her voice was encouraging, you felt a little embarrassed in this position, but she was doing it with you, so you felt less silly. It felt strenuous but nice to stretch our your hamstrings. “Then you’re going to cross your arms like this.” She demonstrated by crossed her left arm across her body, pointed straight in the other way, her other harm pressed it closer to her chest. You followed, feeling the stretch, swapping hands as she did. “Alright lets start with something easy.”
Dancing with Nilou felt so natural. You watched her carefully and tried to mimic every step and even bend in her limbs, every turn and even her relaxed but neutral expression.
“You know, your friend isn’t too bad actually.” A sudden voice interrupted, causing you to seize up and almost fall if Nilou hadn’t caught your arm in time. It was just a friend of hers, the costumer for the theatre group.
“I know right. I feel like if we just changed their wardrobe they’d be perfect.” She smiled. You immediately stiffened.
“Eh its not worth it. I’m not that good too perform.” You immediately dismissed. They chuckled.
“Practice makes perfect. Enough time and you might become more admired than miss Nilou.” She teased. You felt a bit saddened.
“Oh well.. I don’t really have that time. I’m only on vacation after all.” You corrected. She seemed a bit embarrassed at that correction.
“Oh right, sorry I forgot. You just fit in so well I forgot you would be leaving soon.” She said. “Oh could you two help carry the costume rack up here? I can’t do it alone.”
“I’ll do it, you can keep practicing Nilou.” You said. Heading down the stairs to the costume rack. Nilou watched from afar. Her smile faded once your gaze was elsewhere.
“You’ve really gotten attached haven’t you?” The woman whispered to her. She nodded.
“I can’t help it. Keep it secret though, I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.” Nilou whispered. While you focused on steadying the rack with another member who came over.
“Tonight was our most successful performance yet!” The manager declared. The troupe applauded and cheered as they had stopped mid wrap up to enjoy the news. You meanwhile observed them, smiling as you were holding the ladder for someone currently. “This calls for celebration! Once we’re done here I’ll cover anyone’s tab at the tavern, just don’t go too crazy.” You felt intrigued. You hadn’t had any liquor or anything since your vacation started. Now might be a nice time to enjoy it. You also were curious to see what Nilou was like drunk.
“Sounds great!”
“Well lets get to work then!” Chatter began as people congratulated each other, Nilou mingling somewhere in the crowd while you helped the lady down.
“You’ve been a good help here. You should visit whenever you get the chance.” She smiled. “Of course if you ever want to retire from your current job then we’d be happy to welcome you aboard!” You were surprised at that. Slightly tempted to.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said. After helping her package things up you walked over to Nilou who seemed ecstatic. She had a bunch of flowers in her hands. Bouquets from fans and friends likely.
“Thank you so much for your help. I really can’t thank you enough. You’re heading to the tavern right? Maybe we could go together I hear the foods great I’ll even pay for dinner as thabks-“ she cut herself off as she blushed embarrassed. “Ah sorry! I didn’t mean to say that all so fast. I’d just been rehearsing it in my head for so long.” She sheepishly admitted as she slowed her breath. You felt confused but intrigued.
“I wouldn’t mind that no. How soon will you be heading there?” You asked.
“Soon, i just gotta give these flowers to everyone. Oh heres yours! A gift of gratitude!” She smiled as you took the bouquet. This was the first bouquet you had gotten ever. Genuinely you had never received flowers beforehand. You paused admiring the flowers as she anxiously analyzed your expression. You were lost in thought as you felt your heart swell even more than possible. You never felt this appreciated, this welcomed and this loved. You couldn’t stop the big smile on your face.
“Thank you.. so much Nilou. I-i really an glad I came here.” You stammered. Your reaction calmed her slightly.
“Your welcome. Oh I really should give the others their flowers, then we can head out!” She excitedly said, dashing off. You heard a chuckle from behind. You turned to see the costumer.
“You know, she doesn’t do this normally right?” She asked.
“She doesn’t?” You asked confused. She nodded in confirmation. “Then why would she?”
“Well she probably wanted a excuse to give you a bouquet. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She smiled cheekily as she walked away. You watched Nilou handing out the bouquets, the reactions were indeed a mix of surprise but confusion. This was indeed out of the normal. The idea that she went this far to give you this made you blush. You wished you had your mask on now to hide it.
That night at the tavern had been eventful. You had struggled to hear Nilou properly as she had a softer voice.
“This place is really noisy huh?” She said nervously.
“Do you not come here often?” You asked. “Taverns are always noisy at nights like this.”
“I figured. I guess you’re used to this kind of environment.” She played with her hair, you wondered if she was blushing or if it was just the early signs of drunkenness coming in.
“Definitely. Hopefully a fight doesn’t break out. That’s when things really get loud.” You commented. Another round of wine was passed to your table, the other adults chatting amongst themselves. You noticed none of them tried to chat with Nilou, you wondered if for a second they’d plan that so she could spend time with you. You also noticed nilou tried to mimic your pace at drinking. You really enjoyed the cocktail you had ordered. The sweetness of sunsettias and bitterness of wine was addictive. You felt more at ease. “You know this one time, this couple of eremite dudes got in a huge fight. Well we thought they were fighting, turns out it was a really weird make out session. I guess they were so drunk they forgot about basic decency. Anyways found out later that the other proposed that night. Think they’re still together.” Nilou seemed interested in that story, or she was just staring at your face.
“That’s wild. Do eremites fight alot when drunk?” She asked, her voice a little slurred. You smiled, the tensuon in your body had faded at this point.
“Certainly. We fight for fun sometimes when sober, but that’s like coordinated and not as extreme. You know it has rules like no making the other bleed and no weapons and such. Its just to help the two get stronger. But when they’re drunk its a problem. Friendly spars turn into vicious fights. Its not uncommon for eremites to get banned actually. We have to limit ourselves usually or the bartender may have us kicked out at the first sign of rowdy behavior.” You giggled.
“Wow. I rarely see fights here. Sometimes you see students getting into quarrels but that’s hardly entertaining.”
“Figured, its just a bunch of nerds arguing over formulas I bet.” You chuckled, she laughed along.
“Probably. Have you ever been hit on at a tavern before?” She asked. Even in your relaxed, not too drunk but still inebriated state did you feel surprised.
“Eh not much.” You shrugged. She seemed surprised.
“Really?! But you’re so pretty!” She said, her hands suddenly reaching out to hold your face. You felt your heart jump as she looked right into your eyes. You had never been called pretty before. “Or handsome..or beautiful.. you’re just attractive is what i mean! Like your eyes are so striking, it feels like a crime that you wear a mask to hide them!” She was definitely drunk now. But you knew drunk people were reflections of people’s true feelings and thoughts. That fact only made you even more flushed.
“Y-you think so? No one has ever called me that.” You responded, still not pushing her off of you. You wouldn’t let her go further than that. You weren’t a one night stand kind of person.
“Really? What is wrong with the people you’ve met!” She giggled, moving her hands she scooted closer to you and laid her head on your shoulder. “You’re perfect to me.”
“You think so?” You asked. If you were a dog your tail would be wagging, like a feral wolf that just learned how wonderful it felt to be petted and praised. Its like she was domesticating you, if you were sober you would fear getting too used to her sweet and affectionate personality, but you hardly could even remember what number your refill was at.
“I know so. You have such big muscles! Such a gentle temperament and not to mention how patient and hardworking you are.” She giggled. “Its not just the wine talking too, though I’m sure if it could talk it would agree with me.” You laughed at that joke.
The night had continued with laughter and random face touches and muscles squeezing from Nilou, your hands kept to yourself until you had to walk her home.
“You know the way back to your house right?” You asked, your hand supporting her by her waist as her hand was slung over your shoulders. You noticed a sudden boost of confidence in her eyes.
“Can I sleep at your place? I don’t want you to have to walk home alone afterwards.” She said. “Since you’re drunk too.. i don’t want anyone takin ‘vantage of you.”
“I only have one bed though.” You didn’t really mind, you were just nervous about things progressing from there. You weren’t ready for that and nor did you want it to be while drunk.
“Its okay I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” She smiled. You obliged eventually.
The door swung open as you now carried her, she had been too drunk to make it up the stairs. Holding her bridal style, you carried her to the bed. She giggle while playing with your hair.
“Its sooo soft.. i can’t believe it! How do you keep it so silky and smooth!” She said.
“Just some good ol oils and brushing.” You laid her down, tucking her in as you collected a few pillows and started to make a makeshift bed on the floor, dragging out your sleeping bag from your job and laying it out. “Alright now get to sleep. I’m sure you’ll be plenty of busy tomorrow-WOAH!” You were yanked into bed by a surprising strength coming from the drunken Nilou. The bed was small so she practically climbed ontop of you, laying her head on your chest as she smiled.
“Night night.” And like that she was out. Your face was all red for sure. But you couldn’t help but enjoy it slightly. You weren’t sure why Nilou was so touchy and affectionate. Love seemed like the obvious but least likely in your mind. Deep down, drunk or not, you found it hard to believe someone could love you. But her hands around you, gradually shifting to spooning, her holding you… you let yourself enjoy it knowing it’d likely be the last time you would feel this way.
That night you slept better than any drunken sleeps before.
The night in the desert felt different now. You were on guard as you watched the horizon and distance carefully. Nothing but foxes looking for lizards too hunt. You remembered suddenly how it felt to be held, to be the little spoon. How it felt to be loved and to love. You doubted she’d ever write back. You doubted you could ever show your face now that the letter was sent. You felt your chest tighten. A undoubtable longing inside for her. Your heart called her name, your exposed and scarred skin longed to be held and touched by her, your ears craved to hear her voice, and your eyes wished to see her smile once more. You were in love, how horrible. The sand felt like shards of metal now, the once familiar terrain seemed so bland and empty. But there was comfort in it, the familiarity of it. You wondered how soon you could return to the Ribat, and if you could catch sight of her once more…
But that letter.. you knew in your heart if you she reciprocated then… then what? Would you give up your life you had lived all these years, that you had been so accustomed to and raised for, all for her? Would it be worth it in the end? Would it be a mistake or the best decision in your life?
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soy lago
masterlist
lando x carlos (carlando) (2.6k words)
summary: since carlos left for ferrari, lando has spent the last four seasons trying to move on. but then the world learns that carlos might end up anywhere next year, and lando dares to let himself hope...and puts some of those hopes down on paper.
warnings: plenty of ✨angst✨
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soy lago
Sweaty, exhausted, and covered in stubborn pieces of green and yellow crepe clinging to the sticky champagne on his race suit, Lando does his very best to stand up straight, holding his P3 trophy with stiff arms. He doesn’t smile; it’s hard enough as it is remaining upright. Then he feels an arm around him. He knows its owner is clad in red—although once upon a time, he wore papaya orange. And the feeling of that arm is what lets him scrape together the will to put on some semblance of a smile as the cameras flash, capturing Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Lando Norris in their podium photograph of the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.
Dear Carlos,
I’ve always been rubbish with words—hell, I showed a million people on Youtube that it took me three tries to spell “heights”, in English, no less. So it shouldn’t surprise you that, when they told me I needed to go on camera and speak Italian, I downloaded Duolingo and didn’t open another app for a week straight. Never mind that it was one single sentence. I could not mess this up.
Ai nostri amici della Scuderia Ferrari ed ai loro tifosi.
I could say it in my sleep.
And yet, when the camera started staring into my soul, I still managed to fuck it up. On the very first word. They asked me later, you know, if I wanted them to edit it out…but when I watched it again it seemed right somehow. Because the truth is, they could’ve asked me to say “to our friends at Scuderia Ferrari and the famous tifosi” in plain English, and it still would have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. So I figured it’d at least be honest.
When I joined F1 my rookie season, you had already raced for four. Two other teams. McLaren was not your whole past. At Melbourne, the season opener, I already knew by the way your eyes sparkled so hungrily talking to the press, that it would not be your future either. But for me, it was all I had, my precarious shot at making it in F1. I had something to prove.
So why was I so nervous when they stuck a camera in front of us to play that stupid game of ‘Would You Rather’? I can’t even rewatch that video now, because I already know I’ll cringe seeing myself slowly dismantling the sole of my shoe with my fingernails, hardly even able to make eye contact with you. You had a reputation of charming every teammate you got with—I won’t pretend like I didn’t scour the internet for every video you filmed with Max with Toro Rosso. You made Max Verstappen giggle like a little girl on video. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to me.
But at the Chinese GP, after Kvyat crashed me out, you came up to me in the paddock. “Wanna go on a walk?” you asked. As if you’d seen me crying in the garage. There was a little lake, a pond really, near the track, and I don’t know how many laps we must have taken around it. What I do know is that you pointed to the water, told me that in Spanish, it’s called “el lago”. And that you stopped me from feeling like I didn’t belong, didn’t deserve to be in F1.
I had a lot of retirements that first season. And after each one, I knew I’d hear your voice, or see a text on my phone, or once, a little paper airplane in my driver’s room. Every time, the words were the same. And every time, I wanted it more. I just didn’t want to admit to myself that at some point, it became less about debriefing the race failures and more about the person I had an excuse to see off the track. Away from the cameras. Away from everybody else.
On the flight back to London, Lando scrolls through headline after headline, all pondering the next move for the triumphant Spaniard. Red Bull, Red Bull, Mercedes, Red Bull, Kick Sauber—Lando chuckles at that one—Red Bull, McLaren, Mercedes, Red Bull…
The speculation about McLaren is clearly a joke. And yet, it makes Lando’s breath catch in his throat…fuck, if Max Verstappen can DNF on Lap 2, give Ferrari a 1-2 podium with Lando in 3rd after the team told Oscar to give it up for him…clearly, crazier things have happened in F1.
The pandemic hurt, a lot. It’s all a blur now, logging onto my computer day after day, gaming with George and Alex and Charles to pass the time, refreshing Instagram in case you posted a story from Madrid. Until one day, the first day of May, the phone rang. You told me you were in Woking, that you were going to be at the MTC but you’d explain later. And then, those five magical words.
“Wanna go on a walk?”
Maybe we were all a little crazy during lockdown. Let’s just call it that. How else do you explain the fact that I spent twenty minutes picking a pair of jeans after spending four months in sweatpants, another twenty picking a shirt that wasn’t bright orange? What excuse do I have for dumping every beanie I owned onto my bed, cursing myself for shaving my hair off, even if it was to raise money for COVID? It was a miracle I made it to the MTC at all.
You were already outside by the time I skidded into the parking lot. The sun was low in the sky, not quite setting, turning the lake lavender, cotton candy, papaya. You faced the lake, just a dark silhouette against the colors. Suddenly, it felt hard to breathe. I just knew you were going to say something…big. I wanted to tell you so many things, how I’d been counting down the days until lockdown would be over, how not a day went by that I didn’t wonder what you were doing, how you had become someone that I could never be close enough to. You made me greedy.
I knew something was wrong when you saw me and smiled. It was happy…but not the smile I knew. This smile was tainted, as if someone had poured a single drop of vinegar into a glass of milk, and you could taste it starting to curdle just a bit.
“Lando,” you said. Another red flag. Normally, you drew out the “o” in my name in a tantalizing singsong. “My muppet friend, I have something to tell you. Something exciting.”
I wished time would stop right then. I didn’t want to hear what exciting thing you had to tell me. But no amount of wishing could stop what came next.
“Ferrari. They offered me a contract. Two years in their fastest car…I cannot believe it, my muppet friend. I will race for them in 2021.”
The sun hadn’t set yet, but there were stars in your eyes. Stars that I had seen since your—our—very first race with McLaren. Carlos Sainz, destined for champions, for greatness. There would not be room for slow cars, midfield teams; there would not be room for Lando Norris. And I knew this from day one. So why, looking at the stars that filled your eyes, did mine start to fill with tears?
I smiled in the hopes you’d think I was simply overcome with happiness on your behalf. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” you asked.
I had wanted so badly to find the words that would’ve made your journey all the way from Spain to see me worth it. But even if I had them, all of those words were useless now. And in the moment, I could only think of one thing.
“Soy lago,” I said. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I am lake?” you laughed. “Your Spanish has always been terrible.”
Then I told you that my tears could fill the very lake we were looking at. Watched the realization dawn on your face. Heard you call after me as I ran back to my car, so you wouldn’t have to see any more of those tears.
In his room in the MTC, Lando sits, clicking his pen compulsively. Balls of crumpled-up paper surround him, ghosts of past attempts at penning a letter worthy of its reader. He curses his messy penmanship, curses his inability to spell anything remotely non-phonetic correctly. He resorts to writing in pencil, then painstakingly tracing each letter over with ink. By the time he’s finished, the sun has begun its descent towards the horizon. Just in time, he thinks.
Later, I texted you my congratulations, assured you how happy I was for you, how much you deserved it. I meant it. But maybe you sensed that something was up, because even when the new season started and we no longer shared a garage, you kept sending me texts after every race. Each one was the same: “Wanna go on a walk?”
I couldn’t tell you if it was an act of self-preservation, because of how badly it hurt to see you with Charles at Ferrari, or if I wanted to feel the twisted, bitter satisfaction from knowing that I got to reject you after you left me. Either way, the excuses were simple enough. Meetings with Mark. Last-minute training sessions at the gym. And my favorite—dinner with Danny Ric, my new Carlos Sainz.
Come to think of it, I never did end up getting dinner with Danny while we were teammates.
When I did show up, I’d make sure to tell you about how charismatic Danny was, how good the banter was, how hard we made each other laugh off-track. Only later did I realize that everything I was saying was what I would see in your C2 videos with Charles, which I followed with a level of manic compulsion that scared even me.
Eventually, the texts stopped coming. I thought I’d feel…relieved, or at least like I was moving on. And maybe I tried to tell myself I felt that way, but in reality, everything was just empty. I couldn’t have all of you, and I was so greedy that I chose rather to have none of you at all.
Lando searches his contacts for a name that doesn’t exist. Carlos Sainz: Not found, his phone tells him infuriatingly. With an exasperated sigh, he starts to swipe. And stops short, realizing that he had saved Carlos under Chili.
His thumb hovers uncertainly over the keyboard. He presses send.
Me Wanna go on a walk?
Time, teammates, and races passed, and as you got used to seeing yourself in red, I got used to being a Formula 1 driver, then a team leader as Oscar came in. I buried us deeper and deeper with each passing season and perfected the art of a casual hug on the podium, a cheerful clap on the back if we happened to pass each other on the paddock. I had only just come to terms with the realization that we would likely never be the same again when I woke up on the first day of February, 2024, to the news that Lewis would be taking your seat at Ferrari next year. Leaving the question of what color you would wear, if not red, open to every shade of the rainbow.
Then the dreams started.
When you came off a surgery hardly two weeks ago and snatched P1 at Melbourne, I dreamt that I walked into the motorhome, saw someone wearing a papaya cap with his back turned to me. And I knew it wasn’t Oscar, because those broad shoulders, the shock of hair that even a cap couldn’t contain, could only belong to a certain Spanish driver I knew so well, once upon a time.
You turned around, just like I knew you would. Smiled in a way I haven’t seen in four years. “Landooo…my muppet friend,” you crooned, drawing out the “o” the way you always used to do. You wrapped your arms around me…you always did have such strong arms.
“Chili. I should have done this long ago,” I told you, before the kiss…
A little gray bubble appears on the screen. Three dots, pulsing to the time of Lando’s pounding heart. Then:
Chili Can’t today 😞 dinner with Charles!! celebrating that Ferrari podium 🥳🇮🇹 But maybe some other time!
He stares at the messages. A minute passes, then two. He gently folds up the note, tucking it into his pocket as he stands and walks out of the MTC.
Lando looks out over the manmade lake in front of the building. The sunset reflected in it has uniformly turned it the exact shade of his hoodie. There will be no lavender, no cotton candy pink tonight.
He tugs the letter out of his pocket, unfolds it, and reads it one last time. A weary sigh. Carefully refolds it. A little airplane takes shape in Lando’s hands.
Four years of pushing you, thoughts of you, my feelings for you away, all gone with one headline. I hated myself for falling again so easily, but nobody can deny how addictive the feeling of hope is. Carlos, Chili, I had so many regrets, and maybe this is a sign that I should stop living with them from now on.
And if there’s one thing I regretted the most through all this, it’s not that I didn’t ask you to stay that evening at the MTC. It’s that I didn’t give you enough reason not to leave in the first place. Didn’t tell you what you meant to me when I could, didn’t try to make you see that there could be something here…something bigger maybe even than racing itself.
I don’t know if you’ll be wearing papaya, or navy, or (god forbid) highlighter green next year, but it doesn’t matter. I should have done this long ago, but that doesn’t matter either. All that matters is that you know how important you are, and have always been, to me. Know how the best podium celebrations and the fizziest champagne paled in comparison to the little blue bubbles of texts from you on my phone. Know that my trophies sit on a shelf collecting dust, but the paper airplane you made me never leaves my sight.
You are the stars in my eyes. In my wildest dreams, you’ll give me the chance to convince you that I can be that for you too. Teammates or not.
But until then…
In one fluid motion, he sends the plane sailing into the air, watches it catch the breeze until, robbed of its lift, it skims the surface of the lake, sending ripples emanating from where it first made contact with the water.
The plane bobs gently in the lake until it soaks up too much water to stay afloat. Lando watches it list gradually to the side, slowly disappearing from view as the paper disintegrates.
He turns and walks away from the lake.
Soy lago.
—Lando
notes: saw carlos explain lando’s comment on carlos’ mclaren → ferrari announcement post back in 2020 and have been unwell since also, yes, the mclaren building (mtc) does have a lake and boy the sunset does do it a lot of favors… easter eggs: lando not being able to spell, the damned ferrari video (where lando actually did have to start over and it RUINED ME), Would You Rather
more fics here! thanks for reading as always :)
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dadbots · 3 months
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Happy holidays / Yule / upcoming traditions. 🖤
#dadbots.txt#its been a rough month so far. not necessarily due to seasonal but overall changes for the better or worst.#While I /did/ managed to recover from my sinuses after 2-3 weeksish. I’m just not doing well still and it’s been a fuck of a rollercoaster.#I’m so tired. again. Just not a great end to this year. But hey - you win some you lose some. And other days to try again#Many adaptations been made but it’s not really repairing anything. Just kinda a bandaid on it and hope the wound heals if that make sense.#& made such a dumb move. But with so many people telling me to wait it out and said thing would change ended up being the exact same.#And I feel stupid for it. I knew better and yet — same thing. Which fuckin blows but okay. Whatever. At least I can’t lie and said I didn’t#- try at all yknow. I mean I did. It’s something. So guess we’re moving on from that experience. And that’s that#My progress is fluctuating like hell and back this year. I expected much and need to figure out what needs to go & needs to stay in my life#- Almost similar to spring cleaning. Whatever goes goes and whatever stays. Well. Stays if it benefits me or improve somehow#Hopefully it’d solve some of the negativity and awful energy going on. Some areas aren’t as easy or possible for personal reasons.#- but sometimes you gotta put your foot down and just do it. Whether that’s one step at a time or one big 360 and hope all goes well.#I need to be more persistent in my life concerning certain things. And others where I just need to learn to let go. Ignore it. Gone.#There’s just so much I need to do. From getting back on track. Working on things I’ve put off for years now. Adapting and improving.#- balance. Control. List could go on and on. But I did what I could this year. A lot of improvement. And while it kinda went down the draib#- after slipping into old habits again - at least I know I could improve in some way. I did it before. It /did/ work b4 longterm episodes#- and that’s worth a lot. Considering it’s something I talked about but couldn’t do at that time. Or just never did.#An accomplishment I had for this year. Now to see what else I can work on.
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ziracona · 1 year
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The Darkness really is the best song in the show.
#not musically. like as far as sheer Song goes it’s probably It Was A Shit Show or something but for like. emotion and rarity? I’ve never#ever seen someone confront that really ugly side to mental illness and it’s done so well. like yeah. it can become your identity to be ill#and you can fear losing it and it becomes a parasitic relationship that’s killing you and that’s not good and it’s hard to talk about —#almost impossible. because like. you /know/ how bad ‘what if without this I’m not interesting anymore and people have no reason to worry so#they have no reason to care about me’ is as a statement like that’s fucked up to think and feel. but it’s also not malicious or really you#it’s a part of being sick and people who haven’t been don’t understand it which makes it scary to try to confront and best because it makes#you sound so horrible—it makes you sound horrible to /yourself/ and that makes it hard even for you to confront it alone because you have to#admit it to kill it. I got so sick when I was dying of an ED and my brain got so fucked I began to believe with intense primal terror that#it had become so much of my identity nobody would care about me without it. which makes no sense but to a dying addicted head it did. and#I’ve never seen someone confront and discuss that ugliness so openly or so sympathetically at the same time. the line ‘for so many years ive#used the Darkness to feel. But now there are things in my life that are actually real. I’ve got to make a choice darling don’t ask me why.#But will I have the strength? to tell the darkness…goodbye…’ I cry.#it applies to a lot under that. to trauma associated with social neurodivergence where you learn to fear feeling happy as a kid because you#get loud or too much or things you don’t understand enough to not do them so the only way to be safe from repercussions is to not /be/ happy#in the first place. it applies to having clinical depression you’ve survived alone since childhood and your way of making it through life is#so intrinsically tied to coping with depression you have no idea what you’d be without it. it’s learned self-hatred of a cluster B needing#to hate themself to keep back the world flooding them when they feel at risk by doing it first#and it’s not pretty and it’s not easy but it is so fucking important people admit this is such a fucking common thing with serious mental#illness. how are we to get through self hatred and hopelessness and despair if we can’t even see the things we think are too bad to face are#as common a symptom as cutting? and just as curable and forgivable and not representative of who we are#god I love that song#crazy ex-girlfriend
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roaringroa · 1 year
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spent the holidays with my extended family which includes my 4 teenage cousins + one of their friends and it really made me realize just how much of a Not Teenager i am now (good thing) 
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astrow1zar6 · 3 months
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Astro Observations-19
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I notice Earth suns tend to have a very bullying type of humor. Very harsh dry humor that’s borderline offensive is their style. Sometimes it’s hard to know if they’re joking or serious especially Capricorn’s 😭
Aries men are surprisingly not as hot headed as people would expect. It actually takes a lot before they really yell at you. Usually only if u insult something they’re passionate in. The women are a lot more hot headed & easily set off imo
Mercury Rx people usually struggle with speech or reading problems. I notice it can result in having a stutter or a lisp, dyslexia or just very bad social anxiety. In extreme cases I’ve seen selective mutism. I also notice they have a very intense relationship with books & reading, it’s either they absolutely love reading or it’s really challenging for them in some way. A lot started off in their earlier years finding reading challenging then ended up loving reading as they grew. It’s like a mental exercise for them.
Saturn RX people always make bad choices lol. They always choose the path that will lead to the most hardship just for the fun of it or the excitement (which it’s normally not fun for too long) they usually grew up having a hard time with authority. Could of had very authoritative parents that were too hard on them which caused them to rebel. In this lifetime they are here to learn the value of HARD-work because in past lives these people were usually really irresponsible & put fun and pleasure over building their futures. These people will face so much disappointment until they surrender their rebel lifestyle. Deep down they do want to mature & be better but many believe they aren’t good enough. Once they reach this maturity however their life will do a 360.
Venus in the 1st house people can act very unpleasant when they are getting ignored or the attention isn’t fully on them. They value people liking them & fitting in so when they feel like they aren’t vibing with anyone they go into this deep self pity downer attitude. Their self esteem and happiness is determined by how many people accept them.
Venus in the 3rd house people have relationships that look more like friendships. Their partnerships are more playful & light then deep and intense. They usually end up dating their best friend. Could lack in the physical realm however in some cases.
Venus in the 7th house people usually have a lot of crushes. Most of them however never turn into anything deeper. It’s surprisingly hard for these people to fall in love. They can also lead a lot of people on because of their multiple crushes. Not easy to keep these people attention.
Moon in Caps are really afraid of rejection. They will act they hate you even if they’re in love with you to avoid showing their vulnerable side. Their coldness can ruin a lot of relationships that they actually really wanted.
Mercury in Pisces people can never stay on topic while speaking 😂 they have this habit of going off topic then completing forgetting why they were even telling the story in the first place. They also disassociate like a mf. They can be staring dead in your eyes for hours and not hear a word you’re saying lol.
If you try to argue with a Mars in the 3rd house you will never win. These people are natural born lawyers. They come with all the receipts 👀
Cancer placements tend to have really round faces. Like the moon.
Pisces placements are really wise and really childish at the same time. They all have this naive childish aura around them where you assume they don’t understand much but then when you really get to know them they will talk to you like your listening to an Alan Watts lecture 😂
Mercury in the 12th house I believe is the most introverted mercury placement. Even with a more extroverted mercury sign there’s still this deep reserve to them. These are usually those kids in class that you never heard speak once then they finally speak u think “holy shit they do know how to talk” lol. I notice they choose to stay quiet because people ignore them anyways. Like people will ask them to be more open and talk more & when they actually try they are usually brushed off.. it’s really not fair, and they know this all too well.
Aquarius Venus 🤝 having their friends catch feelings for them
Uranus/Venus aspects are usually apart of the LGBTQ community.
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feybeasts · 9 months
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I really don’t know if this is like. For anyone. But as a 33 year old autistic, I’ve spent a lot of time having to deal with a wide variety of folks in various jobs, and it’s forced me out of my shell. I dunno if you’d call ‘em masking behaviors or just… guidelines, but I thought I’d share some stuff about how I try to go about dealing with socializing with folks, especially neurotypicals, in the hopes it might help folks like me who, growing up, didn’t have a rulebook for this stuff.
It’s by no means comprehensive, but maybe some of you can use it:
Open with kindness, folks are a mystery until you get to know them, but if you’re polite and assume the best unless proven otherwise, nine times out of ten, they’ll be the same way!
If someone is rude or disrespectful or unkind off the bat, it truly is a problem on their end, not yours. I know that’s one your parents might have thrown out without explaining, but genuinely, my experience has been that people aren’t good about compartmentalization, and they tend to let their bad mood spill out.
Similarly, it’s your right to disengage if someone makes you uncomfortable. You don’t owe someone your attention if they’re rude or too forward, and it’s not your obligation to correct their behavior. It’s okay to just move on!
Remember people aren’t mind readers- I know for folks like us, feelings can be Big and Present and Overwhelming, but from the outside, people might just assume you’re being sullen or grumpy. It’s helpful to explain yourself, what’s going on- don’t give ‘em your life’s story and try to lead with kindness, as above, but explaining where your head is at can help folks understand why things might be hard for you.
People REALLY like to try to fix stuff. If you tell someone who cares about you what’s going on and they try to throw a buncha stuff like “well have you tried this” or “maybe you should do this” at you, they’re generally not trying to tell you what to do like you’re wrong, they’re just not sure how to help and are doing what comes naturally- trying to fix the problem. It can help to open any venting with “hey, can I vent about this?” Since then the expectations are set.
People can only operate on the information they have, so it’s better to over-explain than not explain at all. Don’t throw out every single detail of what’s going on, just the basics, but “I’m feeling frustrated because of some unexpected news” or “Well, I’m kinda struggling with my relationship with a friend” can be enough for folks to understand things at the ground floor.
There are very few people in your life who are capable of taking on the weight of a friend’s problems on top of their own, and it takes time to learn who those people are. I know folks like us can make friends quickly and rush into trusting them implicitly, but people can sometimes take a while to show you who they are. And not every friendship is gonna be as deep as we’d like it to be. This is okay, of course, not everyone has to be best buds, but it can help a lot to take the time to wait for those people to show who they are.
Ask questions, listen to people, and know that it’s okay for there to be silence. It’s very easy to get excited about what’s stuck in your craw on a given day, but remember that from the outside, people might get worn out if every conversation is about what you’re fixated on. It’s a give and take, so try to consciously remind yourself to make sure to listen and give them room to speak too! It means a lot when you do that for people!
When you don’t know if someone is ignoring you or if they’re mad at you or what have you from a lack of information, remember that oftentimes it’s a product of ignorance, not malice. Again, you know how you feel about a situation, but they probably don’t. A conversation turning from what you were talking about, someone ceasing replying to you, not answering a question, etc is more often just unaware than they are actively being malicious.
Remember that it’s on other folks to tell you if there’s a problem between them and you, not on you to sleuth it out. If they aren’t properly communicating with you, that’s on them, not you- try not to beat yourself up if someone doesn’t talk to you about something before a molehill becomes a mountain, that’s a mistake all kinda folks make, and it’s something some people never learn.
Most of all, remember that for all the talk of social cues and neurotypical behavior, the truth is, everyone kinda… sucks at this social thing. All you really control is how you approach it, so if you do your best to come into a relationship of any kind with kindness and love for yourself and respect for others, most of the time you’ll come out ahead!
ADDENDUM: BIG one here- if you think you did something wrong, apologize! I don’t mean a big like- sobbing show of contrition, don’t grovel or write paragraphs, but if you speak over someone or say something that doesn’t land or make any little social mistake here or there (everyone does sometimes!) a simple little genuine “oh, my apologies!” Or “oop, my bad!” Not only makes them feel better, it can make you feel better too!
Hope some of these help folks!
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art · 5 months
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Creator Spotlight: GDBee Art (@prinnay)
Geneva Bowers is inspired by the wonders of the natural world around us, and enjoys manipulating colors to create art full of mood and feelings.
Check out our interview with Geneva below!
How did you get started with art? Did you originally have a background in art?
I’m going to say yes because that’s all I’ve known how to do. It started because I wanted to draw better horses than my sister, and it just spiraled from there. People started asking me to draw things because they saw me drawing horses. I was like, well, I can draw things that aren’t horses, and then it was just kind of all I did. 
Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?
I have one right now! Honestly, with time, and I also collect art books; I think I have a couple hundred. If I really want to draw something, then I just flip through those and try to steal some ideas.
Which three famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?
I mean, of course Van Gogh…I’m really inspired by Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, so I would invite Van Gogh, Monet, and Julie Dillon to a dinner party.
Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?
Yeah, actually, I currently am! I’m trying to do more traditional painting. I used to do a lot of acrylics, but I haven’t done it in years, and now I’m kind of bad at it. I’m trying to get into actual impressionistic art with oils and oil pastels. I’m like failing, but you know, you get there. Just fail until it looks presentable. 
If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?
I guess it’s more of a feeling. I create art because I’m inspired by things around me, like certain video games. For example, I have been inspired by a Japanese RPG called Chrono Cross on PlayStation 1. They make me feel a certain type of inspiration to create something, so that’s kind of like what I’m hoping to leave behind. 
Have any of your projects surprised you with their outcome?
Yeah! I did this Weapon Faerie series where I took three prompts: a weapon, a winged insect, and an herb, which I combined to make different characters. So, a faerie with a spiked club or a butterfly faerie with a katana. I made 13 of those, and they kind of took off! I wasn’t expecting that at all.
What is the hardest part of your process?
My whole art style is coloring, like the way it’s colored… but I hate the coloring process, haha. I like doing the color combos, but I don’t like the blending and shading. That takes like one-trillion years. It’s the part where I’m most likely to give up. You know how art kind of looks ugly before it looks good? I’m trying to trust that process. 
What do you wish you knew when you started creating art that you know now?
I guess one big thing would be knowing how to use lights and darks. When I do color, it is definitely colorful, but when you switch it to black and white, you see that everything’s the same tone of gray. I’ve learned that if you just use some brighter colors and some darker shades, you create a bigger impact in the end. So, now, when I paint something digital, I make it black and white for a moment to see where all the hues are, and if something is weirdly dark or not dark enough, I can change it.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
Oh, @feefal definitely inspires me. She does a lot of spooky art.
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lackadaisycats · 1 month
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Hey Tracy! Have you heard about the new Ai called Sora? Apparently it can now create 2D and 3D animations as well as hyper realistic videos. I’ve been getting into animation and trying to improve my art for years since I was 7, but now seeing that anyone can create animation/works in just a mare seconds by typing in a couple words, it’s such a huge slap in the face to people who actually put the time and effort into their works and it’s so discouraging! And it has me worried about what’s going to happen next for artists and many others, as-well. There’s already generated voices, generated works stolen from actual artists, generated music, and now this! It’s just so scary that it’s coming this far. 
Yeah, I've seen it. And yeah, it feels like the universe has taken on a 'fuck you in particular' attitude toward artists the past few years. A lot of damage has already been done, and there are plenty of reasons for concern, but bear in mind that we don't know how this will play out yet. Be astute, be justifiably angry, but don't let despair take over. --------
One would expect that the promo clips that have been dropping lately represent some of the best of the best-looking stuff they've been able to produce. And it's only good-looking on an extremely superficial level. It's still riddled with problems if you spend even a moment observing. And I rather suspect, prior to a whole lot of frustrated iteration, most prompts are still going to get you camera-sickness inducing, wibbly-wobbly nonsense with a side of body horror.
Will the tech ultimately get 'smarter' than that and address the array of typical AI giveaways? Maybe. Probably, even. Does that mean it'll be viable in quite the way it's being marketed, more or less as a human-replacer? Well…
A lot of this is hype, and hype is meant to drive up the perceived value of the tech. Executives will rush to be early adopters without a lot of due diligence or forethought because grabbing it first like a dazzled chimp and holding up like a prize ape-rock makes them look like bleeding-edge tech geniuses in their particular ecosystem. They do this because, in turn, that perceived value may make their company profile and valuations go up too, which makes shareholders short-term happy (the only kind of happy they know). The problem is how much actual functional value will it have? And how long does it last? Much of it is the same routine we were seeing with blockchain a few years ago: number go up. Number go up always! Unrealistic, unsustainable forever-growth must be guaranteed in this economic clime. If you can lay off all of your people and replace them with AI, number goes up big and never stops, right?
I have some doubts. ----------------------
The chips also haven't landed yet with regards to the legality of all of this. Will these adopters ultimately be able to copyright any of this output trained on datasets comprised of stolen work? Can computer-made art even be copyrighted at all? How much of a human touch will be required to make something copyright-able? I don't know yet. Neither do the hype team or the early adopters.
Does that mean the tech will be used but will have to be retrained on the adopter's proprietary data? Yeah, maybe. That'd be a somewhat better outcome, at least. It still means human artists make specific things for the machine to learn from. (Watch out for businesses that use 'ethical' as a buzzword to gloss over how many people they've let go from their jobs, though.)
Will it become industry standard practice to do things this way? Maybe. Will it still require an artist's sensbilities and oversignt to plan and curate and fix the results so that it doesn't come across like pure AI trash? Yeah, I think that's pretty likely.
If it becomes standard practice, will it become samey, and self-referential and ultimately an emblem of doing things the cookie-cutter way instead of enlisting real, human artists? Quite possibly.
If it becomes standard industry practice, will there still be an audience or a demand or a desire for art made by human artists? Yes, almost certainly. With every leap of technology, that has remained the case. ------------------ TL;DR Version:
I'm not saying with any certainty that this AI blitz is a passing fad. I think we're likely to experience a torrential amount of generative art, video, voice, music, programming, and text in the coming years, in fact, and it will probably irrevocably change the layout of the career terrain. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was being overhyped as a business strategy right now. And I don't think the immensity of its volume will ever overcome its inherent emptiness.
What I am certain of is that it will not eliminate the innate human impulse to create. Nor the desire to experience art made by a fellow soul. Keep doing your thing, Anon. It's precious. It's authentic. It will be all the more special because it will have come from you, a human.
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wife-of-all-dilfs · 7 months
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pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake
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summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?
warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging
note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.
word count: 16.7k
“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”
You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.
“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”
A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.
Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.
He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.
What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.
“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.
Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.
“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”
Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”
You smiled, humming in agreement.
“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”
You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.
“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.
In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”
However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.
“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”
Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.
And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.
You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”
His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.
Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.
He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.
“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.
It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.
He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.
You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.
Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.
His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.
He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.
Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.
“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.
Now he knew.
Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.
After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.
You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.
“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”
His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.
“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.
“Who said I was?”
“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”
You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.
The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.
“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”
Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.
“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.
“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”
He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.
You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.
He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”
Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.
Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”
He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.
**********
It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.
There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.
Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.
Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”
With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.
He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.
“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.
“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”
There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.
They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.
You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.
Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.
“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.
You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.
His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”
And so, you did.
Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.
All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.
An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.
“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”
They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.
You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your­–”
He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”
That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.
Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”
“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.
Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.
“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.
Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?
Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.
Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”
She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.
You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.
“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”
His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.
The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.
“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.
“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.
Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.
Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.
He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”
The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.
As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.
Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.
His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.
The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…
“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.
Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.
You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.
“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.
Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”
“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.
**********
The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.
Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.
Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–
A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.
Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.
To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.
You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Something on your mind?”
He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.
More like ‘someone’, you thought.
“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”
Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.
His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”
Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.
“Bellamy,” you warned.
He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Uh oh.”
The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.
Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.
“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”
“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.
He nodded.
Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”
As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.
Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.
The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.
“Without…?” you coaxed him on.
You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.
God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.
By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.
He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”
Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.
“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.
Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.
Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.
“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.
“Um, winning?”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”
You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.
“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”
He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.
His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.
You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.
Something was missing.
You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.
“Ow!”
Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.
Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”
“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.
It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.
“Some bug.”
That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.
Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.
The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.
“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.
As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.
“Swarm.”
“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.
You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.
Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.
“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.
Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.
After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.
You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.
“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.
Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.
“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.
He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”
Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.
Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.
“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”
Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.
“Clarke, wait!”
“Get back here!”
To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?
You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.
“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”
Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.
Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.
“It’s down! Come on!”
Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.
No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.
Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”
Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.
He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.
“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.
**********
Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.
The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.
You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.
Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.
Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”
Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.
If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?
“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.
It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.
You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.
“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”
“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted
You raised your hands in faux fear.
Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”
Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.
You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.
“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”
He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.
“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”
He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.
Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.
You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”
It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.
You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.
(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)
However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.
While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.
You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.
As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.
At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.
Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?
After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.
Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.
The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.
And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.
He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.
Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.
Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.
You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.
Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.
That son of a bitch.
Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.
Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.
“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.
Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.
Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.
You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.
Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.
Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.
He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…
So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.
Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.
Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position. 
Bellamy.
“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.
He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.
The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”
Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”
He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.
You moved onto your knees as he got closer.
Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”
His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.
For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.
When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.
You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”
He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”
The game. You had almost forgotten.
Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.
“Don’t think that will work, princess.”
You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.
He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.
“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.
Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.
Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”
“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”
I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.
He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.
“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”
Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.
“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”
Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”
He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”
You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”
Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.
To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.
In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.
You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.
His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.
Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.
He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.
You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.
Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.
You wiggled against him, but it was futile.
“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”
He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.
“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.
“Just touch me,” you pleaded.
A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.
Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.
Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.
His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.
He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.
All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.
And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.
Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.
It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.
Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.
He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”
His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.
“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”
He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.
Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.
His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.
“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.
Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.
Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.
It all happened so fast.
“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.
Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.
Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.
You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground
Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.
You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.
He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.
His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.
He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.
If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.
“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.
His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”
You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.
“You still lost, remember?” he added.
As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”
His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.
“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.
Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.
He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”
His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”
“A man would take these chains off me.”
“You think taunting me will get me to break?”
Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.
Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.
You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.
And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.
You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.
Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.
His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.
He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.
Come on. Come on, you thought.
“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”
That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.
Weak point four—check.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.
And five. Check yes Juliet.
Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.
Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.
Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.
He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.
You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.
His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.
Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.
He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.
Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.
You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.
A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.
He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…
No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.
His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.
He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.
Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.
Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.
That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.
He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.
And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.
His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.
The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.
You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”
A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.
Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.
It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.
Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.
Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.
He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.
You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.
And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.
“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.
Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.
A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.
The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.
His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.
Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.
He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.
“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”
You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.
Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”
His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.
Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.
Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.
“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”
You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.
He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.
Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.
You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.
In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”
He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.
Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.
Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.
“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.
His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”
“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”
He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.
His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”
You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.
It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.
“Lean back,” he said, and you did.
Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.
“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.
You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.
He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.
He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.
Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.
His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.
The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.
You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.
His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.
Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.
His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.
You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.
“Bell, I’m gonna–”
“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”
Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.
He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.
The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.
Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.
His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.
Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.
You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.
Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.
The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.
“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.
You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”
“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”
You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–
“Oh, come on!”
You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.
Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”
“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”
His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.
“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”
“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.
“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”
You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”
Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.
It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.
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literaila · 9 days
Text
it's not my fault
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument
warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents
last part | next part
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*
year five.
“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“ 
you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words. 
they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day. 
but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart. 
megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.” 
you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces. 
they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly. 
tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.” 
“i wasn’t mean.” 
“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.” 
“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.” 
“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.” 
megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.” 
“well, i do! you’re my brother.” 
“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.” 
“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“ 
“i’ve never complained—“ 
“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.” 
tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed. 
usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last. 
but those fights don’t typically involve yelling. 
sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.
but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down. 
this seems… different. 
a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ. 
you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work. 
and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end. 
with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language. 
it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture. 
satoru would do it if he was here. 
“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?” 
“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle. 
really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance. 
you make a mental note to look it up later. 
you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."
you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea. 
in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces. 
“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?” 
they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question. 
but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care. 
“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried. 
and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her. 
but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.” 
“you told her not to talk to you!” 
he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?” 
you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“ 
“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.” 
“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“ 
“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?” 
you turn, “megumi—“ 
“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes. 
and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do. 
“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.” 
tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.
“are you going to stop hanging out with me?” 
“maybe.” 
“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”
“guys—“ 
“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.” 
“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“ 
“why are you always—“ 
“guys.” 
they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice. 
you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further. 
why would they when they can just keep arguing?
you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. 
really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that. 
harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through. 
plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of. 
“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.” 
“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.
you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.” 
“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now. 
it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious. 
you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait. 
you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”
“break,” megumi says, immediately.
“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time. 
for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.
“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.” 
they both glare at each other. 
“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary. 
tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.” 
you both look at megumi, waiting. 
he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“ 
“megumi.” 
he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head. 
“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“ 
you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”
you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.” 
he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.” 
tsumiki swallows, not saying anything. 
you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess. 
both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off." 
you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break. 
the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.
“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.” 
megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.” 
“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“ 
“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing. 
okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago. 
“chiyo's my friend!” 
megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.” 
“but you were mean.” 
you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated. 
“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“
“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.  
you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.
“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.” 
“maybe they just suck.” 
“they don’t suck. this is—“
and then it all breaks down.
“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”
you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."
the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart. 
he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you. 
"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out." 
"by yelling at each other?" 
you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--" 
you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.
megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other. 
their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker. 
tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes. 
but eventually, you and satoru look back at them. 
"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off. 
and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered. 
but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door. 
you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or... 
you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way. 
and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that. 
so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think." 
she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug. 
it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.
"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them." 
"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in." 
he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?" 
he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way. 
you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something." 
"we're communicating." 
"whatever."
satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically. 
"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them." 
"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously. 
"and neither will your parenting skills." 
satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me." 
"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?" 
satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those." 
"satoru." 
"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block." 
you look at him blandly. 
satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology. 
obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.
satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you. 
you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face. 
*
you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you. 
it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen. 
but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option. 
and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard. 
still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going. 
but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in. 
you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it." 
satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty." 
"well, i taught him that." 
satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did." 
"of course you didn't." 
he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?" 
"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it." 
"who?" 
you frown. "chiyo?" 
satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."
you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.  
satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki." 
"behind her back?" 
satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding. 
"oh." 
"yeah, oh." 
you frown. “what did they say?”
satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”
you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”
satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad." 
you shake your head at him, tsking. 
you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same. 
so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin. 
it's a very unpleasant feeling. 
"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly. 
"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while." 
and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.
after all, you and satoru have taught them well. 
*
next part | series masterlist
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cherry-leclerc · 1 month
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all i ever asked ☆ cl16
genre: tiny bit of childhood fluff, angst, childhood bestiesss, yearning
word count: 1.1k
There can only be room for two individuals on Valentine’s Day.
cherry here!... quick req, but my gift to you - HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY :)
inspired by this !
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Forever and more, Charles promises as he wraps the flower ring he just made for you around your finger. That’s how long I’ll love for because I’m going to marry you when we grow older. Just you wait and see.
That’s impossible, you retort. We’re only 6. Years from now you’re going to forget all about me. Like that time you forgot my Valentine’s Day card!
He gasps sarcastically, shoulders drooping. 
It’ll be different. Pinky swear. 
-
They’ve all told you the exact same thing: You need to learn how to get to places on time. Especially if it’s something important.
Like the time you left buying Lando’s birthday cake for the last minute and showed up two hours late. Or when you promised George you would fix up a romantic setting for him and Carmen for their third year anniversary. 
And somehow, Charles was always there with you. He was the one who called the bakery as you pressed on the gas, dirty curses ringing through the air. He was the one who woke up at the rise of dawn to help you buy roses and champagne. It was just always him.
Which is why you could never - ever - make him wait.
“Wine?” the waitress politely offers as you nod. “It might help with the nerves, no?” 
You smile sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?” 
The girl shrugs with a sweet giggle. “We’re all a bit jittery on Valentine’s Day, but hopefully your significant other shows up soon, if not someone else will slide in and try to impress you.”
“Oh,” you laugh anxiously. “No, I…I don’t think so.” As soon as she leaves, the Monegasque rushes in, panting as if he just ran a 5k. You’re here? You wince. “I was able to get out early. Happy Valentine's Day by the way.”
A lopsided grin stretches across his lips. “Happy Valentine's Day.” A second ticks by before he abruptly hands you a red box. “I hope you like it.”
“Is it a mud cake?”
“First of all, I was 8. Second of all, I have a feeling this might be a whole lot better.”
Giddy with excitement, you rip the wrapping paper as his knee jerks up and down with anticipation. Shining back at you is a stunning gold bracelet, dainty - just the way you like it. He knows that. What’s wrong? Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as you snap the box shut. “Nothing.” Green eyes connect to yours. “I love it.”
With slight hesitance, he takes a sip of the red wine. “I knew you would.”
You don’t really remember when flower rings turned into high end jewelry. You don’t really remember when he stopped showing up, suddenly busy. The blossom rings were never the neatest, but you loved them as if they were. It proved to you that he spent time carving something simply because he wanted to. The gems only told you he walked into a store and picked the first one that caught his eye. 
“Since we’re already here…”
Your stomach drops, butterflies exploring your insides. This was it. This was the moment you saw coming from the moment he met her. His lips are moving but you’re not there. You feel pathetic when you feel yourself nodding along like an idiot. Why? Where did all his promises lie now? 
She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, he swooned as Pierre chuckled. It just makes sense. She makes me feel things I never knew existed. I’m going to get married to her, you’ll see.
“Charlotte-”
It’s as if someone punched you, leaving you like a wounded deer. His face pales - you’ve never been the kind to be able to hide your disappointment. He just never thought it would ever be aimed towards him.
“You know she loves you, right?” he questions eagerly as tears fill up your round eyes. What’s the purpose of you telling me that? The Monegasque winces. “But things have been getting out of control. You’ve seen the tabloids. They’re calling me a cheater. Fuck. They’re probably going to run with this meet up.”
You flinch. “You called me.”
“I know, I know I did, but I had to see you. This has always been our day.” A wet sob escapes past your puffy lips, hand immediately going in to muffle them. Even after everything, his reputation was always your priority. Red rimmed eyes check to see if anyone’s noticed as you tug your brows with a hurt look.
“Used to be.”
Charles stiffens, but continues nonetheless. “She suggested we stop seeing each other. Only for a while until everything dies down.” He tries to reach across the table towards you but you only scoot back further. You loved him - you always would. Which is what made things worse because you knew what he saw was a temporary thing, you viewed a formal goodbye. 
“Is this what you want?” you whisper meekly, shaky hands clutching onto the red box. He exhales.
“Charlotte is who I want.”
It was obvious from the beginning, but you foolishly dreamt about the unobtainable. You would’ve given it all up. You’d be the last one to leg go of the rope if that meant he’d stay a part of your daily life. The one that needed him in it. 
The brunette looks away. “She’s my wife. I have to do this for her.” A beat. “But you’re my best friend. No one could ever change that.”
Everything felt like a fleeting moment when it came to him. His words held onto their end until he decided it wasn’t convenient enough anymore. It only would have been so much longer until he really hit you with the harsh reality - all good things must come to an end.
But you just couldn’t find the strength to hate him, even after everything. You hated that he was the only man you could ever picture loving because it was just so easy to do. 
“I have feelings, too, Charles.” His eyes narrow, staggered breath hitching. “It’s my fault.”
“No.” Large hands press against his lap as he taps anxiously. “Don’t ever think like that.”
With a sad whimper, you finally let yourself reach for his hand as he rapidly does the same. “You were so sweet when we were kids.” A wet laugh makes him lighten up. “But we’re not kids anymore and your sweetness belongs to someone else now.”
He could feel you slipping away and he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He should’ve persisted with Charlotte to not be so cruel, to understand that you were a large factor of his life. How could you not be? You always traveled with him for karting, even if that just got you in deep trouble with your parents. You were the first to congratulate him when he got his F1 seat, something he had worked so hard for. Rosy lips form a thin line before curling into a forced smile.
“And I’ve accepted it.”
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fiapartridge · 3 months
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wedding bells | quinn hughes
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summary: in which y/n and her fiancé, quinn hughes, plan their long-awaited wedding.
request: [...i read invisible string...and it made me think of when they’re actually engaged and planning their wedding...quinn would love cake tasting and picking out the menu...and the bride loves planning the wedding but...[it's] stressful and she wants everything to be perfect. some minor thing goes wrong and she has a bridezilla breakdown moment and quinn is so sweet and calms her down...]
author's note 💌: eeee i love this request!!!! thank u anon for requesting; it's so cute!
cake tasting
“I’ve been waiting for this day since the moment I learned this existed,” Quinn beamed, his eyes fixed on the road as he exited the freeway. His right hand rested gently on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but grin, happy that he finally wanted to be involved in a part of the wedding planning process—even if today was all about cake.
With a playful tilt of your head, a mock tsk of disapproval escaped your lips as Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be eating healthy for your game next week? How about I eat the cake and you watch.”
“And watch you live out my dream?” he scoffed. “Yeah, the game’s not that important.”
“That game is gonna secure your spot in the playoffs, Captain,” you smirked, playfully poking his arm. You loved teasing him about his captaincy, like saying Aye aye, Captain whenever he asked you for a favor, or your personal fave, So when does the team give you your honorary eye patch and silver hooky thingy? To which he always responds with, Not that kind of captain, babe. 
As Quinn pulled into the bakery’s parking lot, he cupped your cheeks in his hand, his face growing serious, feeling almost like a team huddle. His voice lowered, and his face drew close to yours as he laid out some sort of plan. “I’m gonna eat a lot of cake today, so much that I wore my stretchy pants-”
“Oh, the Lululemon ones that I bought you?” You got them for him as a Christmas gift along with other items. You were happy that he actually wore them outside the house for once. 
“Yes those ones, but we need to stay focused.” You nodded intently, totally focused. “Jack is gonna call you later and he’s gonna ask you if I ate any of this cake today, and I’m gonna need you to lie.”
A burst of laughter escaped you. “You want me to lie to Jacky? About you eating cake? During our cake tasting? Because…”
“Because him and Luke have a bet going on that I’m gonna break my diet for this, and Luke said that if he wins we’re splitting the cash 50/50, so I really need you to lie, baby.”
Rolling your eyes, you opened the passenger door, Quinn doing the same on his side. “I really don’t understand you guys. Like, why not just be normal and bet on who’s winning the next Super Bowl or something?”
Quinn wrapped around the front of the car, intertwining his fingers with yours as you approached the bakery’s entrance. “Did that a few years ago, we each lost $700 to Luke.”
“Jesus, you guys are loaded. The last time my family and I had a bet, we each did $10 and whatever old gift card we had stowed away in our wallets. Apparently mine was from 2015 and the place it was for got shut down for rat poisoning? I don’t know,” you shrugged.
As the hours passed and the 20th cake flavor came around, Quinn felt like his stretchy pants were out of stretch, and you felt like you could take a nap right on top of the table. Cakes were not for the weak, let me tell you that.
“I feel like everything tastes the same now,” Quinn struggled to get the words out. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was trying not to heave and talk at the same time. 
“I feel like I can’t feel my legs,” you replied, a visible food baby proudly displayed on your belly.
Dipping your finger into the frosting of the pink champagne cake, guaranteed to be the most fanciest cake you’ve ever had, you swiped it across Quinn’s nose. “Oops,” you grinned. “I’m just so full; I must’ve twitched or something.”
Rolling his eyes, Quinn smeared the orange creamsicle cake across your face, as if you were donning eye black and dodging defenders past the 40-yard line.
“Oh, you’re getting it,” you laughed, swiping a finger across the blueberry with graham cracker crumble, a grandma’s dying wish, planting strokes on his chin and forehead. “Aw, don’t you look cute?” you teased.
He smirked, getting impossibly close. It was good that the wedding planner and cake baker were in another room chatting, or else they would probably be yelling at you two to get your hands off each other at once. “Wanna make a bet?”
“Hm, does it involve me losing thousands of dollars?” He shook his head. “Hundreds?” Another shake. “Any money?” One more. “Then you’re on, pretty boy. What’s your proposition?”
“We leave right now and you can lick all of this off in the car-”
“Amy!” you shouted for your wedding planner as she came stumbling into the room, afraid something was wrong. “We have to go; family emergency,” you pouted, really selling it. “I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”
“Oh, yeah, okay!” she nodded. “Take care of the family!”
“Will do!” you shouted, dragging Quinn behind you as if you were Lightning McQueen in any of the Cars movies. Boy, were you quick. Even Quinn was shook and he skated with some of the fastest hockey players around. 
“I win,” Quinn whispered, his lips pressed to the crown of your head as you reached the car, pushing him inside. 
“Yeah? Kinda seems like I’m the winner.”
the wedding rehearsal
“Oh, don’t you flower girls look cute?” you smiled, drawing your knees to your chest as you bent down to meet them eye-level. “You ready to walk the runway?”
“Daddy said this was a wedding,” Ella, your brother’s daughter, shyly replied, playing with a couple of petals in the basket. 
“Wedding shmedding,” you grinned, earning giggles from the little ones. “Think of it as a runway, and you’re the models.”
“What about,” Grace, Brady and Emma’s daughter piped up, “it’s a runway and I’m the airplane?”
“Oh,” you said, eyes widening a bit before breaking into a giggle.
“That works too! Just don’t be afraid, okay? If it makes you two feel any better, Uncle Jacky has to walk the aisle and he can barely skate on two feet.”
“Hey!” Jack popped out of the line forming behind the three of you, a procession of earthy-toned dresses and black-and-white suits ready to rehearse for the big day. The sight made you want to cry. Everyone you ever cared about was here for you and Quinn, for your big day. 
It brought you back to the moment you met Quinn, the moment your life truly began. You were friends with Emma, having met in college at Boston University where you also met Brady. You had just gotten out of a year-long relationship and were stressed over midterms, so Emma suggested that you get a “sex-tox” — a detox involving, well, sex. It sounded perfect at the time. Fuck a stranger, never see them again, release some stress, and live your best life.
But that’s kind of hard to do when that stranger is Quinn Hughes. You fell in love with him the moment Brady introduced you. Maybe it was the way his hand lingered in yours for a just a second longer than what’s considered a “normal” handshake, or maybe it was the way his eyes followed you throughout the bar like he was scared that you would come back to the table with another guy’s arm draped over your shoulder, or maybe it was the way he said your name, like it was made for his lips and his voice.
He was just so perfect and now you were marrying him. It all felt so much like a dream, like you’ll wake up one day and everything will be gone. But when you see Quinn laughing with his groomsmen, his eyes immediately finding yours, his arms flying around your body, hundreds of whistles and hoots coming from everyone around you as you tuned them out, your attention solely placed on the man you’ll be able to call your husband as little as tomorrow, you know that this is real, and he is yours, and this is peace.
the wedding day
This is a disaster. The centerpiece flowers are sky blue instead of columbia, your grandma wants to trade seats with William Nylander because she has this newfound obsession with Mitch Marner which would put William Nylander with your grandpa and the weird uncle that always gets way too drunk at weddings but will never admit that he has an alcohol problem, chalking it up to a “one time thing.” Even though we all know that he’s gonna do it again at the next wedding! And to top the shit-cake that is this day, your wedding planner decided to be selfish and break her water overnight, so now she’s in the hospital trying to push a tiny human out of her uterus while you’re here trying not to physically strangle every single person that comes to you with a question.
You were tired, and nervous, and your makeup looks terrible, and you feel bloated, and you don’t feel pretty enough to walk down that aisle, and you don’t feel pretty enough to be with Quinn, and why would he want to be with a girl that can’t even plan her own damn wedding correctly? And you just feel…defeated. 
“Hey, Y/N,” Luke bounced through the door of your bridal suite, his hand hovering over his eyes. 
“You don’t have to cover your eyes, Luke, you’re not the groom,” you muttered, fiddling with the ends of your hair.
“Right,” he chuckled nervously. “Um, so there’s a problem.” 
You closed your eyes, sighing. You felt like your head might explode. What else are we going to add to this ginormous shit storm of a day? Let me guess, Cole already got shit-faced at the mini bar, or Nico got lost on the way here and that car held Jesper, Holtz, and Dougie, or oh! Did your brother get into conversation with Trevor on how he can perfect his alley-oop if he substituted Milano with him? Seriously, what else can get worse than this?
“We can’t find Quinn.”
You’re gonna throw up. Are you already throwing up? Because there’s this tingly feeling that’s bubbling in your throat, and you don’t know if it’s from the copious amount of champagne you consumed last night or the urge to find Quinn and murder him with your bare hands. I think it’s the latter.
Before Luke could say anything else, you dashed towards the door, his calls fading behind you. You didn’t know if you were running to find Quinn or to escape this hell hole for yourself. Maybe Quinn was onto something. Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, were you that naive to believe that someone like Quinn would actually want to marry someone like you?
With your shoes discarded, you found solace on a rock overlooking a small lake near the venue. Your once pristine white gown was now engulfed in the grass, your disheveled hair was poking out of its metal claw clip,  your mascara was noticeably smudged, and the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down your face no matter how hard you tried to stop it. You were nervous about the wedding, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore since the groom is apparently missing and nothing else is working out. Ha! Now they don’t even have a bride. This is terrific.
With crunching leaves, you heard a small, “Hey,” behind you.
You turned slowly to find Quinn, the man of the hour, finally present. You didn’t say anything, fearing that your words would come out with a choke. You couldn’t stop crying.
Quinn settled down on the rock next to you. “I’m sorry for leaving like that, I just—had to clear my head for a bit. I’m a little nervous.”
“Are you getting cold feet?” you mumbled, scared to hear his answer. You knew he loved you, but you also knew that he would put people’s feelings way above his own. You didn’t want to marry him if he was having doubts.
He shook his head. “No.” His hands found yours amid the puffiness of your dress. “I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that you’re the woman I want to marry.”
“So why-”
“There’s like 300 people out there waiting to see us get married, and Jack’s already talking about us having a kid in the next couple months, and—it’s a lot, you know? You?”
You furrowed your brows. “Me, what?”
“Getting cold feet?”
You shook your head. “I’m tired,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I feel like everything’s going wrong today. Amy’s out having a baby, the flowers are the wrong shade of blue, Grandma wants to sit next to Mitch Marner, I thought you left, and-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Quinn cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, just as he has done time and time before. The gesture never fails to give you a sense of comfort. “Years from now, when we’re old and living in a house in the suburbs, and you’ll probably have an orange tabby cat on your lap, and we’ll be telling stories to our grandchildren about our wedding day, we’re not gonna remember the color of the flowers, or who sat next to Marner, or any of that, okay?”
You nodded.
“We’re gonna remember you and me. We’re gonna remember how much I love you. And we’re probably gonna remember us sitting on rocks, stalling our own wedding day.”
A giggle escaped you because this was all so ridiculous. Quinn was right; you’re not gonna remember everything that went wrong. You and Quinn—that’s all that matters.
You pressed a long, innocent, and probably salty kiss on his lips. He saw you in your wedding dress, a superstitious hockey player breaking a centuries-long superstition, but for once, you didn’t care. 
“You ready to get married?” Quinn grinned, holding his hand out to you. 
You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”
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yamameta-inc · 2 months
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it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.
children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.
schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.
there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.
i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.
they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.
there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.
i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.
imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.
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mattitties · 3 months
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Boyfriend, pt 3 - matt sturniolo
smutty smut smut!
part 1 part 2
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“How was the date?” my roommate asks as I go into her room.
All I can do is smile. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy in my life. “I love him,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh jesus. Okay, come sit, tell me everything.” 
I sit on her bed and recount the whole night, from him picking me up at the door, to listening to Taylor Swift with me, to me never feeling a moment of awkwardness, and finally, to him kissing me outside the apartment. “Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a boyfriend so any ounce of actual romantic attention is a dream come true but I genuinely think he’s perfect for me,” I tell her.
“He does sound pretty perfect for you…”
“See!”
“But slow ya roll! Take it easy, just don’t rush into anything.” I nod in agreement. I know that there’s still so much to learn about him, but I just feel like I already trust him with my life. It takes me a long time to feel truly comfortable with anyone, but there’s just something about him that makes me feel like I’ve known him forever.
I wake up the next morning later than usual, and to my surprise, I already have a text from him. 
Good morning! I had a lot of fun last night :) 
I’m about to respond when another text comes through.
Would u wanna grab lunch today? I can pick u up again
I smile to myself and start typing.
good morning!! i had fun too, and i would love to get lunch! what time?
I can get you around 2?
sounds good see you then 😁
I look at the time and panic when I see it’s already 12:30. How the fuck did I sleep so late? I get ready and before I know it, it’s 1:55 and he’s texted me that he’s here. I have to applaud his punctuality, it’s hot as fuck knowing that he actually cares enough to be somewhere on time. God, I really need to raise my standards.
I head downstairs and he’s in the same spot by the door, smiling shyly when he sees me. His fashion sense is immaculate: today he’s wearing black cargo jeans, a black T-shirt, and a white long sleeve underneath. I’m disappointed that he’s not showing off his sleeve of tattoos like last night, but I still can’t stop staring at him. 
“Hi,” he smiles, giving me a hug. He smells good, like warm vanilla, and his hug is the most comforting thing in the world at this moment. 
“How’ve you been in the last… 12 hours since I saw you?” I ask as we head to the car.
“Oh you know, just been sitting at home twiddling my thumbs until I could see you again. We’re at a three day streak now!” he tells me as he opens the door for me. 
I laugh and can’t take my eyes off of him as he makes his way to the driver’s side. “Why’d you wear a long sleeve today? I miss your tattoos,” I fake pout and play with his sleeve.
“Ohhh, you can see those whenever you want, don’t you worry.” 
God, he makes me fucking crazy. We start driving, talking about mindless things, and end up at a little diner not too far from my apartment.
“My brothers and I go here all the time, their food is so good,” he tells me as we go inside.
Once we’re seated and have ordered our food, our conversation flows just the same as it did last night, except today we’re talking about stuff that it usually takes me at least a few weeks of knowing someone before I share about. I tell him about my family, he tells me about his and how he’s never been away from his brothers for more than 24 hours, while I tell him that my brothers and I are more like acquaintances and I only ever talk to them about surface level stuff. 
“I couldn’t imagine,” he says. “Nick and Chris are like my safety nets. To be honest, tonight and today are the first time I’ve actually gone out to a restaurant without at least one of them in like… 3 years.”
“Really? I actually don’t mind doing stuff alone. I know people hate going out to eat by themselves, but I think I just grew up so independent that I’m comfortable with it. Like, my favorite thing ever is going to the movies, but if I don’t have anyone to go with I’ll just go by myself. I find it peaceful,” I tell him. 
“I love going to the movies too, but I could never go by myself. That sounds fucking terrifying,” he says, laughing a bit as he talks. 
“I get it,” I say. “Well, would you ever want to go to a movie together? It’s not alone and we both like it, so…”
He smiles. “I would love to. But if you talk in there, I’m out. We’re done. No movie talkers in my presence.”
I shake my head very seriously. “Oh no, absolutely not. Trust me, you won’t hear a peep.”
By the time we finish lunch, it’s only 3:45, and neither of us are ready to go home yet. 
He turns to me when we get in the car. “What do you think about that movie right now? I have nothing else going on the rest of the day.”
We arrive at the theater and just pick a movie at random. Neither of us have any real interest in seeing any of the ones they’re showing, but it gives us something to do together. We’re pleasantly surprised when we walk into an empty theater, so we take our seats and make fun of the trailers until the movie starts. 
About 30 minutes in, I realize that I have no idea what’s happening in the movie. I’ve been glancing at Matt the whole time, trying to pretend like I don’t see him glancing at me too. I can tell that he wants to hold my hand, wrap his arm around me, just touch me in some way, and I want to just scream at him to do something. It’s all I can think about. I shift up a little in my seat and look at him slightly. He looks at me. Without saying a word, we both know what the other wants.
He takes my cheek softly in his hand and kisses me. I immediately fall into it, our lips moving together effortlessly, our tongues colliding. But I want more. I need more. 
“Matt,” I say between kisses. “Can we go back to my place?”
“But the movie isn’t over yet,” he breathes into my mouth.
I pull back slightly and look at him with the same eyes I gave him two nights ago. “Matt. My place. Please?”
His eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.” 
I nod and giggle as he grabs my hand and rushes me out of there and back to his car like his life depends on it. Luckily the movie theater is about 5 minutes away from my apartment, and even more luckily my roommate is at work. The tension in the car ride home and in the elevator is so thick I can hardly breathe. As soon as we open the door to my room, his hands are all over me. We’re kissing messier than before; our teeth are clashing, our tongues fighting one another. He walks us towards my bed, dipping his head so his mouth reaches my neck as he begins to kiss, nip, and suck. 
“Matt,” I whine.
“Hmmm,” he hums in response, sucking a spot right under my ear. I begin to play with the bottom of his shirt, signaling that I want it off. He smirks and unlatches himself from my neck just long enough to pull it off his body before going back to what he was doing.
“God you’re so hot,” I half whisper as my hands run down from his chest to his happy trail. I grab his face in my hands and kiss him hard, then sit down on the bed and look up at him. 
“What do you wanna do?” he teases, knowing exactly what I want. I pull my shirt off, leaving me in a black lace bra, and begin to undo his jeans as he stares down at me. 
“Is this okay?” I ask, pulling his zipper down painfully slow.
“Mhm. Yeah, no it’s, um, it’s good,” he says, clearly flustered by what’s happening. And I can’t get enough.
I pull his jeans down and almost drool over his black briefs. I look up at him again for a moment, then palm over his bulge, earning a low groan from him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as I tear his briefs down as well, and I need to control my face when I see his dick.
It’s not huge, probably about 6 inches, but it’s genuinely perfect. I never thought I’d say that about a dick, but no, it is perfect. 
He inhales sharply as I wrap my hand around the tip and begin to work him, my thumb running over his slit every so often. I spit directly down on him as my hand moves down his shaft, and he groans again, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail. 
That’s my signal to wrap my lips around him and suck.
“Ohhhh, fuck,” he says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back for a moment before looking back down at me. My mouth takes him deeper and deeper with each suck, and his hips begin to buck toward me. 
He didn’t strike me as someone who would be very vocal during sex, but he’s consistently groaning and letting out soft curses.
After just a minute or two of this, he pulls my head off of him. 
“Lay down before I cum in your mouth,” he tells me as I move myself back towards the head of the bed and sit back on my elbows. He crawls over me, kissing my neck, chest, and stomach. “This is all I’ve been thinking about for the past 2 days. Can I take this off?” he asks, referring to my bra.
I nod. 
“Words, baby.”
“Please take it off,” I whine. He undoes the clasp and tosses it aside, taking a moment to stare before dipping his head back down and starting to suck on my left nipple. 
My breathing picks up as he starts to kiss lower and lower, not breaking eye contact when he removes my skirt and underwear at the same time.
He stares down at my dripping pussy, and although I’m extremely turned on and want nothing more than to fuck him right now, I’m reluctant to open my legs as the reality sets in of what’s happening.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern in his eyes.
“I just… haven’t done this in a while. I think I’m nervous,” I tell him quietly.
“I’ve got you, I swear. And if you wanna stop just tell me, okay?”
I nod. I can tell he’s being genuine; he’s not just telling me what I want to hear so he can fuck me. He really cares.
I watch as he opens my legs and hooks them over his shoulders. “You’re drippin for me, huh?” he asks, kissing my inner thighs.
“Mhm. I’ve wanted you so bad,” I barely even have time to finish my sentence before he’s putting his tongue inside my pussy. I gasp and grab his hair, my back arching which only makes him go deeper.
He moans repeatedly as he tongue fucks me, sending vibrations through my core. I’m a moaning mess, my heels are digging into his back, and it only gets worse as he brings his thumb to my clit and starts circling lightly. 
“Matt,” I’m on the verge of tears. “Fuck, don’t stop, please, oh my god— “
My orgasm rips through me with no warning, and I’m cumming on his tongue. He doesn’t give me any time to come down before he’s leaning over me, pushing my legs up so my knees are by my face. 
“Do you have condoms?” he asks, pushing my hair back.
I shake my head. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean, obviously.”
“So am I,” he says, running his leaking tip over my clit. 
I almost scream, I’m so sensitive. He looks so fucking good leaning over me. I grip his arm as he pushes into me. There’s a moment of pain as he fills me up, but it quickly turns to pleasure when he starts thrusting into me.
“Is this okay?” he asks, noticing my face and the tight grip I have on his arm.
“Yeah, just hurt for a second, but please keep going,” I breathe, pulling his head down for another kiss.
His thrusts get harder and faster with each passing minute. He fills me so perfectly, I never want this to end. I feel the coil tighten in my stomach yet again, and my moans get louder and needier.
“You gonna cum for me baby?” he taunts.
Baby. I clench around him and nod. “Uh huh.”
“Ohhh, good girl, keep squeezing my cock like that,” he groans. His thrusts are getting erratic, and his dick begins to twitch inside of me.
I chant his name like it’s the only word I know how to say as another orgasm hits me, and I’m squeezing him hard.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhhhh fuck,” he groans as his own orgasm hits him, and I feel him release inside of me, his head collapsing into my neck.
We stay just like that for a few moments, him inside of me, us both half dead and breathing heavy, before he pulls out, picks me up bridal style, and sets me on the toilet.
“It’s peepee time!” he says excitedly while clapping his hands softly, causing me to crack up.
“You just fucked me and came inside of me and now you’re saying ‘it’s peepee time’? You’re such a freak,” I tell him.
After I finish, we take a quick shower to clean up, and I get unreasonably sad as he starts to get dressed.
I walk him to my front door and he kisses me again. “Let me know your work schedule this week. We’re going out again.”
“Okay, I will,” I smile and nod as I watch him leave.
I’m definitely falling for this guy. 
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this was ridiculously long. i did not intend for that to happen. i really have no intentions of making this a full length series because i have other stories i wanna do and i have a few requests sitting in my inbox, so as the author i am telling you that they lived happily ever after yayyyyy
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