#absolutely unreal. i almost feel dizzy thinking about it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softguarnere · 2 years

Note

*sheepishly pops head around the door frame*

hiii darling, it’s me again hehe

I hope you’re well and have had a great day!!!

So I read your Bill fic where he comes in all protective and calling the reader “my girl” and I LOVED IT!! And it got me thinking, if you had the time and didn’t mind, I would love love loveeeee to have like a protective one shot fic of a lad of your choice (I mean we both know who my fave man is but it is completely up to you as I love them all and it’s truly whoever you feel you want to write for and who fits the ideas in your mind)

I just love the idea of a man seeing his girl in a pickle and knowing shes a strong, individual badass who’s literally here fighting a war and can absolutely sort it herself but definitely being the guy who’s like “nah she’s my girl, if I’m around she doesn’t need to bother handling it herself cause I got her always” I just swoon every time (and if it involves just a littleeeee bit of jealousy too then wow that’s jsut *chefs kiss*)

Hiii babe! I'm glad that you liked that fic, because I honestly had a lot of fun writing it 💕

The way that I became OBSESSED with this prompt after opening my notifications is unreal, truly. Omg, I love this idea. And since I know you like Speirs, I knew I had to write it for him 😉 I really hope you like it, and thank you for trusting me enough to write it! 😌

Ares and Athena

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Me? Making up battles for the sake of my own plot? Absolutely. This doesn't really take place between or during any particular episode, so if you're looking for accuracy, this ain't it lol. This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real life veterans!

Warnings: war, mild language, sexism, the inevitable typos that come with writing and uploading a fic in the middle of the night

This is Ron's favorite part of being in combat. The adrenaline that floods him when put into a high stress situation would make other men dizzy and unsure, but if anything, it heightens his every sensation and makes the world simple and clear-cut. Only a chosen other few would understand how he feels, and luckily, you're one of them. That's probably why you work so well together.

His heart swells when he spots you and a few E Company men in a small clearing up ahead. He stops his men behind him and calls out the challenge. "Flash!"

"Thunder!" You and your men respond, wheeling around to face him. Even beneath your cam cream and the grime that's smudged on your face, he can make out the relief that comes over you.

Relief is hard to find in a situation like this. The Germans have everyone in a frenzy, running wild, heading the wrong way, causing companies to split up as they try to reach their objective. Ron himself has a handful of his own men from Dog Company, as well as one from Able and two from Baker, and it looks like you and the Easy boys didn't fair much better in trying to stay together; he sees Bull and Liebgott, as well as Luz with his radio, and someone he only vaguely remembers from Fox Company -- a replacement, probably, based on his young looking face.

The men who know you also lose a bit of their tension. Having you and Ron together is like being led by Ares and Athena -- two fearless gods of war who seem untouchable in any battle.

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," he greets you when you unite in the clearing. "I assume that you've also had some trouble reaching our objective?"

You nod back in the direction from which you and the Easy men just came. "Kraut tanks have a strong defense along the tree line in the eastern part of the woods. We encountered a whole nest of snipers that sent us all scattering, and only a few of us managed to stay together. What about you?"

"Same story on the western tree line." Ron motions off to the left, where the trees start to thin out a bit. Beyond them, you can almost see where the greenery comes to a sudden stop, guarding the edge of a wide field. "Our objective is across that field, but we'd be totally exposed to the tanks on both sides if we tried to cross it."

A frown pulls at the corners of your mouth as you glance at the handful of men around you. "That just might be a chance we have to take."

Behind you, the man from Fox company scoffs. Your men roll their eyes at him, but Ron is surprised that you ignore him, choosing instead to pull our your map and begin unfolding it.

"If we want to make our objective in time to link up with everyone else, we're going to have to go back the way we came," the man says. "We can skirt the sniper, swing wide around the tanks, and make it to the other side of the field without the Germans ever seeing us."

"Snipers," you say without looking up from the map.

The F Company man blinks. "What?"

"Snipers, plural," you correct, turning back to look at him. "There's a whole nest of them. This forest is like their playground. Trying to sneak around them is like throwing a rock into a hornets nest and then hoping that they don't chase you." You gesture to the limited amount of men following you. "You saw how well that worked out when we found them by accident."

The man is undeterred. "I'm sure with some proper leadership we could make it through just fine."

Ron stiffens, but before he can gauge your reaction and react appropriately, Liebgott has smacked the man on the back of the head with just enough force to make the man reach up to touch it on reflex, even though his helmet probably protected him from any serious damage.

"The only way we'd stand a chance against them is if we had Shifty Powers with us," Liebgott snaps. "Which we don't. So why don't you shut up and stop questioning our Lieutenant?"

Even though you're still looking at your map, Ron doesn't miss the small smile that flickers across your lips. It makes him feel . . . strange, somehow, but he can't really place a finger on why.

The problem is that your relationship isn't exactly a secret -- it's just that you've chosen not to tell anyone about it. (The only person who either of you have told was Lipton, and that was only because he caught Ron kissing you on the forehead one night when you were all billeted in the same house. As far as he knows, Lip hasn't told anyone.)

Anyway, why should you have to tell everyone? Besides the worry that some of the officers higher up might frown on it and call it unprofessional, no one has ever said that you couldn't have a romantic relationship with another officer. And it's not like it's anyone's business but yours.

But there are times that Ron wishes everyone knew, because it might make things easier. Sometimes he thinks that if he were more casual and less self-aware, then he could joke around like the other men. If he were less conscious of holding up his front, then he could smack that guy himself.

Would you want him to, though? You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, both in and out of combat. Defending your honor isn't something you've openly discussed as part of defining the parameters of your relationship. Now he wishes that it had been, though, because watching Liebgott defend you and watching you smile makes his chest clinch with a feeling that he hasn't felt since his school days, when he was always striving to make sure he wasn't outdone.

Jealousy, he realizes. He shouldn't be jealous of Liebgott just because he told the F Company man to stop questioning you and gave him a good smack on the head, and yet . . .

"Back in my company, I'm a sergeant," the Fox Company man brags. "It's not like I have no clue what I'm talking about."

"Last time I checked, us sergeants were below lieutenants," Bull says nonchalantly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you don't question the authority of a ranking officer."

Ron leans over the map you hold and lowers his voice. "Who is this guy?"

You shrug, keeping your voice down as the men behind you bicker. "Some sergeant from Fox Company. Patterson, I think. He's been like this ever since he linked up with us." You pause, your tone hardening. "Well, ever since he learned who was in charge."

Oh. One of them, then. One of the men who didn't believe in the female paratrooper program, who didn't believe that women could rise in the ranks, and who didn't believe that they should have to listen to them. Ron thought they had gotten rid of most of them by now.

"Ranking officer or not, I cannot stand by and follow orders that will put myself and others in danger." Sensing that he has no support from your E Company men, Patterson peers around to where Ron's men stand behind him and jerks his head, urging them to follow him. "We're going back the way we came."

Ron shoots his Dog Company men a glare, but it's unnecessary -- not even the few strays from Able and Baker have even thought about moving. No one is moving except Patterson, who's turned on his heel and is about to stomp back into the eastern part of the forest.

The map makes a strange sort of slapping noise as you throw it to the ground in frustration, causing it to land on a bed of dead leaves and sticks as you whirl around to face him. Any anger you felt towards him was well concealed until that point, but now, like any officer would, you've reached the breaking point.

A point you shouldn't have to reach, Ron thinks. When male officers snap at someone, everyone always says that whoever they lost their tempers at had it coming. But whenever a female officer does it, people whisper behind her back, saying that she lost her cool and that she's overemotional.

Maybe you can handle this on your own, and maybe you've never voiced any preference for where Ron should be during your more personal battles, but he makes an executive decision then and there, that no one gets to treat you that way. And it's not because you're an officer who deserves respect -- it's because you're his girlfriend, an intimidating and powerful goddess of war, and no one gets to doubt you.

He's caught up to Patterson in a few quick strides. Fast enough that the sergeant doesn't have time to register another presence until Ron has grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Patterson's eyes must catch the name on Ron's uniform, because his eyes go wide as saucers and his face turns paler than the moon. He starts to stammer out some excuse, but Speirs cuts him off.

"The correct answer, Sergeant, is that you're mutinying. And do you know what we do to people who mutiny in the Army?"

The sergeant's eyes are still fixed on Ron's nametag. He doesn't need Speirs telling him what happens to people who don't follow orders -- he's heard the stories about what this particular man does to them.

"So I'm asking you again: where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Well, I -- uh, I --"

Ron shakes him again. "I'll tell you where you're going. You're going to fall into line behind Lieutenant (Y/L/N), follow her orders, and cross this goddamn field so we can reach our objective." When Patterson still only stutters, Ron shakes him. "Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good." Ron steps aside and jerks his head towards you. "Now salute the Lieutenant and tell her how happy you are to follow any orders she gives you."

He looks like he'd rather kiss a frog, but Patterson's suddenly shaky hand comes up as he salutes you, and, as Ron ordered, tells you that he's ready to follow your orders. He's so shaken that he even offers to go out first, if it's what you would like.

"It's my plan, so I'll lead the charge," you say before diving straight in to explaining your plan for crossing the field. "Patterson, fall in. And the rest of you? Follow my lead!"

He doesn't really have to knock on the door, Ron knows, but it's a formality that he can't shake, no matter how long the two of you are a couple.

It's late. The house the two of you are quartered in is quiet, with everyone else having easily slipped into sleep after an exhausting day.

After successfully crossing the field and reaching your objective, there had been the matter of finding the rest of Easy for you, the rest of Dog for Ron, and returning the lost soldiers you had picked up along the way. (Not to mention that Ron had made a pit-stop to lodge a complaint against Sergeant Patterson for insubordination, and then another to ask Winters for the paperwork to recommend that you receive the proper accolades for the excellent leadership and professionalism you demonstrated when leading everyone to your objective.)

But even after all the excitement, Ron can't sleep.

You crack the door open and peek out. Realizing it's him, you open the door all the way, your smile inviting him in.

"Are you staying with me?"

He's about to tell you that he just wanted to check in, that he doesn't want to get the two of you into trouble, but something stops him. How can he know where the boundaries are in this relationship if you never officially set them?

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd like that very much." There's no hesitation in your voice. It's admirable, how sure you are of everything you do.

"I wanted to talk to you, if you're not too tired," Ron admits. He perches himself on the edge of your bed, but a second later he's leaning back onto the pillows as you find a place beside him, leaning into his side.

"What about?" You have a feeling you know, but you don't know why he wants to talk about it. Ron isn't the easiest person to read.

He's glad that he thought about what to say before finding you. Other people might have hemmed and hawed to avoid a potentially uncomfortable conversation, but he knows that you're going to get straight to the heart of the matter, just like he would.

"You're a very strong woman," he begins. "I know that you don't need me -- or anyone else, for that matter -- to fight your battles for you, but I want you to know that I will, if you want me to." Beside him, you crane your neck so that you're looking up at him when he says, "I'm sorry if I overstepped today. I just wanted to be the type of man who could take care of you."

Softly, you press your lips to his cheek. "You want to know a secret, Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"Even the people who appear to be the strongest like to know that someone has their back; that someone is in their corner, ready and willing to stick up for them."

"You didn't mind that I . . ." That he what, exactly? Transformed from Ron Speirs, your boyfriend, to Lieutenant Speirs, the legend whose name and the stories associated with it keep new replacements in check?

You shake your head. "No. I don't mind. I'm glad to have someone who would take up for me like that."

"I'll do it again, if I have to," he assures you.

"And I'll be there for you, too." Lightly, you press on his shoulder so that he has to fully lay down on the bed. "Not just to fight," you explain as you adjust the pillows behind you. "To make sure that you get some sleep, as well."

He has to laugh; the only person worse about following a sleep schedule than him is you -- part of the reason you first connected, one of the first things you found yourselves having in common -- but after the day you've both had, he won't argue.

As he closes his eyes to fall asleep to the sound of your gentle breathing, he thinks about the Greek gods, and learning about them in school. Because, he thinks to himself, Ares might have fallen in love with Aphrodite, but he much prefers you -- his Athena, his goddess of war.

#My life at this point is starting fics in the school library #then finishing them in the middle of the night and hoping for the best #I hope you like this :)#ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #bull randleman #george luz #my writing #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x reader

215 notes · View notes

riahlynn101 · 8 months

Text

Whumptober: Day Twelve - "Insomnia."

Trigger warnings: Gore, semi-graphic description of fatal wounds on a child, implied/referenced kidnapping and murder, and unreality.

Takes place in the FNAF movie universe.

“You need to sleep, Mike,” his mom says. Her worry is evidenced by the bags under her eyes. The last couple months haven't been kind to any of them. Garrett’s disappearance left a gaping hole in their lives. An emptiness that can’t be fixed no matter how hard they try.

He shakes his head, turning on his side, so his mom can’t see the tears beginning to form. It’s frustrating not being able to sleep, but whenever he shuts his eyes, he sees his little brother sitting in the back of that car. Mike sees Garrett, but he can’t move. And he can’t call for help. He just watches as the car drives away.

It feels like he’s losing Garrett all over again…

“I can’t,” he mutters, voice hoarse from his excessive crying. These days, it feels like all he does is cry. “I see him.”

“Who? Garrett?”

He stays quiet, but that must be enough for his mom.

His mom runs her fingers through his hair. She leans over him, caressing his cheek. “I know it hurts now, but just remember, nothing ever lasts forever.”

Mike sniffles. “Even…even the bad stuff.” He glances up at his mom, needing some kind of reassurance.

She smiles, soothing his bangs back. “Especially the bad stuff.” His mom kisses his forehead. “Now, it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

Mike inwardly groans, returning to his very important hobby of staring at the wall.

“Goodnight, Mike. Sweet dreams.”

“‘Night,” he mutters.

Mike hears his parents talk in the hallway. Their words are muffled, but he knows by now that they’re either talking about Garrett, or Mike’s own ‘concerning’ behavior. His mom’s been pushing his father for weeks to take him to a counselor. A request that still hasn’t been granted.

Not that it’ll solve anything.

With a huff, Mike turns on his back. Nighttime is his least favorite time of day. He knows he should try to close his eyes and rest. But he can’t. His brain won’t let him.

Tonight will be no different.

He knows this.

Occasionally, his brain will shut up long enough for Mike to take a fifteen minute nap. But those instances are few and far between, especially when he knows that the only thing awaiting him in his dreams is his little brother’s disappointed face.

At the moment, it’s been about three days since Mike’s been able to drift off. Shadows dance at the edges of his vision.

He wants so badly to sleep.

Mike curls up under his blanket.

“Mikey,” his little brother whines, “I miss you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound. It’s not real, Mike reminds himself. But it’s hard. It sounds so real. It sounds like him.

“Look at me,” Garrett urges. In his sleep deprivation, Mike swears it almost feels like his little brother’s actually nudging his arm. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

A sob escapes Mike’s throat. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just open them.”

“I want to sleep.”

“No, you don’t,” Garrett says, simply. “Mom wants you to sleep.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters way more than you think.”

Mike almost opens his eyes, just to glare at his little brother. But then, he remembers he’s probably speaking to a hallucination, and Mike refuses to engage more than he absolutely has to. Even this would probably be enough to be labeled as crazy and thrown into the nearest “looney-bin.”

Garrett is silent for a few minutes, and for a second, Mike thinks maybe he’s finally left.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Mike gives an agitated groan, balling his hands into fists. Every little noise feels much too loud. Every movement makes him dizzy.

“I want to sleep,” he says in a monotone voice.

“Do you hate me?”

Of all things to say…

Against his better judgment, Mike opens his eyes. He blinks up at his ceiling. Miniature glow-in-the-dark stars stand out in the dark. His brother has the exact same ones in his bedroom. They begged their parents to buy them during a visit to the planetarium. It was one of the last “big” trips they took as a family.

“Of course, I don’t hate you….” Mike turns his head, ready to comfort his brother (hallucination or not), but the words die in his throat. Because in the darkness of his room, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through his curtains, Mike sees his little brother’s face.

Garrett stares at him, eyes foggy, dead and lifeless. The shirt he’d been wearing the day he went missing is stained a dark reddish-brown. His skin is the color of paper. And there’s a noticeable gash across his throat.

“What?” Garrett asks, bloody spittle leaking from his mouth. He tilts his head, genuine confusion on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Mike can only stare. All previous thoughts come to a screeching halt.

He can’t speak.

He can’t move.

He can’t breathe.

The room is smaller now. It must be.

“Mikey…?” Garrett reaches for him. His hands are scratched up, and when he touches Mike they’re unbearably cold.

The sudden chill jolts him back to awareness. Mike screams…

…and screams…

….and screams…

….until his bedroom is flooded with light. His parents rush over to him. His mom wraps her arms around him, murmuring nonsense comforts.

“Michael, why are you screaming?” His dad asks, concern edged into every wrinkle on his face.

“I saw him,” he mutters, voice muffled by his mom’s bathrobe. He keeps his face pressed to her shoulder, taking comfort in the sweet scent of his mom’s strawberry shampoo and the laundry soap she’s insisted on using for longer than he can remember.

“But you know he can’t hurt you. He’s not actually here. You do know that, right?” His mom asks.

Over her shoulder, Garrett watches them from the corner. He looks even worse in the light. His injuries are more severe than Mike first thought. A frown slowly forms on his face as their mom keeps talking.

His mom shakes Mike by his shoulders, startling him. He looks at her.

“Right?” She asks again, an urgency in her tone.

Mike nods his head, not breaking eye contact with his little brother. He doesn’t know who he’s saying yes to. He’s exhausted and nothing feels quite real right now. The dizzy feeling hasn’t really left, and when his mom brings him in for a hug again, he almost falls asleep on her shoulder.

His brother starts to cry, but Mike can’t bring himself to look at him.

He falls asleep, for the first time in years, in his mom’s arms.

#whumptober2023 #no.12 #“Insomnia.”#tw death #tw injury #tw kidnapping #tw blood #mike schmidt #garrett schmidt #mike and garrett #cross posted on ao3 #fnaf fanfic

5 notes · View notes

cognitosclowns · 2 years

Note

TOUCH STARVED ALPHA-BETA IS EVERYTHING TO ME

AAAA STOP I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR LITERAL CENTURIES SMNDSMDN

NSFT BELOW

GOD Y'ALL ARE GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO SCREAM ABOUT ALL MY TOUCH STARVED AB IDEAS. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULTS YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELVES

HE IS SO FUCKING TOUCH STARVED ITS UNREAL

He doesn't even know its touch starvation either - its not a concept he associates to himself bc 'Something Something Im Above Needing Anything'

'why do you subconsiously wrap your arm around your stomach and rub your side as if someone was with you if you aren't touch starved, AB' one might say. The answer to that is Shut The Fuck Up >:((

JUST LITTLE THINGS <33 he'll get distracted and just start,, passively touching himself?? (not like that you HEATHENS, that comes later smdnsmd)

LIKE <3333 fiddling with his own hair?? Pressing his palm just under his neck, running his thumb along the collarbone?? Before he shuts himself down for the night, he places his hand on the opposite shoulder so that when he wakes up it Almost Feels Like Someones There??? </3 YEAH. YEAH HE'S TOUCH STARVED. TOUCH FAMISHED. TOUCH RAVENOUS. SMDNSMD.

LISTEN JESUS CHRIST THE FIRST TIME YOU,,, TOUCH HIM YOU CAN,, VISIBLY SEE THE RUSH OF ABSOLUTE BLISS.

It wasn't even anything big?? Like <33 Reagan finally let up and agreed to let you sit in his tube for an hour, and when you were sitting yourself down your leg pressed against his side and Oops Hes Instinctively Leaning In Because He Wants More But,, Also Doesn't Know How The Fuck To Ask For More???

LISTEN HE'S A STUBBORN BASTARD. VULNERABILITY = WEAKNESS AND HE CANT ACCEPT THE IDEA THAT,,,,,, HES ALLOWED TO FEEL THINGS AND ENJOY FEELING THEM.

GRKKRKGR <333 him laying on your chest??? Like he'd never ask but,,, he just slowly keeps gettin closer and closer and eventually you just wrap your arms around him and coax him into this half-cuddling, half-hugging position??

HE HESITATES FOR,, A SOLID MINUTE??? Like you can SEE him battling his pride bc,,, Oh No Vulnerability.

Coo out a little,, endearment or pet name though?

his whole body <33 completely slacks in this gorgeous relieved sigh. He shudders a bit here and there but,, <33 mostly he's still. He accepts his defeat with grace <33

he doesn't even start huffing or scowling?? Like,, His Yearning For Touch completely overrides his pride. <333 in this moment he's a hopeless romantic mess for you, and maybe that's okay <3

OH BABEY the first time you play with his hair is a religious experience. It looks like he's about to faint?? his eyes just,, instinctively close w/ this massive shudder. You might even catch a low moan or two, if you have nails <333

LISTENNNN <33 REAGAN SAID AN HOUR ONLY BUT <33333333 yea it ends up being most of the afternoon bc she peeked in on the security feed and... tbh shes never seen AB that happy, she's not gonna interrupt that.

<333 HE UNDERSTAND WHY MOVIES MAKE FIRST KISSES LOOK SO DRAMATIC BECAUSE HO-LY FUCK. YOU AUDIBLY HEAR SMTH INSIDE HIM SNAP FROM HOW FAST HIS FANS ARE GOING.

His shoulders and brows just,, raise and raise and raise at first?? It's like this full body Shock??

<33 he <333 he didnt <33 he didn't think they'd be so soft <3

BUT LIKE THE MOMENT HE REGAINS BRAIN CELLS HE'S LEANING IN. TABLES TURNED.

he forgets you need to breathe bc hes so invested in it <333

like every time your head dips a little to catch your breath his head weaves down <333

EVEN WHEN YOU DO PULL BACK TO BREATHE, HIS LIPS ARE GONNA BE LIKE,, ON YOUR CHIN N BOTTOM LIP??? He breaks into smiles at random intervals just bc of how Dizzy With Love he feels??

<333333333333333 this man doesn't half-ass anything, especially not kissing <333 expect some <33 very long kissing sessions <333

GRRRKKRKR <333 ROBOTS <333 MEN <333 GNASHING OF TEETH.

HE <333 HEEEEE <333

IVE BROUGHT THIS UP AGAIN BUT LIKE <333 oh heavens just feeling your hands on his skin is enough to make him dizzy <33

running your hands along his back while he fucks you?? Or if you drape your arms around his shoulders while you ride him???? His eyes always unfocus a bit <333

LIKE <333 nah during sex he wants as much skin touching skin as possible. You're pretty sure he'd crawl inside u and hide there forever if he could lmao, he loves having you close <333

YOU WOULDN'T EXPECT IT,, BC,, YKNOW, HE ACT LIKE THIS TOUGH SNARKY ASSHOLE 80% OF THE TIME??? But Super Cuddly Sex is absolutely his jam when he wants,, smth more intimate.

NOT ONLY because he's secretly a sap but <33 oh the physical contact <33 feeling the little vibrations under your skin, the changes in temperature?

YKNOW WHAT??? I think he'd love cockwarming for that exact reason - not only for the delightful sensations, but like <333 he's so very close to you?? <3333 eee

His idea of heaven is lazy saturday morning cockwarming <333

JUST <333 the two of you pressed close under Massive Covers, his dick vibrating inside you?? Soft kisses here and there, all pretzeled around eachother?? Being close enough to hear every noise you make?? Your skin feels so soft and warm in the morning, that it almost feels like he’s standing in front of a fireplace? <3333 YEAYEAYEAYEA THAT'S LITERALLY HIS JAM

Whenever I write about this man, my brain cells completely escape my body. This is a formal apology SMDNSMDND

#alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta #alpha-beta x reader #robotus alpha-beta x reader #nsft #minors dni #inside job #AAA IM SOFT FOR TOUCH-STARVED AB #EVEN IN A NOT NSF.T KINDA WAY??? <333 LIKE JUST IN GENERAL #HIM BEING IN LOVE WITH BEING TOUCHED <333 PHYSICAL AFFECTION IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE AND ALSO LTIERALLY EVERYTHING TO HIM #GUH <33 HES JUST <333333 HE ADORES TOUCH. GRKKRKRKKRGKRKK HES BEEN SO DEPRIVED OF IT.#SOBS I WANNA WRITE A CUTE LAZY MORNING FIC W/ AB <333 where like #reader falls asleep in his tube after Reagan let them go inside for a bit #and <333 he didnt wake them up bc they looked too perfect to disturb <33 #OR LIKE <33 EVEN JUST CUDDLING W/ AB??? like him hesitating at first bc Grr Hes Supposed To be Scary #but then you start playing with his hair and he's as docile as a baby deer??#<333 #THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULTS DAMMIT SMNDS YOURE ENABLING ME #WITH ALL THESE DELIGHTFUL ASKS <333 #GUH <33 IM SO GLAD MORE PPL ARE FALLING IN LOVE WITH AB IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY #<333333333333333 #i want to romance the robo man #fluff #<3333 #every once in a while im like 'i write too much ab' and then i realize #MOST PPL ALREADY KNOW I LOVE AB LIKE WHO AM I HIDING FROM LMAO #SNMDSDMNSD #LIKE MY FUCKING PFP IS AB WHY WOULD ANYONE BE SURPRISED TO FIND THAT MOST OF THIS BLOG IS AB HRONYPOSTING-#long story short im the clown of clowns #MY WRIST HAS RECOVERED AND IM LIVING THE LIFE

89 notes · View notes

dragoneyes618 · 2 years

Text

shine and gleam

He was kneeling on the wooden floor. The wood was clean, but rough-Anthony could feel it rubbing his knees even through the fabric of his pants.

She was sitting by her desk, the chair half pulled out, staring wordlessly at him, eyes wide-she knew what was coming. There is only one reason why a man gets on his knees before a woman, unless she was a queen or he was begging for forgiveness, but Harriet was not a queen-she was a captain, yes, wielding ironclad and absolute authority over her own crew, with great influence over much of the Isle as well, but she was not a queen, and captains did not require kneeling. And Anthony had done nothing to wrong Harriet. So that left only the one option.

One of his hands was in his pocket, rubbing the item he had there. His fingers were shaking. He thought about putting his other hand behind his back, then reconsidered. He did not want to hide anything from her, not even his nerves.

"Hear me out," he whispered. His mouth was dry. All the flowery elaborate language he had been practicing in his head for the past month seemed to have disappeared. "Please."

She nodded, once, her fists clenched, knuckles white.

"I-I admire you," he stammered. "I respect you. Tremendously. You are my captain, you are the captain of this whole ship and everyone on it and even some people not on it. You-you're strong, and fearless, and you-but you don't let that get in the way of caring for your family. You're the captain of your own ship, half the Isle owes allegiance or favors to you in some way or another, but you still care for them. That's one of the things I admire about you." For Anthony, caring about one's family was very important. He hoped he was explaining that well, because to him it didn't sound like it.

Harriet nodded once, again, her eyes twitching. She wrapped a strand of black hair around her index finger, and then unwound it and dropped her hand.

He licked his lips. "I-I've known you for some time, and I-We are the oldest of our generation," he said, and Harriet nodded again; she, older than Anthony by a scant few weeks, had been the first child born on the Isle.

"They call us VKs," he continued, "but we're not kids anymore-and we are the oldest. I don't think we really ever were. I-the barrier is open now, Harriet, and we can leave. The ship can sail the high seas."

Harriet nodded again, her eyes looking at something in the distance-that had always been her greatest dream.

"The-" He licked his lips again. "We-Us, the children of the Isle-we can have a future now. We are no longer condemned for our parents' crimes. We can have a future. We can have a life. And I-" His heart was pounding, and he felt almost sick with nerves. "It would honor me tremendously if you-if we would have that future together."

He took a ring out of his pocket.

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't expensive. It was a simple tarnished brass ring.

It had been his mother's wedding ring. She had liked Harriet. She was dead now.

Even though Harriet knew it had been coming, her eyes still widened upon seeing the ring. This moment felt unreal, but the ring seemed to ground it in reality.

She was suddenly glad she was sitting. She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand.

"We can have a future together," Anthony continued. "We can build a family together. We can sail free on the seas. We can take care of your family, my family, the whole crew. We-"

He cut himself off, suddenly, and took a deep breath.

"Harriet," he whispered. "Will you marry me?"

Harriet stared at him, at the small circle he was holding.

She thought of her siblings, and her father, and of Anthony's siblings, and his cousins, and of the entire crew....and of the barrier, struck down forever.

They were no longer children of the Isle. They were adults, and the world was theirs.

She smiled.

Several meters away, CJ and Dizzy pressed their ears to the closed door.

"What did she say?" Dizzy whispered.

"Sshh! I'm trying to hear!" CJ admonished.

"Did she say yes?"

"He just said something about how this treasure is hers now, but it's not worth nearly as much as she is-that's the ring, right? He gave her the ring!"

"He gave her the ring!" Dizzy repeated, literally jumping for joy. "That means she said yes! He's been practicing for ages! Oh, I'm so excited-I can help Evie plan Harriet's dress for the wedding! I want to be the flower girl! And then when they have kids I'm going to have nieces and nephews! Ooh, I have to go tell everybody!" She ran down the hall in search of the rest of the crew to tell them about their captain's impending nuptials.

"I'll have nieces and nephews!" CJ corrected, calling down the hallway after the younger girl. "You'll have first cousins once removed!"

She turned back to the door to be met by the sight of Harriet Hook standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes like ice, with the addition of a brass ring on her right hand.

CJ offered her older sister a sunny smile. "Hi!"

#harriet hook #anthony tremaine #dizzy tremaine #cj hook #calista jane cj hook #calista jane hook

34 notes · View notes

whyarewecalledtheshipname · 3 years

Text

Kh3 spoilers:

LOL I wrote the crack thing, posted it to ao3 with a T rating just bc there are some implications here in the form of jokes, warning in case anyone's not comfortable with that.

Summary: Data Sora and Data Riku get sent to Riku's phone to accompany him on his ventures through Unreality. Riku is appropriately lost.

This is short so we don't get any shenanigans past their first meeting.

~~~

“Hellooo?!”

Riku stares at his gummiphone screen, unblinking as a little romper-wearing Sora taps on the screen from what seems like—the inside.

Beside the little Sora is a little him, a little Riku, in a black coat instead. “Stop screaming or he won’t answer the phone,” the little Riku says tonelessly. He’s typing directly in front of the gummiphone screen (or, behind it?), but squinting somewhere off to the side, as if at an adjacent display.

“You said to call him, didn’t you?”

“You know I didn’t mean like that.”

Riku misses the first “call”, perplexed as he is, but the second call comes with even more yelling—first from the little Sora, then from the little Riku at the little Sora—and Riku is compelled to answer. He taps at the green icon on his phone with an unsteady finger, and is blinded by the little Sora’s smile, now unobstructed by buttons.

“Wow! Look how big you are, Riku!”

The little Riku in-on-behind the screen glances up at Riku for only a moment. The little Riku’s mouth twists as if he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or not.

The little Sora reads the little Riku perfectly. “Aw, c’mon Riku. It’s still you! It’s a compliment! Be proud!”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Sora. Worry about—uh, the other me...He’s probably confused.”

Riku makes a noise, because confused doesn’t even begin to describe the dizzying mesh of emotions in his chest.

Little Sora turns back to Riku—the big one—and his grin turns sharp. “Let me handle this, Riku.” (He’s still talking to the little one.) “If I let you explain, he’ll probably end up asleep again.”

Little Riku gives Little Sora a mildly offended glare. “Hey, it’s my job to know the ins-and-outs of the datascape; the data chose me.”

And Riku is immediately attuned to the little Riku’s words, and to the little Sora’s reaction. “Hey, don’t say that. Sora’s trying to help.”

The little Sora and Riku both look at Riku, then—truly look. The little Sora glows, and the little Riku finally looks appeased.

Riku doesn’t know how to feel about having his younger self’s little...smirk...turned on him. And the light in Little Sora’s eyes definitely makes Riku feel unsteady on his feet. But he stands his ground.

Sora takes a moment longer than necessary to start talking again. “Thanks, Riku. But my Riku’s—” and Riku chokes a little at the phrasing, “—just saying that because I’m always making fun of him because computers are lame.”

“Your existence literally depends on computers—” the little Riku interjects.

“Yeah, but they’re still lame. I’m the only reason you have any fun in here, huh?”

The little Riku suddenly stops typing because his fists are clenched, and he turns the color of little Sora’s romper. He sneaks a peek at Riku, but the little Sora spots it and cackles.

Even big Riku almost misses the moment Little Riku pulls up his hood, it happens so fast.

“We’re data versions of you,” Little Sora says once he’s stopped laughing, “but I bet you knew that already. The others usually call me Data Sora, and this is Data Riku.”

Riku nods after only a beat of silence.

“We got sent to watch you!” Data Sora announces brightly, as if Data Riku isn’t visibly having a meltdown right beside him, even under the hood. “Uh—! Help you, I mean. King Mickey definitely did not send us to keep an eye on you since you left all by yourself, because he definitely wasn’t super paranoid that something would happen to you, and if he was, he definitely didn’t tell me not to tell you.”

Data Sora crosses his arms behind his spiky head, and Riku doesn’t remember his own Sora being such a little brat. Oh wait, yes he does.

Just the thought of Sora reminds Riku of where he is, and why. The idea of finally finding Sora here makes him feel like he can do anything. It’s been a sensation he’s missed this past year.

Riku looks down at Data Sora, and comes back to himself. For some reason, Data Sora looks as smug as they come, and Data Riku has his hands at his temples, as if in disbelief. Or, maybe embarrassment.

“Alright,” Riku finally says. “But why send you? If anything goes wrong, couldn’t I just let them know myself? I know you guys weren’t on—in—my phone when I left, so clearly there’s still some kind of signal between here and there.”

“Look at you—me—using your brain.” Data Riku seems to have finally recovered from whatever fit Data Sora had induced, and of course the first thing Data Riku does is try to sound like he’s been chill this whole time. “But you’re still wrong. The data of your phone can still be accessed and updated even across worlds, or realities or whatever, from the main servers. But signals like the ones you’re thinking, for audio or video calls, can’t reach you here.”

Data Riku has pulled his hood back down, probably just so Riku could see the smug look on his face. “Your phone would be a useless brick here. Lucky for you, I’ve already accessed this world’s data through the kinds of signals they have here, and adapted the phone’s data accordingly. I might have to change it again once you get back, though, so don’t make any friends here you intend to keep.”

Data Sora, who’s been falling asleep, suddenly has something to say. “Hey! Don’t tell him that!” He’s pouting, though, not frowning, so neither of the Rikus bothers to reassure Data Sora. Data Riku just shrugs with his eyes closed, and when Data Sora turns to Riku as a last resort, he shrugs as well.

Data Sora crosses his arms, huffing. “Two Riku’s, and they both suck.”

For some reason, Data Sora grins, and Data Riku absolutely panics.

“Nonono, don’t, Sora! Don’t say it! I will actually delete you!”

It’s as if Data Sora doesn’t even hear the threat. His grin just gets sharper. “But Riku, then what’ll you do for fun?”

Data Riku releases a tortured sound, smashing frantically at his keyboard, and the screen goes dark. Data Riku didn’t just end the call, he shut down the whole phone.

Riku’s perplexed face stares back at him from the dark screen, and he wonders what in unreality is going on in the datascape.

42 notes · View notes

fandomdaydreamer · 3 years

Text

The Lighthouse and The Ocean

Pt 8

You Love Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Warnings: mature content

Summary: Just two friends battling a hangover and trying to make sense of their last encounter. Their very unsubtle feelings for each other will make it impossibly harder for them to try and make their sex scene less weird.

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Hiii, I know this chapter is late af, forgive me. The four main reasons are my finals, my job, plotholes and.. a fucking flood?? I also feel guilty about the tease (again) but when I said slow burn... I meant slow burn, ehehehe!

Length: 9.2k

You Love Me

Two painkillers hit the bottom of my glass and fizzled up into the water. The birds outside were chirping a beautiful melody I couldn't even appreciate. I was disorientated and an utter mess, dropping back on top of the sheets in nothing but my underwear.

The first signs of an upcoming heatwave made me anticipate that everything would soon become twice as uncomfortable. I groaned and folded my pillow over my ears and eyes. It was too loud... everything was too loud, too bright, too unreal.

My phone's alarm went off and I scrambled up to look at the clock. "Kut!" I cursed and almost fell off my bed to find my laptop. I knocked over my guitar and the noise almost burst my head. Focus, I told myself. I would miss my skype call with Tom in the next two minutes if I wouldn't get online right fucking now.

I turned on my old, noisy laptop, threw on a t-shirt and combed my hair with my free hand to make myself the least bit presentable. My quick movements made me dizzy and sick.

The skype chime rang and I hit the receive button to see a sweet baby faced and friend shaped man appear on the screen. His smile and waving hand dropped instantly when he took one good look at me. "Hey happy late birthday, Nin- Oh dear, you look like absolute shit." he laughed at my crappy appearance.

I whined with my hand clutched onto that abominable headache behind my eye, he leaned in closer to the camera. "Are you alright?"

I couldn't really smile at my best friend, even though I was happy to see him. "Agony." I dramatized.

"Well, sounds like a perfect birthday hangover."

I was horrified about what I saw in my own window on the screen and I wiped my thumb under my eyes to get rid of the remaining mascara. "I suppose it is."

I changed into a delighted singsong, sounding like an overexcited child. "You wouldn't believe it, Tom. I thought I was about to have the most miserable, sad one-woman birthday party far away from home but then Pedro and the others threw a surprise party for me!"

He beamed. "No way!"

"We danced and talked until early in the morning and we got so pissed. Booze. 'Massive' amounts of booze." I accentuated my words by exaggerating the amount of alcohol we had consumed by spreading my arms wide apart. After Tom's laugh ebbed away, I dropped my hands back into my lap. I felt like my thoughts only caught up with me a second later and I felt like I had forgotten something important. "Actually, I think I might still be drunk."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there." "Yeah, you could experience this hangover with me. Thank you for the new laptop by the way. You're amazing." I grabbed the package that had been delivered to me yesterday morning and held it in front of the webcam. It contained a brand-new laptop from Tom. How considerate of him.

"You're welcome, remember not to download anything before you haven't installed an antivirus first." He joked, recalling our last movie night.

"I know." I leaned over to grab the glass of water on my nightstand and slowly drank the remedy, ignoring the bitter taste of painkillers, which was still a million times better than whatever other taste I had left in my mouth. I wanted to return the glass but the cute photograph of Pedro and me on my nightstand stopped me in my motion. Why did it startle me so much?

"Are you sure you can work today after that legendary night?" Tom asked, connection slightly lagging.

I slowly turned back to my laptop. "I don't know, love. I used to handle the mornings after better. I guess I'm getting older." I managed to both frown and smile. Why did I have this lingering feeling of uneasiness? It was like I was missing a part of my memory but I couldn't put my finger on it.

My gaze drifted over to the vase with the beautiful pink rose Pedro had given me yesterday morning along with my present. A nagging feeling of dread began to slowly catch up with me like my brain was slowly trying to put two and two together.

I mentally counted yesterday's events. There had been this wonderful morning when Pedro had gifted me this rose and the most adorable picture frame ever... my anxiety during the day, thinking it all went to shit and then the lovely birthday party, eating, dancing, drinking, playing the guitar... absurd chatter concerning a deal with Third Man Records... something else had happened. I didn't even remember how I got into bed. I remembered laughing with Pedro but it was all a hazy dream.

"Nin?" "Huh, what?" I snapped back into reality.

Tom was eying me in suspicion. "Are you even listening?" he asked. "Yeah, totally." I lied.

"No, you were miles away. What did I just say?" He quizzed me, leaning closer to the webcam.

"Something about work?" I guessed wrongly.

"What happened?"

I was trying to figure that out myself. A fleeting image of Pedro’s face up close to mine crossed my mind and I recalled his hands exploring my skin, the heat between our bodies and tangled limbs... WAIT, WHAT? My head snapped back towards my door and a hand flew up to my mouth. "Oh, no!" I squeaked as it violently came rushing back to me.

"What? What is it?" Tom yelled.

I could only repeat my previous exclamation, over and over. Embarrassment about what happened last night seeped into the deepest pit of my soul. I couldn't believe my dazed memories but they were most definitely not lying. I folded my body and crumbled under the realisation of what had occurred between the hallway and my bed.

Tom urged me to say something. "Nin? You're scaring me."

I dry heaved and forced myself to calm down. "I'm sorry!" I tried to excuse my actions without giving Tom any context yet. "Oh, I... I was really drunk."

"Yes, yes, I know that." "I wish I had either drunken less or significantly more because my current situation is not ideal." "Why, what did you do?"

"You whAT?" Tom yelled, flabbergasted. There was a rumble and something tipped over on his desk. It was like he tried to stabilise his body by gripping the edges.

Memories of heated kisses invaded my mind. I sought out the feeling of his lips tracing my neck. His hips had thrust into mine when I dug my fingers into his hair. I had been dying to meet the bulge underneath his denim jeans. I let out a high-pitched sound.

"I just- we uhm..." I stuttered and gestured towards the door. "Pedro and I- we... we were making out. My memory is a bit wonky but I think we almost hooked up, I-"

I would have laughed at his comedic reaction if I hadn't been so mortified. I remained silent until I heard Tom calling out my full name.

"We didn't go any further but- oh my goodness, he has officially ruined every other man for me. Just kissing him was the best feeling in the world." I tipped my head back and let out a sound of frustration.

"Wait, he kissed you back? Nin?"

My eyes remained closed as I lolled my head down again. "He's such a good kisser. I can't stop thinking about his-" I wet my lips, not giving a damn about how I kept dumping unwanted intimate details on Tom. "Strong grip and dominance. I fucking knew he had this in him! Did I beg at one point? I-"

Tom interrupted me with a sour expression on his face. "That's it, you belong in horny-jail."

"And I should get a life sentence too because the way I threw myself at him was embarrassing. He was so sweet yesterday, making me feel so special and we've been such good friends and what if I have ruined that now? I have to go down for breakfast in a minute and I think I'd rather let someone take me out, right now. Just-" I mimed blowing my brains out.

Tom sighed deeply. "Darling, it sounds like you're falling in-"

"Don't say it."

"I'm gonna say it." I hid behind my hands and peeked at him like he was about to rip off a band-aid. "-falling in love. Accept it. Frankly, I saw it coming."

His words struck a chord in me. It was true. "I am. I am utterly and completely in love with him. Oh, Tom, what am I gonna do?" I sobbed, really not knowing what to do with myself.

"Well, don't look at me like I got answers. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Sounds like you got to take care of-" he pointed his finger up and down at me through the screen and cackled. "that... first."

I glared at him. "Rotjoch."

"Gesundheit." There was a sudden racket on Tom's end and he got distracted by a noise in his room. He stood up from his chair and revealed that he was not wearing any trousers. "Hey, sod off, I'm on a bloody skype call!" Somebody was yelling out a rude reply.

I leaned over like I could spot the person who had entered Tom's room, probably his little brother. "Was that Henry?" I inquired.

He leaned back over the webcam. "Yeah, I think he needs help or something. Call you next week?"

"Yea, I think I'll-" the connection broke and I was left with a blue screen. I dropped my shoulders, posture deflating. "-need it."

"Say hi to your family for me." "I will."

"See you, Tom!" "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Good luck."

One step at a time. First, I really needed to pee, take a shower and put on some clean clothes. Then I'd worry about Pedro.

~~~

When I came down for breakfast, looking more like myself and less like a swamp monster, I glanced around the corner into the communal area. They were sitting at a table inside to escape the scorching morning light.

I let out a sigh of relief when I realised the gang was missing the presence of one particular member I wasn't keen on facing so soon. I relaxed and left my hiding spot. My hand was still clutched onto my forehead in a hopeless attempt to stop the throbbing pain.

Two third of them were wearing sunglasses and the rest was still missing. The look wasn't anything unusual for Jim but he was oddly quiet behind his mug of coffee. "My boys." I greeted them.

"Speaking of the devil." Old tomcat Waits was his usual self. Either the alcohol didn't have a lasting effect on him or he didn't have as much to drink. "We were just talking about how nobody should mix tequila and beer, ain't that right, Chiwetel?" he teased him.

"Beer before liquor, never been sicker," the Brit replied in a tired voice.

I sat next to Bill and decided not to comment as I watched him crack one raw egg after the other out of a full carton and into a glass of milk. I shared a concerned look with Chiwetel, whose dark skin seemed a bit grey this morning. He moved slowly and grabbed a carafe with orange juice.

He poured a second glass and shoved it over to me. "Have some vitamins, dear. You need it," he said lowly, pushing his shades back onto his nose.

"Thank you." I sniffed at the drink and felt a sharp smell stinging my nose. "That's... not orange juice." I noticed with hoarse breath and coughed.

"Ayurvedic bullshit." Bill snapped, movements thrice as quick as anything I could comprehend. He shook some kind of salty smelling dark liquid into his own hangover cure and stirred it with a spoon. It turned a greenish-grey colour and I almost gagged.

The corners of Chiwetel's mouth turned downwards in disgust. "How can you drink that, you daft old man?" he asked Bill like he was out of his mind.

"You get my age and see how good you can handle a hangover without this stuff." Bill pinched his nose and gulped down half of his tall glass. Chiwetel, Jim and I watched in horror. Tom laughed.

"Excuse me, what exactly is this?" I asked Chiwetel, pointing a finger down at my drink.

He raised his own oddly coloured, spicy juice while Bill recovered. A chill went down the older man's spine and he jerked his head, shaking his entire face.

Chiwetel continued. "That, my dear girl, is orange juice with ginger, lemon, cayenne pepper and curcuma. Now that works wonders- Oh hello, Pedro. Good morning." he got distracted.

I knitted my eyes shut at Chiwetel's words. A familiar presence approached our table and I took notice of his heavier than normal motions behind me. Pedro was pulling out a chair and sat down right next to me with a deeply tortured groan. I didn't look. I couldn't.

"Mornin'." he rasped out. "I don't think Tilda is going to make it down anytime soon. Can't even blame her."

Jim slowly massaged his temples. "I guess that means we can't shoot today. But... I thought maybe we should take it slow anyway. As fortune has it, some kind of critter has chewed through the pool hydraulics and it doesn't pump any water. We will have to have it fixed." he sat his mug down and sighed. "There's always something. No pool scene for a couple of days, at least."

"Oh," I exclaimed, sounding too pleased. The others looked at me. "-I mean..." I changed my tone of 'oh' to a sad one and quickly gulped my orange juice. It burned my throat and I felt like I was able to breathe fire. My spine straightened, suddenly I was wide awake. "Bloody hell, and she's back, hello!" "Told you."

I couldn't handle spicy things very well but I already felt better after the second sip. It gave me something to focus on.

"I'll have what she's having," Pedro said in awe and Chiwetel poured him the remaining juice.

Jim continued like he hadn't heard us. "-Which also means that we're going to switch the scene schedule and shoot the sex scene-" I choked on my drink, slowing Jim down in his announcement. "-between Raguel... and Starling this instead of next week."

I coughed a few times, swallowing harshly. Pedro gently clapped on my back in an attempt to help me use my windpipe. When I finally looked at him for the first time after last night, I saw a mixture of bemusement and mild concern on his face. He was in quite a rough shape himself, hair a mess and dark shadows under his eyes. He was probably not done using pain pills just like me.

"Spicy." I rasped out, trying to put it on my drink. "Sure," he was unconvinced and sipped his juice like it contained only oranges. He knew me well enough that my eyes silently begged him to kindly fuck off.

Jim continued. "The change of schedule won't interfere with our due date. If you two are up for it."

To be honest, everything but the pool scene. I took a deep breath to make sure I was able to speak again. "Yeah, of course." I agreed in a professional business tone.

Pedro cleared his throat and leaned forward to let his elbows rest on the table. "When?" he asked.

"Friday. We all feel a bit... under the weather. I might just find a cool, dark place somewhere and make adjustments to the camera instructions."

"Yeah, it's really hot already. I think I might hit the hotel pool." Pedro announced. "Anyone care to join?" he looked at me after he had stood up from his chair. How gladly I would have taken him up on his offer but there was this issue with me and chlorine, which he didn't know about.

I stammered, looking back and forth between his face and extended hand. "I, uh..." When I tugged my hands under my armpits in a protective manner, he dropped his arm, slight confusion and maybe a little bit of disappointment evident on his face.

"I will!" Chiwetel threw in and stood up.

I gave Pedro an apologetic smile as both got ready to head outside. "I think I'm good, thank you," I replied in as much of a light tone as I could muster.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Ok. Well... see you around then." He looked like he wanted to say something else, mouth opening and closing and hand flying to the back of his head, ruffling his chocolate curls. When he turned and left down the hallway, without grabbing a single bite to eat, I was left wondering if I had hurt his feelings.

I couldn't read Tom's face but something told me he was the kind of empath who immediately knew what was going on. Before I stood up myself, I downed my glass and without another word, I left towards the empty hallway, wondering what I'd do with my day off. I decided I could maybe head towards the library but when I turned around the corner, I almost ran into a broad chest.

Pedro leaned against the wall in an expectant manner. I gave him a half-hearted smile and turned to find another hiding spot. "You're avoiding me," he called after me.

Instead of running away, I faced him with a clueless expression. "No, I'm not. I have no idea what you mean."

Pedro raised his hands, signalling he didn't mean any harm but he soon relaxed and let his arm lean above him while the other rested on his hip. He was somehow towering over me without being threatening. "Yes, you have. You're mad at me." he insisted, tilting his head with a slight pout.

I cooed, saddened by the fact that he honestly thought I held some kind of grudge against him. "No. Oh, lieverd." I used the endearment, slightly squeezing his arm. "I'm just... awkward and hungover and... embarrassed. And I expect that won't go away for a bit, not after the way I behaved last night. I don't know what to do." There. I had said it.

Pedro’s pout twisted into a wicked smile. Oh, no. I knew that face. "Well, I can think of one or two things." he mused.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, do you now? Me too, you know."

He was almost irresistible with his hooded eyes and the slight flex in his jaw. "Entonces pregúntame, nena. If there's anything I can do to help then all you gotta do is ask."

I didn't know how obviously I was struggling to keep in a moan. Luckily, I managed to swallow it and act like he didn't know how to turn me on in an instant. He was giving me a hard time when he was eye-fucking me like that. "I got a better idea. How about you just leave me alone?" I suggested with feigned bitchiness instead. I proudly crossed my arms and began to turn away from him.

Pedro managed to keep me with him by capturing my chin with his finger and thumb, grinning like a smug devil and making it clear to me he wouldn't let me off the hook that easily. "But that's not what you wanted me to do last night, am I right?" he murmured. I could only hold my breath and try to focus on something else other than my fleeting heartbeat underneath his fingertips or the throbbing in my lower regions.

Ok, that was it. I swatted his hand away, whispering inches away from his lips and I looked up into his mischievously glinting eyes as I spoke. "You're a terrible, terrible person and I want you to know that." I pressed out. He laughed lowly. "Oh, no, you love me."

I raised my voice in disbelief at this bold assumption. "Love you?"

"You love me and you just won't admit it." he bickered with me, back and forth. How dared he rub in the truth? I wanted to leave again but he caught my hand and made me spin around back at him just like our dance the night before. The look on my face made his shoulders shake with laughter. "Don't worry, I'm just messing with you."

My mouth had become a desert nevertheless. "You, sir, can suck it forever!" I hissed and grinned as I twisted my body out of his arms, betraying that I still adored him no matter what a cocky bastard he had become all of sudden.

"I'll think about it," Pedro replied before I was about to leave him behind.

Oh, I couldn't let him have the last word, could I? I took brisk steps back towards him. "You! You..." I lowered my voice again, making sure nobody would be able to hear us. It was my turn to back him up against the wall with a slight shove of my finger. "Let me remind you that it was 'you' who decided to leave me all alone last night. You have no right to be so... so..."

The corners of his lips curled up in amusement. "So... what? Tell me."

"Infuriating! You drive me crazy, Pascal. I am still mortified about the way I behaved, ok? I am enormously sexually frustrated. I wish..." I couldn't say what I really wished for. I wished he hadn't left. I wished I could someday wake up in his arms the way it had been denied from me this morning.

For the first time, Pedro seemed serious. "Call me old fashioned but I don't think one shouldn't take advantage of a drunk woman. No matter how tempting she is."

I hummed impatiently, secretly knowing that he was right and I would most likely not have remembered it if we had ended up shagging. "Always the gentleman. I suppose I should thank you but I won't. Not after that cruel exit you made."

I would have been able to cut the atmosphere between us with a knife and I felt his gaze prickling my skin. Now that we both had confirmed that we wanted each other, everything we said and did only emphasised that we were due. It was like a ticking clock hung above our heads that counted down every second until we would eventually end up in bed together. I would have to decide if I wanted to save our friendship and return to the way we used to be or dive headfirst into... whatever this foreplay was.

Pedro’s fingers brushed mine and I wouldn't dream of pulling away now. "Too bad, I suppose you won't let me make it up to you." he guessed, head tilting like he was trying to find the best angle to kiss me. His deep voice and the sheer proximity was maddening.

I let go of my lip when I realised, I had been biting it sore. "Certainly not. It's my turn to leave you high and dry." I pulled away from him and he pouted again. If this had been a game of chess, my move would have been checkmate.

He smiled like a good looser as we parted ways. "Fair enough," he said.

"See you at dinner?" I tried a compromise in a chipper tone and we grinned at each other as if nothing happened. It was nothing special, we dined together almost every night.

"Count me in." Pedro was already out the door when he threw a wink back at me. He stepped out into the sunlight and put on his sunglasses.

It took me several seconds to recover. When I was sure he was gone, I let out a shuddering breath before I was able to collect my thoughts and remember what my original destination used to be. I needed a distraction and some solitude.

Time passed and the day only became hotter. I had been engrossed in my crime novel when I heard a noise coming from the garden. I stood to investigate when I heard Pedro’s familiar laugh.

I approached the window with my book tugged beneath my arm, a fond smile playing on my lips when I took in the scene before me. I chuckled to myself at the sight of Pedro in a t-shirt and swim trunks as he played with the hotel owner's two small children in the shade. The little girl and her older brother were kicking a football across the grass and they were giggling and squealing as they fought over the ball. Pedro played the defeated adult after he had captured the ball and he let the kids climb his back like a mountain. They had forced him to the ground and buried him under their small bodies.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly fall any harder for that man, I was proven wrong again. I couldn't understand what he was saying to them in Spanish but he seemed to have given up. He raised his hand and groaned out a sound of fake misery. The children adored him for it.

"He's quite something, isn't he?" A smooth voice beside me commented and I jumped. Tilda stood beside me, looking out the window herself towards Pedro and the children. The taller woman, who I thought had been upstairs in her room with a terrible hangover was sipping on a cappuccino, steady gaze fixed onto them playing together. She was equally delighted at the trio and I looked back to see that Pedro was kneeling in front of the little girl. He put the ball down on the grass and encouraged her to kick it.

He was unaware of our observation. Pedro cheered when she kicked the ball. "I had no idea he was so good with children," I replied with a hint of a happy sparkle in my voice.

He had picked up the giggling toddler and pretended to snap his teeth at the chubby little hand she pat him across his face with, nearly poking out an eye.

"Look at them," Tilda said in amusement and I was startled again, sorry that I almost hadn't heard her above the sound of my exploding overies. "He likes you very much, you know."

"Yeah, me too," I replied quietly, almost choking on my words. Pedro ruffled the boy's hair with one hand as he carried the little dark-haired girl on his other arm. Their mother looked up from her rose bushes to meet them halfway with a winning smile.

I already knew he was a wonderful person and I was sure he would have been a great father too. I was saddened by the fact that the child who would have been absolutely spoiled with his love didn't exist. The realisation clouded my mind a little. I hadn't really thought about being a parent myself since the man in my last relationship already had four children and before that, being a mother just never occurred to me- but now? Pedro was everything a good man ought to be. I was surprised to find myself considering a domestic life all of sudden... with Pedro. A warm feeling spread from my heart through my whole body. Maybe... one day.

~~~

I spent the time before the shoot mostly in denial until the very moment I was presented with my costumes. The first was a nice white dress and the second... well... fitted into the palm of my hand. I suddenly became hyperaware of the fact that I would be practically naked in front of Pedro.

I distracted myself by memorising the tiny scribbled notes I had written next to my lines. It was a method I always used to create little impressions and help me picture my characters' inner turmoils better.

*The angel runs over my dead-end feelings*, it read.

I stored my script away and stepped onto the tiny green 'x' that marked my initial position. Pedro stood on the yellow cross.

"And... ACTION."

Raguel's hair was still tousled by the desert wind when he had come to visit Starling in her room. We picked up the scene where we left it. His eyes were full of sorrow as he eventually told me the truth. "You were killed, Starling. This is the afterlife. Or at least... a trial."

I smiled for a second, convincing the camera that I thought this was just a poor joke. I continued to collect my stuff around the room. "What are you saying? I'm going home tomorrow." I stopped packing when I noticed he was staring at me. My smile faltered as I tried to understand what this was about. "Raguel?"

He replied slowly, choosing his words carefully, in his always poetic way of speaking. "You set out on your journey back home, runaway girl, with regret weighing on your mind but there's no baggage to tow anymore and no trail ahead of you. You will never return."

It slowly started to dawn on me that he wasn't lying. "Killed?" I repeated weakly and then I seemed to remember. My eyes drifted into nothingness as I recalled the past. "That man..." It was true.

He nodded sternly.

Panic started to crawl under my skin. "-I just woke up in this bus that brought me here. What will my family do? My... father. Oh, why did I go? Why did I go?"

"I'm sorry." "Who are you?" "I'm an angel."

"Yes, I suppose you are." I made a face like it all made sense, trying to protect myself with a final but failed attempt of irony behind my veil of tears. "If I'm dead then why does this feel so real?" I almost asked aggressively. Starling recalled the darkest place she had ever been. There, deeper, all the way deeper where she refused to look, there was a light.

The angel stepped closer. "You are. Still real. You are the quintessence of the things left undone, unsaid, not lived, not loved. Only deep regret leads people to Azazel. She judges who is fit to follow the dark path."

"So there is a destination meant for me after all." I choked out a bitter laugh.

Raguel seized my arms. "I waited for you to make a decision, to do something. I waited for you and I burned in return. I didn't expect you to be... so lovely. I want..." He reached out to touch the warmth of my skin. "I want... to disobey. These times I learn I'm tortured." "Angels don't talk like that," I whispered.

"They also shouldn't feel the way I do." "What do you want from me? Smuggle me into your heaven? Don't make me laugh." My voice was laced with bitterness and deep sorrow. I cracked. "It's too late to fix me and rewind the damage I've done. You have to give me up."

In his own, intensely gloomy way, he became nearly desperate. "I can't."

Now stronger than ever, Starling felt like a stranger with a name she couldn't remember. "I don't even know what I am to you," I said, hugging my arms around me.

He gently connected his forehead with mine, closing his eyes, he tore my last protective wall down. "You are... my obstacle, my blessing, an ever-lasting memory that summons my thoughts towards my infatuation. Knowing that I can't save you tears me apart."

A tear rolled down my cheek. "But you already have." I sobbed, grieving that I had found love without a future. "How can I mourn the loss of heaven when you are right here?"

His thumb gently traced my cheek to wipe my tears away and the expression in his eyes send warmth through my entire body. "How can they not see how beautiful the light inside of you is?" Raguel said as he stared into my soul and the cameras didn't see me breaking character, for his words had melted the real me right then and there.

Pedro looked at me through his eyelashes, love and adoration so magically real. Why did I keep falling into his eyes? I snapped back into my role and only Pedro himself could have seen the subtle change.

For the first time, Starling felt home when he kissed her. I felt a familiar pull in my stomach at the sensation of his lips on mine, moving slowly and sweetly. It was easy to forget the cameras when I closed my eyes and poured my entire love for Pedro into the kiss.

My head was spinning when he stopped to look at me but I had a job to do.

No words were spoken as my fingers dove under the shoulders of his leather jacket to pry it off. His eyes never left mine and calmed my grief about my lost life. I stood to watch his reaction and when he didn't push me away, my hand travelled to the first button of his shirt. His eyes never left mine as he let me undress him.

Starling was vulnerable, her bravery leaving her the moment Raguel slipped his finger under the strap of her dress and let it fall off her shoulder. A tear spilt onto my chest and I sealed my sob by kissing him like there was no tomorrow. I put all my yearning for a real connection into the contact as he pulled me impossibly closer. Soon his black button-down had followed onto the floor and Raguel only momentarily separated from me to pull my dress over my head and attack my lips with more eagerness. He lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his hips as he carried me towards the bed, where he crawled on top of me. We surrendered.

"CUT!"

Maybe it was the nerves but Pedro and I both started giggling at each other.

I tilted my head despite the limited space for me between his forearms. "Was that ok? I didn't hurt your back, did I?" I asked, distracting us from our half undressed state.

Pedro shook his head. "No, don't worry. I did stretch before this." He was still looking down at me but eventually shifted into a new position, arm supporting his weight next to my body. I ran my hand through his hair tenderly. I would have loved to imprint his soft smile into my brain forever.

"Then let's do it again."

Eventually, Jim was content with the build-up and we moved on to the third and final part of the scene. Pedro and I were both in bathrobes, hiding our state of undress from the skeleton crew and ourselves. There were only a couple of essential people including him, me and well... the sex scene choreographer. Betty was a sweet person but with all these people present, it never wasn't weird.

It wasn't like I hadn't done this before. Sex scenes were part of the job and just like any other scene so why was this so awkward and hard and so... exciting? The latter, I had never experienced before under these circumstances.

I wished we wouldn't have to do this.

I wished we would do this in real life. Alone. I had wanted Pedro so bad, especially these past few days that I felt the need to slam my fist against the wall or sink my teeth into a pillow and scream. I had long lost count of the many curses I had repeated in my mind while I was crouching on the floor and petting Besos, the set-cat.

Pedro made jokes, he made me laugh and part of me knew he was only being this goofy to calm my nerves and make me more comfortable. He had turned his back to me and flashed Besos.

The cat looked up at his open bathrobe and yawned, which made me laugh so hard they had to reapply my makeup.

"Somebody get the cat out of here," Jim ordered in a bored voice while checking the camera angle and Pedro chimed in. "Yeah, this isn't a fucking peep show, Besos. Vete!" we chuckled at the cat, who skedaddled away.

Betty stepped in. "It usually helps to just hang out naked for a while, but you already know that, right?" I noticed the other crew members left the set to give us some privacy. "This too." she offered us a tray of shot glasses with a clear liquid.

"Ah, no thanks," I said and Pedro shook his head as well, gesturing for her to take them away.

"Ok." I jumped up and down like I was getting ready for a box fight. "Ready?" I stood in front of Pedro, gripping my bathrobe around the edges. He grinned and raised his shoulders. "Ready when you are."

"Three- two-" I counted backwards, and after we both said 'one' we dropped the robes, revealing our nudity.

I got rid of the bathrobe to reveal... well... almost everything. I was only wearing a tiny nude vag-pad and I couldn't help but cross my arms in front of my chest. Pedro on the other hand was looking into my eyes and eyes only. But Betty gave me an encouraging look and I dropped my arms.

I let out a huff of breath. "No big deal. Boobs, whatever." I gestured to invite him to take a look at me, so he glanced down and I was relieved at how chill he seemed to be.

He on the other hand wore something they called a modesty pouch which male actors used to cover their... crown jewels with. Otherwise, he was just as exposed. When I stole a glance, I barely managed to not widen my eyes. He surely was 'packing' underneath that horrid piece of cloth.

We both started laughing awkwardly.

Jim stepped in, blessing us with a distraction. "Hey, are we feeling cool about this? Betty, wouldn't you agree that we should slightly cover them with a thin sheet when they're on the bed? I want to reveal more by showing less."

"Yes, please lie down, you two. I wanna see your arms around him, mainly his shoulder and head area and you Pedro, just worship her like your life depends on it." Betty ordered. She continued to run us through every movement in a way that was about as sexy as following a road map.

I hopped onto the bed, ruffling through my open hair like Betty instructed and making room for Pedro. Before we could be tucked and torn into the right position, I pushed him back into the pillows one last time while I was still being myself. He looked surprised at my initiative but didn't seem like he was able to comment. I stared down at him, hoping he would catch the amused twinkle in my eyes. For a moment, we were hidden from the world by the curtain of my hair.

"This one isn't for the cameras," I told him before I gave him a chaste kiss. His lips were left pursed when I lifted myself off him after I had lingered for a second longer to keep staring into those lovely dark eyes.

"Look at you. I think we're done being nervous about this, aren't we?" he noticed with a smirk. Pedro regained control by flipping us around, making me squeal when he accidentally tickled my sides. His eyes widened. "You're ticklish." he noticed for the first time. "No?" I lied. Too late.

I automatically tried to defend myself but he was squeezing my sides again. He elicited another high shriek from me and chuckled at my newly discovered weakness.

"Pedr- Please, n- no!" I was a giggling mess. It felt like he was wrestling me around until he had finally trapped me underneath his body. Both his hands were pinning mine down into the mattress, right beside my head. He was much stronger than me and therefore, my chances of struggling free were limited. But it also meant he couldn't continue tickling me. I recovered slowly, laughter still rolling off the both of us and I realised I had never in my life felt more comfortable with a scene partner. Pedro freed me before I could start enjoying our position in a whole different way.

Betty chimed in from somewhere behind the cameras. "You ready?"

I tried to block out the cameras following us, already filming by now. "Yeah!"

"Do you wanna go for a beer and cheeseburgers when we're done... dry humping?" Pedro asked innocently as he positioned himself between my legs.

"Absolutely," I answered and he gave me a radiant smile. My hand was a fleeting motion across his smooth, toned chest, curiosity getting the better of me and I stole a glance down his happy trail, seeing his hip resting against mine in a harmless position. Betty was draping the thin white bed sheet over my legs which I used to wrap myself around him until our lower halves were covered.

"Scene 45, take one." someone said. The clapperboard shut and Jim announced. "Action."

The mood shifted in an instant as Pedro transformed into an angel desperate for the girl lying underneath him. He planted longing kisses on my breasts while grazing the soft skin with his thumb.

Of course, I was aware of the team, the cameras and the lighting but I couldn't help myself; every single one of his kisses felt like he was jump-starting my heart. The instructed gasp came naturally to me when he brushed against my nipple but he didn't give me a moment to breathe before he pressed his mouth onto mine. Skilled fingers kneading, first at my torso, then my hips, my ass and eventually inner thigh.

How on earth could this not be real? His lips were moving so sinfully over mine, tongue diving into my mouth, teeth nipping at my bottom lip and sucking. I would soon call myself addicted to the feeling of his moustache tickling at my skin and I sighed, delirious from the sensation of his hand lifting my knee higher.

I needed to focus on our characters and recite my own notes in my head.

- He is a man poisoned by love, his look of steel, elusive. Under that moody and rough exterior, lies a gentle lover able to worship every inch of my body and soul as he runs over my dead-end feelings.

Dear God, I hoped my little pad was reliable enough to hide the growing clamminess I was unable to control. Even with the cameras, just Pedro touching me was more than my body could handle without risking my urgent need to give in to my primal instincts.

He smelled a million times better than any perfume or other scent in the entire world. He tasted better than anything my tongue had ever experienced. His kiss was searing hot and so close to the real Pedro. This was exactly the way he had kissed me on the night after my birthday. His tongue was probing mine, showing me I would never crave another man's kiss ever again.

His hips ground forward and- oh.

Feeling his hardened cock underneath the bundle of cloth against my thigh made me buck my hips upwards into him involuntarily and I met his covered length with the heat between my legs.

Raguel... Pedro groaned against my lips. We couldn't do this over stimulation but he had to raise his body a little higher, this time... and I emitted a short moan as we acted out the intrusion.

We were limbs, wet kisses, stolen friction, heat and arousal and I tried to fool myself into thinking that I was just really being my character. It was all too much and it wasn't even real. If this fake intimacy was this intense, how would the real Pedro act, I asked myself.

The sheet slowly flowed off our bodies, revealing more and more of our pretended connection while he moved his hips in a steady rhythm. It was then that Pedro lightened up the mood by humming a melody I recognised. He was singing a Fleetwood Mac song while he was humping me and I messed up the take by breaking into laughter. We had to stop filming.

Pedro immediately rolled off of me and hid a shy smile behind his hand. He rolled his eyes in annoyance with himself, covering his crotch with the sheet. "I'm so sorry about that. That's unprofessional." he excused his erection. Betty approached and sprayed us with more fake sweat.

Poor man, I thought. "Hey, have I told you the story about the day I found my grandpa's dentures in my yoghurt?" "What?" Pedro got startled by the mood swing and he looked at me like I had grown a second head. He soon began to wheeze and triggered my piggy laugh with it.

After our little break, things got easier and the atmosphere sterilised. I had told him all the gross details, which made Pedro smile at my subtle attempt to turn him off. It worked though and we were soon ready to continue our scene.

I met each and every one of his thrusts with Starling's need to cling to a soul that radiated the warmth of the sun. Raguel seemed to treat every second like there was no time and we had to speed up the truth in one magic rush.

I had to tear my eyes open when he groaned one final time as his very convincing orgasm rippled through his body. He melted into the arms of a fire that was meant to fade out without him. I cradled his neck as he buried his face into my shoulder. Pure bliss and pleasant morphine dreams illuminated my face as I pretended to calm down from the highest possible feeling in the world. Raguel exhaled with a shuddering breath, hips bottoming out like he could still chase another rush of endorphins. I held him like he was the only real thing left in my world and we just lay there panting softly. The largest part of our scene was all about the afterglow and I actually enjoyed doing that.

I felt worshipped by his gaze alone.

The camera was nearly poking into our faces.

"CUT!"

I propped myself up onto my elbows, still panting and looking like I had been properly ravished. I had long stopped caring about our nakedness. I smacked my lips, trying to regain my ability to articulate. "By the way, why 'The Chain'?" I recalled his random musical addition to our scene and we laughed. "Just an attempt to distract myself." he dropped into the pillows and exhaled deeply. Then he chuckled. "Though your story was better."

"Hey, it's alright," I propped my hand under my chin and let my arm rest on his chest. "Stupid human bodies and automatic functions. I told you I was comfortable doing this with you, didn't I? I trust you. You have full permission and I'm not weirded out. Don't worry."

His awkwardness was soon replaced with a growing fondness in his eyes. "Thanks. You know, I've never told you how nice you are."

"Hm, you love me." I parroted his words back at him, earning a genuine smile. I got into a sitting position. "But seriously, you think you're the only one? How do you think I feel? Jesus Christ. All of this for a thirty seconds scene." I would have to excuse myself to go clean up and change my pad.

Jim walked over, interrupting Pedro’s revelation by subtly clearing his throat. "We will need a few more takes to make sure we don't have to come back for a reshoot but you were nearly perfect. Try a little less tongue next time."

"Got it." Pedro and I both said. "Jinx!" We added simultaneously, pointing at the other.

We were up for the next round.

~~~

We hadn't forgotten about our little cheeseburger plan and I was famished by the time our shoot was over. The hotel didn't serve burgers though and I figured we would have to go somewhere else. I anticipated the evening beyond measures when Pedro told me to meet me in the lobby in one hour.

With the sun gone, the temperature dropped to a comfortable level. The night offered a tiny bit of relief from the sweltering heat throughout the day and yet it stayed gloriously warm and clear.

I spotted Pedro waiting by the entrance and he looked twice as I descended the marble stairs in my light and flowy summer dress.

I blushed at the way his jaw had dropped a little. "You look wonderful," he told me and I grinned as I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my braid behind my ear. "Thank you. You clean up nicely yourself."

"Thanks." Pedro looked down at his attire like he hadn't realised. He had rolled up the sleeves of his deep purple button up and I had to admit that it stretched rather nicely across his chest and biceps.

"I'm curious where you're taking me. I've been wanting to hit the town for a while now. It seems perfect tonight."

The expression on his face though was apologetic. "Well, there's something I got to tell you. Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"

My face fell. "Oh, dear. The bad news is that I have to make a decision first." I joked and made him laugh. "The bad news, please." I cringed as I took the arm, he offered me. We walked in the opposite direction towards the hotel's gardens.

"They won't let us go downtown for safety reasons. You know, high risk of crime, possibly kidnapping, especially after dark. I'm sorry." Pedro said and I let out a tiny 'oh'. If I was being honest, I wasn't surprised and maybe a tiny bit relieved. That did sound logical. After all, Mexico wasn't the safest of all places but the rebel inside of me had thought Pedro had maybe found a way to smuggle us out of here and hunt for cheeseburgers.

But now I didn't know what the plan was. "So... we're not going out?"

"The good news, however-" he led me outside towards the rose garden. Quiet Latin music played somewhere in the near distance and I squinted my eyes to investigate the hidden light source behind the bushes. Pedro lifted a branch and revealed a magical place.

Soft candlelight illuminated the area around a table for two underneath the tree that had been conquered by white roses. The garden had been transformed. Colourful lampions hung above our heads between the branches and I was purely mesmerised and entranced by the sheer beauty of it all. "Pedro..." I began but words failed me. Nobody had ever done something like this for me.

Pedro on the other hand was watching me closely, lights dancing in his dark eyes. "Do you like it?" he asked, awaiting my reaction.

I knew my eyes were sparkling with too much emotion. "I love it. I can't believe you did this."

He pulled out a chair for me. "With a bit of imagination, we could pretend to be in a restaurant somewhere downtown." He suggested. When I was seated, he silently offered to pour me a glass of ice cold cerveza and I nodded, still in a slight daze from the romantic ambience.

"Was this what you meant when you said you wanted to make it up to me?" I asked.

"Maybe," Pedro answered mysteriously as he sat down opposite me.

We lifted our glasses for a toast above the neatly placed dinner table. "Well, it's a bit fancier than I expected but I guess we can get some cheeseburgers another time." I winked at him in good humour, raising the glass to my lips the same time as he did. What did he look so happy about?

The familiar waiter, a young lad I had come to know as Miguel came out of the bushes. He carried a tray topped with one of these fancy silver lids you would normally expect to be presented with in a place like Buckingham Palace. "Oh, what's thi- AH!" I interrupted myself with a sound of astonishment. There were steaming cheeseburgers and chips underneath. "Surprise!" Pedro cheered and laughed at my perplexity.

I could kiss him right now. "You're without question, the most amazing man I've ever met!" I told the delighted man in front of me.

It was a wonderful dinner, just the two of us. We talked and shared stories as we ate and it wasn't the first time that I thought I could spend every night with him, just like this, for the rest of my life.

He chuckled. "I enjoyed myself too. Who knew that working here would feel more like a holiday sometimes?"

It was late in the evening when Pedro escorted me through the garden back towards the villa.

"I had the most wonderful time," I spoke out my thoughts as I walked side by side with him. I leaned against his shoulder as I held onto his arm and he covered my hand with his.

"Certainly, with rendezvous like that. I could get used to it." I snuck my hand into his broad palm and felt butterflies ignite within me when he held it in return.

"I should take you out for dinner more often then." "It was a date, then?" "If you wanted it to be." He gave me the option.

"Yes," I replied as we reached the stairs. I was still holding his hand by the time I felt him tugging me back.

Pedro didn't move further and I turned around, a little confused why had stopped following me. I stepped down again, finally understanding. It wasn’t like my response had killed the mood; it had just made him more cautious, now that we weren't fighting our attraction towards each other anymore.

I didn't need to ask him why he decided to stay, for I knew he wouldn't want to let it seem like he expected to immediately take me up to my room after our first official date... not after the scene we just finished shooting. He was just being considerate and indeed, we were in no rush. I saw by the look on his face that he understood what was going through my head as well. If my impression was correct, we both cared too much for each other for this to be just a brief fling.

He smiled softly when I stayed on the first step of the stairs. Now at eye level with him, I rested my arms on his shoulders. "Thank you for tonight," I said and felt his arms sneaking around my waist to pull me closer.

"My pleasure." he purred. It felt like the right thing to do when I placed a soft kiss on his lips. He returned it for this brief moment that left me with a slight tremble to my hands. It was a short, innocent kiss that only mystified what we were. Our fingers were the last to part before I went upstairs alone.

Part 9

Translation notes:

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

(dut): lieverd - (eng): darling

(dut): rotjoch - (eng): little shit/punk

(ger): gesundheit - (eng): bless you

(sp): entonces pregúntame, nena - (eng): then ask me, baby

(sp): vete - (eng): get out

27 notes · View notes

ttttaehyungie · 4 years

Text

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 5

previous | next

series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, smut, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 5.2k

chapter rating | 18+

warnings | angst, smut (but it’s angsty smut lksjdflk help), nipple play, dry humping, alcohol consumption, someee intense jealousy

a/n | FIRST OF ALL im so sorry this is so incredibly late lskjdflkjs life has been extremely busy for me 😪 but it’s here!!!! thank you to everybuddy who’s been waiting patiently for this 🤧🤧 but i think this is one of the most angsty chapters of the series soooo 🙃

Namjoon’s an expert at avoiding uncomfortable topics, even if they’re massively serious. It’s something you absolutely hated and it was the cause of many arguments in your previous relationship, and perhaps was even the ultimate cause of your breakup.

But right now, you’re really beginning to understand the appeal.

The first time he swung by the museum for lunch after his birthday celebration - a paper bag in hand filled with bagels still warm and toasty from the store on the corner that you adore - you were caught entirely off guard.

Your mind jumps to the unread messages sitting in your texts and you regret ignoring them. Not because the guilt had hit you, but because maybe if you had been contactable, you would have received a heads-up that he was coming by.

Some might call it selfish, but you prefer to call it self-preservation.

To be fair, it’s not like you were going to leave them unanswered forever. You just needed space to collect your thoughts and make sense of your confusing emotions first, lest you begin the conversation prematurely and drag Namjoon down into the dizzying depths of your current state. As it is right now, your thoughts are like nodes floating in a decontextualized void, the web still unformed because you haven’t had the time to grapple with everything yet.

But here he is, inspecting the cross-section of each bagel Soo-eun pulls out of the bag, trying to identify which is which. Yeri’s at his side, gushing about how great the bagels from this place are. The three of them are crowded around the paper bag that sits on the wooden bench, the paint peeling from the way it’s been bleached by the sun in the museum’s outdoor area. Here he is at your workplace. With your friends. You can’t ignore him now, not without rousing your friends’ suspicion.

But what you can ignore is the issue.

It’s not the time nor the place to talk about this anyway. The atmosphere is warm and light, carrying traces of last night’s celebratory mood. The lunch treat is Namjoon’s way of appreciating the surprise you guys organized for him last night. And there’s a bagel stuffed full of salty sweet ham and sticky melty cheese waiting for you to sink your teeth into. Really not the time for serious conversations at all.

So when Namjoon’s eyes search yours, all wide and probing, as you step in to grab your share, you simply smile and thank him, before slinking away to join Soo-eun on the next bench. Not too far - barely five steps away - but far enough that it gives you space to breathe. Even if Namjoon notices your attempts at escaping, he doesn’t have time to call you out on it. Not when you slyly shoot Yeri a wink. Seamlessly, she catches the cue and sits herself down on the bench, tugging at his arm. For once, you welcome Yeri flirting with Namjoon.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says.

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s gaze flickers between you and Yeri, but you ignore it and take a generous bite of the bagel in your hands.

“Mm, so good,” you say, and turn to Soo-eun. “Don’t you miss the days before this place got really popular?”

“No, because you and Yeri insisted on going there every day. I can only ingest so many bagels a week.”

“____ hasn’t changed one bit.” Namjoon chuckles. “This time in middle school, she ate tater tots every single day for three weeks straight. She had to be banned for a week.”

“Are you weaponizing my middle school past against me?” you ask amidst your friends’ laughter. “Too bad. I don’t regret it for a second. Tater tots are too delicious to regret.”

Lunch falls back into the easy rhythm of lighthearted jibes, the kitchen debacle receding for now.

Procrastination is a real bitch of a habit to kick. As soon as one reason to put it off expires, your brain churns out another two in its place like a modern-day Hydra.

As for Namjoon? Well, you’re not surprised when he makes no moves to initiate the difficult conversation. After all, you’re adopting his bad habit.

Eventually it gets to the point where you might as well not talk about it at all. Everything’s going fine so far without it. Or as fine as it can be with this beast looming in the backdrop.

You know you need to just get this damn conversation over with. But you can’t. Not till you figure out what exactly is going on with your emotions. Without it, there’s no way you can cauterize the wounds and invalidate your excuses for what they are -- excuses.

It’s not that you haven’t tried. But it’s presenting itself as a real Herculean effort. Mulling it over has you tossing and turning in bed, only leaving you with a headache and a steadily growing desperation. It’s desperation enough that you leave the comfortable warmth of your bed to sit at your desk, shivering as you pen the familiar words once again.

Dear Namjoon,

The words flow in their usual, unrestricted manner. Before, it had been like a dam breaking, the tight restraint that was normally kept on your emotions finally released and the wave of emotions gushing out till it reached a peaceful equilibrium. But now, your emotions are just a whirlpool and your words you pen mimic its spiralling, chasing your thoughts in endless loops.

You’re not over him. But so what? It’s not like getting together is an option. Not when he hasn’t grown out of one of the major things that caused the end of your previous relationship. And not when you haven’t even talked that out, if you ever will.

So what can you do now? Kicking him out of your life will mean having to deal with the loss that his absence will bring again. Going back to pretending the other doesn’t exist will mean dancing around each other again every time you bump into each other in this too small city. And with the way your social circles are intertwined now, that would mean a bunch of explaining to do.

But having him close yet holding him at arm’s length? Walking the narrow margin that is being friends with your ex? A misstep in either direction would be torturous but inevitable - too close and it’s alarming, but too far and it’s a painful reminder that he’s not yours.

Far from the illuminating effect you were hoping it would have, your letter to Namjoon only leaves you deeper in confusion. You throw your pen down. Giving up, you fold the paper up. Sealing the letter in an envelope doesn’t bring the same sense of relief it did before. The Hydra remains unslain.

And so the problem gets shoved away - the same treatment the letter gets as it’s roughly tossed into the desk drawer - into the same corner of the recesses of your mind that your breakup resides in.

You know that Namjoon’s confused. Heck, you are too. It’s a strange dance the two of you are involved in, caught between the compulsion to continue yet knowing the risks it bears. Neither of you are bold enough to take the lead. And so this strange stasis drags on as it has for weeks now.

It’s as if the kiss unearthed something in him. Actually no, it’s unearthed something in both of you. And the tension - the fucking tension - is unreal. The tells are so obvious that you wonder how neither Yeri nor Soo-eun have said anything about it yet. There’s certainly no subtlety in the way his eyes linger on your lips in the middle of conversations that you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it.

And when it’s just the two of you? It’s infinitely worse.

It’s hard to blame him. Touch has always been your love language and Namjoon knows it. Physical touch wasn’t just a thing of your previous two-year relationship. It was a thing of your decades of friendship too, the little touches so casual and almost subconscious. Rekindling your friendship without them had taken intentional effort.

You’re not sure who started it. Maybe both of you just fell back into it, the casual little touches slipping their way back in. But what’s not casual at all is the way your heartbeat goes erratic at the most simple of gestures. The way he blithely sweeps the crumbs from your lunch off your lap. The slightly too long side-hug he holds you in, the warmth of his arm around you permeating through the layers you wear and has you simultaneously freezing up while also turning your insides to goo. But it isn’t overtly romantic either.

At least, that’s the excuse you give yourself when the comfort of his touch gets too tempting and you end up succumbing to it. The familiarity of it all makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived home. As if you’ve been on this long, arduous journey and you’re finally here. You get to drop the heavy backpack and rest now.

But the voice of rationality in you tells you this wrong wrong wrong. You’ve got to get out of here.

And that’s how you end up here. White-knuckled grip tight on the edges of the sink as you stare yourself dead in the eyes in the bathroom mirror. The music outside thumps away albeit muted through the door to the ladies’. But the way your heart thumps has nothing to do with that.

Even without shifting your gaze, you can tell that your cheeks are slightly reddened and warm. You can feel it tingling. No, you don’t shift your gaze. It stays fixed on the intense stare that your reflection throws back at you like a challenge, the ferocity of it enhanced by the sharp eyeliner you’re wearing tonight, an uncharacteristic look for you.

Heck, this whole night is uncharacteristic.

You could take the easy route and blame it on Yeri. God knows she can be real persuasive - it’s why she’s excellent at her job. So getting you all out to the club on a Friday night to celebrate nothing other than the simple joy that - c’mon guys, we’re all young and alive and free and tell me that’s not worth celebrating and I’ll fucking fistfight you right here and now even with my freshly manicured nails - is no feat for her.

Still, no one really expected your simple reply, tone nonchalant and eyes still glued to your work screen, “Yeah, I could use a night out.”

Soo-eun had remained silent but you could feel her stiffen slightly beside you. Yeri had been surprised too but more elated that she didn’t have to get through your usual ten solid minutes of whining and half-baked attempts at slithering your way out of it.

But back to the present. Your bodycon dress - one of the rare pieces that survived not just your college partying days but also the wardrobe purge that occurred when you had to downsize everything to fit into the tiny apartment that’s quintessential to city-living - expands with your chest as you take a deep breath. Gripping the hem where it sits mid-thigh, you yank it down slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve worn this dress. And while the younger, more risque version of you that was your college self had been enthralled by the daringness of the dress, your current self has to dig deep to muster up that same boldness.

Relenting as you realize that this is the limit to how much you can stretch the length of your dress, you let go and your fingertips unintentionally brush your thigh as it falls back to your side. It elicits a shudder, the sensation of your own fingers too close to the electrifying feeling of someone’s thumb skimming across it. It was electrifying enough that your brain finally powered up again, voice of rationality sending you skedaddling away, out of reach of his touch, and pathetically seeking refuge in the washroom.

You roll your shoulders back and shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. Standing upright, you look yourself in the eye again. You can do this. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to have a good time with your friends. You’re going to have a good time with Namjoon. With a nod of affirmation, you turn and saunter your way back to the club with a confidence that has your chin firmly tipped upwards.

You push the door open and look for your friends. The sight that greets you immediately punctures your confidence and your steady posture falls limp.

It’s hard to miss her silvery dress - the dress you knew she would wear and the dress that your very own was meant to counter. It catches the light and grabs attention. And at this moment, it grabs your attention so you can witness Yeri standing between Namjoon’s manspread thighs as he’s perched on the barstool, her hands all over him.

Whatever puffed up confidence you’d had is knocked out of you with that sucker punch of a sight. You turn away, needing to look anywhere but at them.

And that’s when your line of sight falls on a curly-haired man, oddly familiar, and apparently someone you know since he’s waving to you.

“____, hey!” he yells over the music.

“Dong-In?”

He nods and smiles at you. “It’s been a while.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “I was supposed to get back to you on brunch, wasn’t I?” Damn. You’ve been so wrapped up with Namjoon that you totally forgot about Dong-In. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been really caught up with things.”

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugs boyishly. “The exhibition, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sure, the exhibition. Let’s go with that.

“And nothing to do with…” he directs his gaze - and yours along with it - to none other than Namjoon who’s now drinking with Yeri.

Your gaze snaps back to Dong-In and his cheshire grin.

“Nah,” you feign a laugh. “He’s just a friend.”

“The hand he had on you sure didn’t look like just friends.”

“I said we’re just friends,” you snap, then gasp, taken aback by your own outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I hit a nerve there, didn’t I. D’you wanna talk about it?” His voice is warm and mellow and oh so inviting. And you very nearly give in.

But you can’t pull him into your problems. It’s not his burden to bear.

“Not really. But thanks, Dong-In.”

“That’s cool.” He nods, and relief fills you. This is what you’ve always liked about Dong-In. He’s chill. “Well since we’re here, wanna get buzzed?”

You laugh. “I won’t say no to that.”

The bar isn’t too far from where you are, and it doesn’t take long before the burn of alcohol is sliding down your throat. Picking up the conversation again, you have to admit, you’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to Dong-In. He’s got that effortless charisma and an easy sense of humor that you can vibe with. Things are simple with him. There’s no line to be tiptoed. Flirting - now that you’re no longer obtuse and you’re finally aware that he is indeed flirting with you - isn’t accompanied by guilt or fear.

And after weeks of this complicated situation with Namjoon, simplicity is what you crave.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” you ask suddenly. Surprise colors his features for a moment but he laughs it off.

“Is the conversation boring you? You could have just told me to shut up if you wanted me to,” he jokes.

“No!” You laugh. “There’s just a good beat going and-”

“I’m just kidding. I’d love to.” He smiles and grabs your hand.

The two of you weave your way through the mass of gyrating bodies. Lightly buzzed, the fog and the strobe lights blurring everything around you other than your dance partner, you finally find the courage you’ve been searching for this whole time. Dong-In hasn’t been very subtle about checking you out all night, and it gives you that extra boost of confidence that’s finally quelled the antsy thoughts and calmed the fidgety adjustments to your dress’s hemline.

So when his hands find your waist, you step in a little closer and run your hands through your hair, shaking it out and finally letting loose as your hips rock to the pounding beat. Dancing with Dong-In is much like conversing with him- easy and simple fun with just the slightest tinge of excitement. As your hips sway together in languid synchrony, you catch a whiff of the slightly intoxicating combination of his cologne and the undertones of his own natural scent. You give in to the giddying sensation of his hands running lightly over your body and press in closer, eyes fluttering shut, and just feeling. It’s thrilling. It’s risque. It’s-

A solid grip on your wrist yanks you forward and stumbling into a hard chest.

His voice is gruff as he bites out his words, “Get your hands off her.”

“Namjoon?” you gape.

“We’re leaving.” His eyes fix on yours, steely and piercing. A shiver runs down your spine - in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him like this. He tugs on your wrist once more. “Now.”

Dazed by this brand new persona, you don’t even get to say goodbye to Dong-In, just pulled along by the force that is a quietly fuming Namjoon. Everything happens so quickly that it’s all a blur until you’re in the Uber with him, silently clutching onto your purse as an anchor in this sudden whirlwind of events. The anger emanates off of him even in the dimly lit backseat.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, but the shock diminishes the level of conviction in your voice.

He turns to you, the same hardness still in his gaze. “I should be the one asking that.”

“What?!” you snap. In your peripheral vision, you see the Uber driver jump slightly. Lowering your tone, you hiss, “What gives you the right?”

“What gives me the right?” he echoes incredulously, scoffing and turning away from you to face forward instead as he rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

The car slows to a stop and you recognize your apartment building. You scramble to get away from him. But it seems your confrontation is far from over. Namjoon unbuckles his own seatbelt to follow you.

Terse silence sits between you, the aggravated stomping of your feet as you climb the stairs the only thing that fills the sound.

You turn sharply round the corner, stalking off to your apartment door. “You don’t have to escort me y’know, I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”

“Really?” He folds his arms and leans on the wall next to your door. “It’s hard to trust you when you go off getting drunk and throwing yourself at a random stranger in the club.”

“Is that what the problem is?” You finally ram the key in, and the click as it unlocks is as harsh as your tone. “Sorry to break it to you, but I have a life apart from you. He’s no stranger. His name is Dong-In, he’s Yeri’s friend, and he’s a great guy.”

You shove the door open. Your heels get kicked off and left haphazardly at the entryway, shoe cabinet ignored.

“Wow, some great guy he is,” Namjoon slams the door shut and his shoes get discarded off his feet in the same fashion, “drunkenly feeling you up in a club.”

“Fuck!” You turn, wringing your hands in your hair. Your glares rival each other. “You say it as if I was strung along by him. Well I wasn’t. I initiated it.”

His glare flickers for a moment. He stays silent.

“Just admit that you’re jealous,” you whisper. You unsling your purse and dump it on top of the shoe cabinet, never breaking eye contact.

“Fine.” Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I am.”

He skulks forward and traps you between him and the cabinet, gaze holding yours. Namjoon’s always towered over you, but at the moment it isn’t his height that makes you feel tiny.

“Watching his hands all over you like this,” Namjoon’s hands slowly skim the back of your thighs and up your sides and you bite back a whimper, “makes me jealous.”

“And watching you respond like this?” He continues as a firm hand presses the small of your back to close the gap between your torsos. “Glued to him like this? It makes me jealous.”

“You don’t own me,” you whisper but it only elicits a sardonic laugh from him.

“You say that, but you know damn well that’s not the truth. Tell me. Are you jealous?”

“What would I-”

“Yeri.” Damn. Straight through the bullshit. With an eyebrow cocked, it’s obvious he knows the answer and he’s not budging, not even an inch.

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’m jealous.”

“Silly girl.” He traces the hemline of your dress. “I only want you.”

A soft keening noise spills out of you. “I’m so sick of holding back.” You tug on his dress shirt, and the feel of his plush lips finally, finally meeting yours snips the final frayed cords of self-restraint you possessed.

Namjoon is quick to reciprocate, and you moan as his tongue licks at your bottom lip. Hooking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, needing nothing else but to have him close after all this time of distance. He hoists you up, and your legs circle his waist to aid him. The world around you sets into motion as he walks you to your bed, and you anchor yourself by pressing kisses to his neck.

With how tiny your apartment is, it takes no time for him to carry you from the entryway to your bedroom. The cool sensation of your unmade sheets envelops you as he lowers you down onto the bed. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the sight of you, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, lounging on the bed and waiting for him. Desperate for his touch and running out of patience, you gesture to the zip on the side of your dress. Hurrying, he pulls the zipper down as you tug your arms out of the thin straps of the garment. You sit up and let the torso of the dress fall to bunch up at your waist, revealing your bare chest to him.

The quiet gasp that escapes him as he beholds you is infinitely flattering. It’s but a momentary pause. He dives forward into action again. An arm looped around your back to support you as your chest arches upwards, he crouches over you to take one perked-up tit into the heat of his mouth, his free hand coming up to toy with the other. His tongue laves over your nipple in a slippery flick. The other gets pinched and rolled, leaving you gasping at the delicious sensations.

“Namjoon,” you moan out breathily, and it only eggs him on. You whimper as he begins sucking on the bud and wetness pools between your thighs. Your fingernails rake down his back, muted through the layer of his dress shirt.

“M-more,” you plead. He releases your breast and moves his mouth upwards, trailing gentle pecks till he kisses along the length of your collarbone.

“Come here,” he commands, his words breathy and hot as they puff against the thin skin of your clavicle. He scoots back to lean against the headboard, and you follow hastily.

You clamber on top of him, knees bent and straddling his lap as he helps you hike the skirt of your dress up. But before you seat yourself atop the prominent bulge in the lightwash denim of his jeans, he holds you still with a firm grasp on your hip.

His thumb trails the lace detail of your panties, the patterns snaking across your hip bone, baby pink like your dress.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles. His fingers wander to your clothed core, the material slightly sheer from the damp spot of your arousal. He strokes it tenderly with the pad of his finger, so light that it has you quivering as you hover above him.

His fingernail grazes your slit through the wet material and a gasp catches in your throat. You clench around nothing as carnal desire throbs through your core.

“Namjoon, please,” you whine.

Finally, he gives in to you and pulls you down. Your laced core meets his rough denim-clad one. The stiff material of his jeans pokes through the delicate fabric of your underwear, the friction rough as he drags you over his clothed bulge. The burn is delicious. His hands on you set a slow but steady rhythm that you follow easily, canting your hips in time. It’s enrapturing to watch the way you grind on one another, your clit rubbing up on the apex of his bulge in mutual pleasure.

A finger tips your chin up from the sight you were fixated on.

“Eyes on me.”

It’s difficult. Pleasure has your eyes drooping shut. But the intensity of his gaze compellingly holds yours and you manage, even if barely. His expression is stoic, and it’s only the twitch of his dick that betrays how affected he is. You, on the other hand, are completely abandoned to pleasure. Hands scrabbling across his upper back and up until they settle themselves as fists gripping tufts of his hair, teeth clamped on your bottom lip as moans spill out of you at increasing frequency as your pleasure climbs and climbs and climbs until-

Burrowing your face into the side of his neck, you pant as you cross the peak. Hips now stilled, your climax has you throbbing against his hardened member. You cling onto him with your arms around his neck as you free-fall in the subsiding pleasure. Bare chest brushing against the smooth material of his dress shirt, you catch your breath and yield to the moment.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.” Louder this time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The regret in his words yank you out of the heady fog of lust. There’s no time to bask in the afterglow. Reality comes crashing down hard and mercilessly.

Suddenly, you feel so small and so exposed. You read his regret as rejection. Your nudity and previous salacious actions make you feel stupid.

Namjoon attempts to extricate your arms from around him, but shame has you clutching to him tighter, hiding your face in his neck. You can still feel him under you, but it’s now an uncomfortable reminder of the act you just committed.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle now, pleading, “look at me? Please?”

You refuse. It’s impossible to look him in the eye right now.

“Fuck.” Even whispered, the panic laced in his tone is blatant. Gently, he maneuvers both of you to turn over. Feeling the mattress underneath you as you’re laid on your back, you release your hold on him and swiftly turn and tug your blanket up to hide away from him.

“____.” He tries. You grip the sheets even tighter as you feel him trying to pull it away from your face. “Please.”

Embarrassment. Guilt. Mortification. They overtake you and you curl in on yourself. You just want to disappear.

“____,” he tries again, hand stroking your head. But you don’t allow yourself to succumb to its comfort. “Talk to me. Please.”

Oh, now he wants to talk.

Why couldn’t you have just talked things out earlier? Why only now when things have fallen apart? Why now when you’ve just done something so stupid and so reckless?

Why now when it’s too late? What can talking possibly do to fix this now?

His pleas are met with silence.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says resignedly.

More silence. He sighs. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up. From where you’re still hiding in the stuffy darkness underneath your blanket, you hear his footsteps return and the muted thud of the glass getting placed on your bedside table.

The silence returns, but you can feel his presence. You imagine he’s staring at your blanket lump on the bed.

Finally, the heavy quietness is broken with a deep breath, and you hear him say softly, “Get a good night’s rest, okay? Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

The light clicks off and you’re plunged into lonely pitch-black darkness. In the distance, you hear the heavy opening and closing of your front door as Namjoon leaves.

Unearthing yourself to the coolness of the night, your dress an uncomfortable lump around your waist, your breasts slightly sore from his previous ministrations, you stare up at the ceiling as hot tears leak out.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you drag yourself out of bed the next day. Sleep came intermittently and was far from restful, but waking up meant facing the nightmarish reality of what had transpired. So you hid under the covers for as long as you could. But you know you can’t stay there forever.

The buzzing notifications of your phone had woken you up on more than one occasion in the night. But you ignore it and leave your phone next to the glass of water - still untouched - in favor of washing up. It’s more pressing anyway, you surmise. You can feel your make-up, now icky and caked on your face. It’s awful. Your skin is probably revolting against you now and you don’t even want to think about the mess it probably left on your pillowcase. But last night, you were simply paralyzed by the weight of what you’d done, crying till sleep finally came for you.

You take your time going through an extensive skincare routine, even busting out the clay mask you had impulsively bought together with Yeri when it was on discount. You’re doing it because your skin needs the pampering and definitely not because you’re procrastinating getting to your phone.

But there’s only so many steps you can do with the limited skincare products in your apartment. And you know your friends are probably worried about your abrupt disappearance last night. Getting to those messages first, you quickly assure Soo-eun and Yeri that you’re safe at home. Looking at the remaining notifications, you sigh.

Missed calls Namjoon (8)

7 unread messages from 2 chats Namjoon: are you still sleeping? Namjoon: hey, you still asleep? Namjoon: text me when you’re up please? Namjoon: are you awake?

Dong-In: hey! Dong-In: not sure what exactly happened at the end there haha, but it was rly great seeing u again. Dong-In: i’m still waiting on that brunch reschedule, by the way.

Memories from last night come back to you. Dong-In runs his hands through his curls, an easy grin on his face as he leans in to listen to you over the loud music of the club. Things are simple with Dong-In. And, standing on the precipice of a mental spiral whenever you think of Namjoon, the same craving for simplicity from last night returns.

[2:06pm] ____: well it’s a little late for brunch right now

[2:06pm] ____: but you still up to grab a bite?

230 notes · View notes

harringtonstudios · 4 years

Text

best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question.

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @sophroniaa @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused @calum-defense-squad

#sorry <3 #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk lockscreen #mgk smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker smut #mgk headers #machine gun kelly smut #m writes 4 mgk

323 notes · View notes

writingbakery · 4 years

Text

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

1K notes · View notes

seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

Anonymous

ahh!! all the nii-san posts are so good, but have you considered twin brother tobio who thinks your the only one for him

I have,, It has affected my sanity and rings in my head a hundred times a day. I hate it here. Truly. This became sorta really long? But I hope you enjoy (・´ｪ｀・)

tw incest, dubcon if you squint

The flashes of light are incessant, an obnoxious wave of noisy shutters filling the silence in between mutters and questions. Your fists around the bottom lining of your old jacket, denting the fabric under the light ministrations of your fingertips. It’s nerves, they still creep up from time to time when you feel the eyes. They linger, curious or accusatory ones alike. Another flash makes you blink, then it’s quiet. You take a breath at the same time he does, accidental, but of course you do. You’ve always mirrored him after all, even when you weren’t trying. Tobio holds the air until everything grows completely immovable, like still water in winter.

His eyebrows twitch slightly, before he speaks. “I am happy.” Simple, straightforward, you can’t help but let your smile shine through. He eyes the interviewer for a moment, before nodding. “We’ve all worked hard to prove we deserve a spot on the court, it was a good match and I’m happy with the outcome.” The interviewers quickly take notes, before another sea of flashes rains down on the curved panes of his face. It’s his standard post-match ramble, nothing new there, but you can see the spark of victory where it bends him in two and shatters at the fold. “And,” his eyes flick around across the small group of people.

They find yours. “My sister came to support us in the stands so I am very proud.” The deep blues rest on you like you’re the end of a war, his lips turning upwards at the sides. He is proud, of you, and you of him just as much. Or even more if possible, though you are quicker to lower your gaze at the attention. An interviewer to your side clears her voice, before clicking her pen a few times in rapid succession. The press irritates him, though he’s gotten very good at hiding it over the years. In this moment though, you can tell.

It’s written all over in the way he stands on balls of his feet, like he’s ready to sprint out. You wonder if he would reach for you before setting off, or if you’d have to chase him down the hall like another of the fans. Either way you wouldn’t be far behind, it’s just the nature of your relationship. The lads presses her ruby lips together. “When will you take another girlfriend to a game? You broke up with your last girlfriend in May, fans want to know if it is true that you are keeping your newest fling private.”

Ushijima gives you a little head tilt as he walks past, his cheeks coloured from exhaustion, towel still dangling around his neck. You return it. A few of the interviewers immediately turn their attention to him, snapping photos and calling out for him with an almost violent greediness, the small interaction not going unnoticed. You think you hear someone mention your name to him in the same line as ‘dating’, and Wakatoshi’s deep chuckle is comforting when he leads the bunch of them down the hall. Tobio is frowning when you turn back, at the woman with the high ponytail and red lips that shimmer under the artificial lighting.

“I would’ve kept all of it private if that could have been the end of it.” He raises a hand to brush some of his sweaty hair away from his face, before dropping his eyes to the floor. “I only bring the people precious to me to my games.” He does. He asks happily, over the phone like a giddy child, at the crack of dawn when he goes for his run. You’ve complained about it many times. He still does it though, because Tobio is nothing if not persistent. You only notice him moving because the people around you gasp and gawk, flinching away from him like he’s other. He is, too, a different breed entirely.

His long fingers are around your wrist, pulling you from behind the lenses to his side, tucked against his shoulder like a little parasite. That’s what you think you must look like when the flashing starts. Tobio’s arm wraps around your back and rests his chin on your head though, allowing you to fit right in his hold. Another one of his shiny trophies. His smile looks a little brighter from this angle. “My sister is the only one who has never missed a game of mine. If you want to report on anything, this is the person I am most grateful for in my life right now. I’m very lucky to have her support.”

It feels unreal. Someone calls out your name, the shutters get the noisiest they’ve been all day. It won’t be a headline in the making, you try to calm yourself, bowing at the same time Tobio does. He drops his hand to wrap around yours, and tugs you behind him. It’s straightforward, your brother always is. The violent banging against your rib cage is less so, but you’ve gotten used to it already.

///

“Why did you say all that stuff to those guys earlier? Were you not feeling too well?” Tobio looks up from where he’s putting his bag down, his eyes shooting up along your body. “You’re normally good at dealing with the press post-match.” You put the towel under the water, before turning back towards the main room of your apartment.

“What did I say that was wrong?” He tosses his sweaty shirt on the heap of jerseys and leggings to wash, picking up his towel and swinging it around his neck. You look down again, playing with the fluffy fabric as you approach.

“Nothing, Tobio. I just-” you linger at the couch, resting your hip against it, “you don’t normally egg on rumours about your dating life. It’ll be fine because it’s me, but if it were anyone else people might be cautious of your words. They really want a story on the details, you know. And I’m not really used to being next to you on pictures, it was a bit surprising, s’all.”

“I meant what I said.”

He closes the rest of the distance for you, standing toes to toes. You don’t look up until you can feel the soft puff of air on your head, where he lays a kiss. It feels warm, and good, and you bite your tongue when the pounding of your heart starts feeling painful against your chest. You duck away from it the second time, pushing his chin up with two fingers instead. Tobio smiles into his exhale, as you trace across his features with the wet towel. Brows, eyes, nose, under his chin and along the line of his throat. “Are you mad at me?” He drops his eyes back to yours when you frown, before tacking onto your slight frustration. “Or about the dating?”

“Tobio,” you mumble, pulling out of his vicinity too late. His hand is already on your forearm, tugging you right back in place. Face to his chest with barely enough space to look up all the way to his handsome face. You try to keep it out, but your tongue starts to feel a bit bitter anyway. “I really don’t want to-”

“Because we can stop doing that as soon as you say so. They get paid a lot of money, money I’d rather be using on us. I’m tired of doing it.”

Even now, still spent from the match, he smells like safety. Like home, perfectly familiar. You have to physically distance yourself from him by turning your eyes to the couch, not to melt right into him. “Then don’t,” you nod. “But then I have to stop being less… everywhere with you too, and I don’t think you want that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a good actor, Tobio. I can’t pretend not to care and people will look at us, and see.”

“Then let them.”

You sigh, dropping the towel aside under the arm that he’s still holding. He draws gentle circles into the soft skin, like he’s trying to unpick the rips in every single fiber of your threaded sanity. “You’re impossible.” He bends his knees and drops to your level, kissing you. Softly, a few feather-light kisses that shut you up, and then one that breaks you open. He pulls you into him by the waist, the hard lines of his chest against your softer ones. The press of his lips to yours is sweet, though entirely guilty as he uses the leverage on your body to walk you back a little, melting into you.

He bites at your bottom lip and swipes his tongue at yours, sucking eagerly. You imagine his tongue to spell out ‘mine’ on the soft parts of your mouth a million times, because when he gives you a break to breathe you’re dizzy. “You said we weren’t going to do this again.”

“I‘ve been a better liar than you for a while, little sister,” he grins, though you can see the hesitation in his eyes too. This is such a bad thing, it’s wrong, you know it and Tobio must know too. It eats you up inside, but maybe that’s why it’s so easy to believe him. You let your face drop against his chest, letting the rise and fall of his chest dictate yours. “You were made for me, remember? And I for you. And I wished that we’d get married and you wished we’d always be together forever.”

“On our fifth birthday,” you remind him, ignoring his hand when it starts playing with the edge of your worn jacket. It’s his, you suddenly hate how obvious you are. Tobio hums softly at your frown.

“I never stopped meaning it.” He uses one of his long legs to hook around yours and pushes you over into the couch, though you land softly. And while you’re trying to catch your breath from the sudden tilt, he follows you down, coming to lift your knees open and upwards. He leans down on his forearms on top of you, and presses another kiss to your lips. This one is lazier, like he’s already won. He has. Because you shouldn’t be in this situation at all. “I love you,” he whispers, starting to kiss down your neck and zipping open his old jacket from your body.

His large body slotted in between your legs, he presses his hips into you just enough to drive you absolutely mad. “I can’t stay away from you, so stop pushing already,” he moans, reaching down to shift himself in his shorts. Your body, the traitorous thing, basically shudders in excitement when he pulls your top underneath your tits, leaning down to take a bud into his mouth. “Say it,” he ruts his hips into yours now, the friction making you whine. It feels so good, he feels so good.

“I- I love you,” you close your eyes when he smiles at you again, lifting himself from your body to drag your shorts and panties down your legs. “Ah- ‘want you, Tobio.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting back in the couch, “want you too, been wanting you for so long. So long, you have no idea.” He pulls at you until you get up too, sitting you down on his lap, his hard cock slotted between your thighs with a his. “How did you expect me to fuck this perfect, little hole and forget about it, anyway? I belong in this tight cunny, it belongs to me.” He’s rambling, humping you in his lap with his head thrown back and his fingers digging so deep into the skin of your hips they might leave permanent indents.

You press a few kisses to his throat, which he grunts at, before lining up and sliding down the head. He’s already so big, that’s what you remember most. You twitch as you lower yourself on him, moaning through the deep breaths. He stretches you so wide it’s hard to think of anything else, just Tobio. Tobio, Tobio, your Tobio. He drops his forehead on your shoulder when you’re full, before thrusting up into you. You start moving up and down too fast for his liking but your patience has worn too thin for slow. “Wait, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Tobio chokes, shoving you back down in his lap. His cockhead is already at the very end of your sloppy cunt, pressing against every inch.

“Want your fat cock to break me open, please. I need it. I need you. Tobio, please.” He kisses down your face and neck to let you adjust a moment longer, before rolling his length deep inside you once, twice, filling you up over and over again. Mind blank, you lift yourself up a bit higher to drop down on him, his breathing getting shallower by the second. He mumbles out soft curses, and you cling to him. You won’t last. “T-Tobio,” you beg, and he slides his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit with precise movements. “Wanna cum on your cock. You too, cum into me, please.”

He only picks up the pace more when he flips you back over on your back, rutting his cock into you so deep it kisses your cervix with each thrust. Fingers sliding through the sticky mess with calculated precision. “Cum then, slutty girl. Cum on your brother’s cock, you deserve it. I’ll fuck you until you can’t ever think of what others think again.” His hips smack into your doughy skin with every pump, stretching you wide open for him. You can only hang onto him while you cum, moaning his name over and over. “Ahg— Tobio, fuck, holyfuckholyfuck I love you. Love you, Tobio!” Your arms around his shoulders, nails ruining his beautiful skin. “I’m sorry,” you breathe as he kisses you, never once stopping.

He doesn’t give you rest, can’t. But his lips are all over yours, comforting you even now. “I know, baby, I know.” He forces himself to slow down a little as you clamp around him so tight, not ready to let this end. His hips twitch, eyes sharpening on your fucked expression. The rush of love he feels should be illegal. “You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it ever again. I’m going to fuck you limp.”

19 notes · View notes

annerbhp · 4 years

Text

Lucky

- part one - part two - part three - part four - part five -

Part Six

Harry watches Snape lead Malfoy out of the party, his eyes narrowing.

What the hell is Malfoy doing skulking around the party? He isn’t even dressed for a party, and Harry doesn’t believe for a second that he was just trying to sneak in. Malfoy is glaring daggers at Snape, and Harry doesn’t even think twice about following, absently setting the two goblets in his hands down on a table.

This could be his chance to finally find out exactly what is going on, and what Snape has to do with it. To prove he isn’t imagining all of this.

He ignores one of Slughorn’s guests trying to catch his attention, pausing in the hall outside as he tries to figure out which direction they’ve gone in. He heads down one way before deciding he must have chosen wrong, doubling back at a fast clip. He slips his hand down into his pocket, groping for his invisibility cloak and pulling it free.

Before he can flip it up over his head, he hears a voice from behind him.

“Going somewhere?”

Harry stumbles to a stop, turning towards the entrance to Slughorn’s rooms. Ginny stands there, still looking more beautiful than anyone has a right, only now there is something not quite right about the way she’s holding her body.

Shit. Ginny. His date. How could he have possibly forgotten?

“No,” he says, despite how blatantly untrue that clearly is.

“Right,” she says, her face impassive, none of the warmth that had been there earlier. But there’s also something in her eyes that makes his gut burn.

“I just need to do something really fast,” he says, the excuse feeling weak and stupid the second he says it.

“Just going to the loo, huh?” she asks, lips twisting. It’s clear she knows exactly what he’s doing out here. She would have seen Malfoy like everyone else. Besides, one hardly needs an invisibility cloak for peeing.

“I’ll come back,” he says, furiously torn between losing Malfoy and pissing Ginny off. If it weren’t so important, he’d never…

“Don’t strain yourself on my account,” she says, voice clipped and icy. She turns, but rather than walking back towards the party, she heads down the hall, like maybe she’s leaving.

Shit, shit, shit, Harry thinks, glancing down in the opposite direction.

On impulse, he darts forward, grabbing Ginny’s hand, and setting back down the hallway with her in tow.

She protests, but he shushes her, nearly breaking into a run, trying to be as quiet as possible. Ginny is clearly unhappy, but he also trusts she won’t blow their cover when they aren’t supposed to be out here and might get detention for it. No, she’ll save yelling and hexing him for later.

They pass by a row of classrooms, Harry pausing briefly to listen outside each. Just as he’s starting to get desperate, he pauses outside the last door in the hallway, catching Snape and Malfoy’s voices, pressing his ear against the wood, able to hear everything they are saying.

He looks at Ginny, still standing in the middle of the hall. He waves her closer, lifting the invisibility cloak.

For a second he thinks she will refuse, her jaw set, but then she’s crouching down next to him, her ear pressing to the door.

He flips the cloak over the two of them, and settles in to listen, his face just a few inches from Ginny’s.

“…cannot afford to make mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—” Snape is saying.

Harry presses his ear closer.

* * *

Ginny’s shoe is cutting into her heel in a highly unpleasant way as she crouches next to Harry, listening to Snape admit to things like Unbreakable Vows and Malfoy talking about serving his master. It’s a lot, and Ginny’s barely taking it in at the moment, to be honest, too caught up in the stupid, stupid truth she should have seen from the start.

Which is only harder to deal with, Harry’s knee pressed up against her, his hand only inches from hers on the door.

Draco’s voice is coming closer, and Harry’s eyes widen in alarm, but then he’s grabbing her, surging up and pushing her firmly back against the wall right next to the door. He ends up pressed completely against her as the door swings open, barely missing them, and for a moment Ginny’s brain completely fizzles out.

Draco storms by without so much as a look in their direction. Harry lets out a breath, the air rustling the hair framing Ginny’s face, and that does absolutely nothing at to help. Harry looks down at her, only now seeming to realize their current position. His mouth opens like he might apologize, but she presses her hand to his mouth as Snape finally steps out into the hall as well.

Snape lingers a moment, staring off into the direction Draco disappeared, and Ginny doesn’t even dare breath, or think about Harry’s lips against her palm, the unreal amount of heat he seems to be giving off. It’s a really sodding inconvenient moment to register the warm woody smell that must be him or his soap or something, but either way, it’s making her dizzy.

Focus, Ginny.

Snape finally turns, heading back towards Slughorn’s party and disappearing inside.

Ginny lets out a breath, pulling her hand down from Harry’s mouth, fingers registering the slight roughness of his chin.

“Ginny,” he says. “Did you—"

“Not here,” Ginny hisses, wondering if he takes pride in getting caught.

He nods, glancing back in the direction of the party. “Cloister?”

She doesn’t exactly feel like going back to the party anyway, she tells herself, so it’s stupid to feel disappointed that this particular misguided evening is clearly at an end.

She nods.

Fortunately, it’s not too far because there is no way for them to walk under the cloak together, at least not any way for Ginny to feel comfortable doing it. Harry walks at a fast pace, his eyes bright with a strange sort of intensity that leaves Ginny feeling inexplicably disgruntled.

They’ve no more than stepped inside the cloister when Harry flings the cloak aside and crows, “I knew it!” He strides across the space. “I knew he was up to something. And Snape is in on it! You heard him! Serving his master. And I don’t believe him for a second that he wasn’t behind what happened to Katie. He was clearly lying, the slimy git.”

And so he goes on, repeating almost everything they heard with such zeal and conviction, that she rather quickly feels like he’s forgotten she’s even here. She wonders if she got up and left if he’d even notice.

She tells herself she’s being petty, the rational part of her brain pointing out that the overheard conversation was definitely worth being picked over. Potentially damning on many levels. She hasn’t even begun to process it, to be honest. But all she can think about is what a nice time they’d had, what it had felt like when Harry pushed her back against the wall. The way even now as he paces and rants, what a dashing figure he cuts in his dress robes, and Ginny fully realizes in that moment what a complete fool she is. How much she’s let her feelings get away from her.

It had felt so…good, being at the party with him. But clearly it hadn’t meant as much to him. She was foolish to think it had. She can’t help but think of him offering to walk her back to her compartment on the train all those long months ago, realizing all he’d wanted to do was spy on Draco. Being with her had been beside the point entirely.

Her chest fills with a sharp pain, wondering if she is destined to make the same stupid mistakes when it comes to Harry Potter. This was hardly a real date, Ginny. You were convenient.

Pushing to her feet, she walks towards the exit. She’s a writhing roiling mess right now and wants nothing more than to escape. To take the time to think about this clearly. Because if she has to try to talk right now, she’s bound to say something she really, really regrets.

She hasn’t made it all that far when Harry calls out after her. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my room,” she says, not even able to look back at him right now.

He catches up to her, his hand on her arm, looking concerned like he actually cares. “Now? Already? If you’d rather go back to the party—”

“Why did you really ask me to go with you tonight?” she asks before she can stop herself.

“What?” Harry asks, eyes shifting to side with clear guilt, and that’s it, that’s the last straw.

“Trying to get yourself a Slytherin spy to watch Draco for you?” she asks. “Going to ask me to sneak you into the common room?”

He blinks. “No. That is not why I asked you.”

She shakes her head, not particularly in the mood to hear any more. “Sure,” she says, pulling her arm free and moving for the exit.

“It’s not,” Harry insists, still pressing and why can’t he just let her leave?

“Then why?”

“Because I bloody like you!” he very nearly shouts at her.

Ginny stills, feeling the anger melt almost instantly into something else. Something much worse. She slowly turns to look back at him. “What?”

Harry closes his eyes, blowing out a breath and stepping closer to her. “Because I like you, and if you’d gone with someone else, I’d have been tempted to set birds after them.”

Ginny feels her heart pounding away in her chest, even as her mind struggles to process that. “There’s no accounting for taste,” she quips, because she’s stupid.

Harry’s face just absolutely falls, like puppy that’s just been unexpectedly kicked. He turns away, sitting down on a tumbled marble block.

“Harry,” she says, taking a step towards him, even as she has no idea what to say.

“You really don’t think much of me, do you,” he says.

Ginny shakes her head, even as shame floods her body.

“First that I’d cheat you in the match. Now that I’d only ask you to the party to get you to do something for me.”

“That’s not true,” she says, not appreciating him turning this back around on her. She’s not the one who almost ditched him to go spy on an inane arch-nemesis, or whatever the hell Draco is to him.

He gives her a look of disbelief. “Yeah, it is. You were even suspicious of why I’d want to help Reiko with Quidditch!”

She wants to deny it, but the inescapable truth is that she does always seem to jump to the worst conclusions around him. “Maybe I do,” she forces herself to admit. “But it’s not because I think poorly of you.”

She can tell he doesn’t believe it. “Then why?”

Because it’s far easier to believe the bad things of him than to believe he actually likes her. Despite the fact that he just rather clearly told her that. Shouted it, really.

“Because I like you too,” she admits, knowing she’s felt this way far longer than she’s ever been willing to admit. Because it never mattered. It was never going to happen. Never could happen. So why be weak enough to want it? “And it’s easier to think those bad things than accept that you might…like someone like me.”

Harry’s pushed back to his feet. “Someone like you?”

She lifts her chin. “A Slytherin.”

“I don’t care,” he says.

She laughs. “You mean you’ll overlook it.”

He walks towards her. “No. That’s not—Merlin, I’m mucking this up. You were right, what you said last year. About seeing all Slytherin the same. I know that.”

“And yet you would have left me there,” she says, horrified to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. “For everyone to see.”

He lets out a sound of frustration. “I would have come back.”

“Would you?” she asks, not so certain herself. Harry is apparently willing to forget absolutely everything else when it comes to catching Draco or Snape doing something wrong.

He looks ready to immediately confirm it but has the grace to hesitate as if really thinking about it. “I don’t know. But I do know I would have felt like a right arse about it if I hadn’t.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “I suppose that’s something.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m also right about Malfoy, and having everyone constantly telling me I’m imagining things or being petty or tilting at nargles or whatnot is driving me barmy!”

Ginny opens her mouth, but Harry cuts across her.

“And no, before you can accuse me of it, it’s not just because they’re both bloody Slytherin. You heard what they said!”

She wants to snap back at that, at this stupid obsession with Draco, but she can’t ignore what she heard. She doesn’t really know what it means just yet. But at the very least it’s suspicious. And he’s right, that she’s always jumping to the worse conclusions around him.

Harry is standing a few feet away, staring at her like he’s waiting for her to turn and bolt any moment—like he’s torn between making his point and not wanting to drive her away.

Either way, this clearly means a lot to him.

Taking a breath, Ginny sits, carefully settling her robes around her. “Start at the beginning.”

Harry looks wary, like he suspects a trap. “What?”

“With Draco. Start at the beginning. Why do you suspect him? And of what exactly?”

“Ginny, I’m not asking you to—”

“No,” she says, cutting across him. “You’re not. I’m offering.”

He still hesitates.

“If you don’t want to tell me—”

“I do,” he says, looking surprised by this himself.

“Okay.”

He starts calmly enough, like he’s trying to prove how rational he’s being about it all, but as he talks more and more about Borgin and Burkes, what he saw on the train, his suspicions about Katie Bell, the way Draco’s been acting this year—giving up Quidditch, passing up prime chances to be a prick, walking around looking half dead—he ends up furiously pacing back and forth, like he feels the need to spill it all out before she can get a chance to tell him he’s wrong.

He eventually runs out of steam, turning to look at her, clearly braced for her reaction.

“Okay,” is all she says, still trying to take it all in, what it might mean. Not ready to express an opinion.

“He has the mark,” Harry presses, as if this is not the reaction he wants from her.

“The Dark Mark?” Ginny says, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck go up.

He nods, so certain of himself. “He was showing it to them on the train. You know what that means. He’s a Death Eater.”

She touches her own arm, fingers sliding up over her forearm and the tattoo there. “That isn’t always a choice.”

“What?” he says, walking over to her. He looks down at her arm.

She lifts her chin, resisting the urge to tug the fabric back down over her skin. Harry just stares down at it, his brow furrowed. “Everything always looks different from the other side,” he mumbles.

“I suppose so,” she says, feeling horribly exposed and not particularly liking the troubled look in Harry’s eye. She pulls her sleeve back down, getting to her feet. “It’s getting late.”

This shatters Harry’s immobility. “I’ll walk you back,” he automatically offers.

She shakes he head. She doesn’t need his misguided sense of chivalry. “It’s after curfew. And the opposite way for you.”

“I don’t care,” he says. He blows out a breath. “I mean, I want to.”

She hesitates, as always the weak part of her wanting to grab any excuse to spend more time in his company.

“At least let me do this one thing right,” Harry says. “Please.”

She nods.

He surprises her by offering his elbow, like he still doesn’t mind touching her, like that little green tattoo on her arm doesn’t change everything.

She slides her hand into the crook of his elbow.

They’re quiet as they work their way back across the castle. It’s not uncomfortable exactly, but it does feel heavy with everything said. Things still not said. She’s not sure which one of them is doing it, but they are walking slower and slower, the closer they get to the common room.

“This isn’t really how I wanted this evening to go,” Harry eventually says. “Just so you know.”

“And how did you want it to go?”

“Well, with a bit less arguing, I suppose.”

That startles a laugh out of her. “With us? Doesn’t seem likely.”

“Yeah,” he says, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose not.”

Against her will, her hand tightens on his arm. “You must be regretting asking me now.”

Harry’s answer is immediate. “Not even a little.”

Despite herself, she finds herself leaning into his arm, wanting so much to believe that. He’s warm and close and there’s that scent that seems to go straight to her head. Despite every complication, this feels seductively simple.

“Me either,” she finds herself admitting.

“Ginny,” he says, pulling her to a stop as he turns to face her.

The way he’s looking at her makes everything slow, makes her feel hyper aware of how close he is standing, how alone they are. She’s still holding his arm, and his hand moves slightly, brushing her waist, almost like a question. She doesn’t move away, lifting her face to look at him.

And then he’s doing it, leaning in as if to kiss her, Ginny’s heart thudding away in her chest, something like anticipation tingling along her skin. Only he stops short, his eyes uncertain as he looks at her, like he’s worried about making another mistake.

So Ginny makes the mistake for him.

She lifts up to meet him, needing to know what this feels like. Wanting to know.

Harry’s hands grip her arms as her lips meet his, pulling her closer.

It’s nothing like her kiss with Kieran, which had been more of an unwelcome attack in her estimation, though had left her wondering if it was possible she didn’t just like kissing all that much. But kissing Harry disproves that almost immediately. His lips are warm and gentle, not really demanding anything, like just being here is more than enough for him.

She moves her free hand up to his neck, fingers sliding around to the curl of hair at the back of his neck, just wanting to touch him, to feel that this is real.

He makes a sound, something low and pleased, and on instinct she parts her lips, Harry immediately pressing closer. Everything only seems to fit together better now as his head tilts to the side.

Her back comes to a stop against the wall, Harry above her and around her, and it’s completely overwhelming in the best possible way, the kiss stretching on and on and on, so much more than she ever could have imagined.

They break apart at the sound of voices approaching down the hall, clearly pissed as they alternate between loud singing and breathless attempt to hush each other. Harry pulls back, distance widening between them as he looks back over his shoulder.

Ginny leans back against the wall and tries to breathe, part of her tempted to just ignore the intrusion, never wanting Harry to stop. But the smarter part of her brain knows what a bad idea that is. This intrusion of reality back into the situation.

Harry looks back at her, seeming a bit befuddled and looking very thoroughly kissed.

She’d done that. Put that look on his face.

“I should go,” she says, as much a reminder to herself.

“Yeah,” he says, looking reluctant, his arm tightening around her again.

Before she can be distracted, she slips out under his arm, reaching for the entrance latch. She really just needs to think about all of this. And something about Harry has always made thinking clearly particularly challenging.

She pauses in the doorway, looking back at him. “Night, Harry.”

“Night,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets as he smiles at her.

Letting the door swing shut behind her, she stops right inside the doorway, her hands going to her lips. There are so many things to think through, to consider more closely, but for now, she just stands there, never wanting the sensation to end.

#lucky #annerbfic #hinny #bring day of indulgence back

180 notes · View notes

firefield · 3 years

Text

David Bowie - Reality (2003)

“The thing, probably, that keeps me writing is this awful feeling that there are no absolutes. That there is no truth. That we are, as I’ve been thinking for so many years now, fully in the swirl of chaos theory.” DB, 2003

I always learn new things about David Bowie whenever I listen through his complete discography chronologically, and this run through is no different. As I get close to the end here, I’m reminded how much less I know about these later works, due simply to the fact that they have existed for a much shorter time, and my experience with them is more limited. “Reality” rocks more than I realized on release day, especially coming off the heels of “Heathen” with all its layers and mystery and subtleties. An empty house afforded the opportunity to really crank this one up, a vinyl pass, and CD pass, and finally the 5.1 surround sound edition - and yeah - DB said he wanted a simpler sound, and wanted a record that could be translated into a live show easily and effectively and he got that in spades.

As with all his post-80’s work, and especially his post-heart attack material, “Reality” embraces the darker and more cynical side of DB’s many characters - from the irony of the album title with album art portraying a very cartoony space-man Bowie looking about as unreal and non-Reality as possible and still be recognizable - to DB’s insistence that he made a “positive!” record despite themes of aging and death, loneliness and anonymity, geopolitical strife, day-in-day-out mundanity and the creeping threat of urbanization to nature. Regarding the subject matter of Reality he told Interview Magazine, “This is probably a period when, more than any other time, the idea that our absolutes are disintegrating is manifest in real terms. Truths that we always thought we could stand by are crumbling before our eyes. It really is quite traumatic.”

I read quotes like that and I think, for a guy that is largely known for (and criticized for) his ability to synthesize the past and his surroundings into something entirely David-Bowieingly unique, he certainly shows skill at synthesizing the future as well. Beyond things like financial chicanery like Bowie Bonds and the impact of the internet on the creation and distribution of music, Bowie often hit at the very essence of what unites as well as divides.

The seeds of this malleablity of truth that DB describes had been planted in my country during the civil rights movement and the tragedy of the Vietnam War, but began to flower and bloom after the 9/11 event - affecting Bowie’s home turf and his family profoundly. Heathen is prescient, Reality is a little angry about things. DB took time to specifically say what Reality was not: it was not an angry album, it was not a response to 9/11, it was not his “New York Album” - but then he’d spend just as much time gently walking back those claims, almost wondering aloud if it was, in fact, all of those things and more. He speaks around this time about how naturally writing music came to him. Unforced, calmly. I think this “flow” is why you can glean so many little contradictions about Reality and it’s intentions and meaning. He’s letting it happen, not dictating the plot; the tensions of that city and that moment in time allowed to mold and shape the work. Polar opposite to the Heathen recording environment at Allaire Studios in the Catskill Mountains, Reality was recorded in the cramped Studio B of Philip Glass’s Looking Glass Studios in NYC and both those disparate studio choices impact their respective products acutely.

Reality is Bowie’s most “hands-on” record since Diamond Dogs, employing all his multi-instrumentalist abilities, and it’s also one of his most thoroughly demoed. Most all of Reality was demoed out in Studio B by DB and Tony Visconti playing all the instruments, with Mario McNulty (the same engineer DB would later trust with the posthumous reimagining/re-recording of Never Let Me Down) as studio assistant. According to Tony, he had a feeling that many of these “demo tracks” would not ever actually be re-recorded, so they were laid down at a useable fidelity. Consequently, much of the demo material survived on the final album. The band brought in for final overdubs was chosen with the live show in mind specifically. This was a smaller, tighter unit of BowieLive veterans and by all accounts recording was smooth and productive.

New Killer Star opens the record, and is also Reality’s debut single (that contained one of his more surprising B-sides, Sigue Sigue Sputnik’s ‘Love Missle F1-11’) and is a spectacular Earl Slick led hazy, woozy guitar statement.

This is followed by The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso - recorded in 1972 but delayed until their 1976 debut. This track mimics the space occupied by the Pixies cover Cactus - the second track on Heathen - DB pulling tracks from his past that he enjoys and placing them where they give the record momentum. Quite a different interpretation if you have heard the original - DB took liberties with both the lyric and the arrangement and it’s a cool little track.

Never Get Old follows and addresses the common theme of time and aging in DB compositions…. (Cygnet Committee, Time, Hearts Filthy Lesson, Changes, Fantastic Voyage, and many more) and the composition itself references much of his past in Space Oddities countdown, the elongated guitar strands of Heroes, bits of melody from Crack City, the four-walls-closing-in sense of Low and some of Hunky Dory’s ominous moments. A pounding live favorite.

…and seamlessly right into The Loneliest Guy. Anyone who saw the Reality Tour knows the captivating power of this piece, and it’s honesty and fragility was one of a few reasons why I thought this would be DB’s final album.

Looking For Water. Man, I *love* this song. It’s one of my favorite vocal performances on Reality and would certainly end up on my list of “underrated DB songs” were I compelled to make one. I like repetition in music, and it’s hypnotic and mantra-esque qualities - and this is one that always gets a significant volume boost.

She’ll Drive The Big Car - a supercool stab of Bowie sash and swagger, and a killer vocal performance, masking some seriously sad lyrics. Bowie manages to sound defiant, tired, funky, deferential, sexy and soulful all in the course of a single song. He’s such an effortlessly great singer, that’s it’s easy to become so accustomed to it that you almost miss it. It’s just “him.”

The exceedingly sweet “Days” fits nicely with all of Realities reflections, and has for me become a song I pay much more attention to since we lost the man to cancer.

Fall Dog Bombs The Moon is one of DB’s most overtly political songs, and was apparently written very quickly - under a half and hour - and directly addresses the Iraq War and the profiteering involved. Relatively bleak with murky lyrics, it’s a interesting and unique DB composition.

Try Some, Buy Some is just beautiful and I think one of Bowie’s most interesting and genuinely heart-felt covers (along with Waterloo Sunset, also from these sessions.) The inspiration to do this song comes directly from the 1971 Ronnie Spector version and the impact it had on him personally. DB seems to be absolutely sincere when he claimed that he had completely forgotten that it was a George Harrison composition until he sat down to work on the album credits.

Next up is the sizzling rocker Reality that has one foot in Tin Machine and one foot in The Next Day. Love Earl’s guitar sound here. Like New Killer Star, the guitar layers in this one sound amazing on the 5.1 surround mix.

Ahh yeah. Another in an amazing number of fantastic Bowie album closers. I’ve made it a point in my life to quit ranking art into “good/better/best/sucks categories and hierarchies and see art as an experience, not a competition. My friends know this about me, and consequently tease me and attempt to prod me into breaking this creed. Under unrelenting pressure to name a “favorite David Bowie track” I named Bring Me The Disco King.

I could give many reasons why this would be the one…. The repetition I mentioned earlier, here found in Matt Chamberlain’s drum loop (interestingly snagged from ‘When The Boys Come Marching Home,’) the overwhelming sense I had when I first heard it that this was DB’s final record, the sense that the threat of jazz that had always pounded on David’s door in his chord structures and harmonies had finally broken down the door… the very tangible sense that this was a composition that had already had a long life but stayed tucked into the shadows by its unsatisfied creator, only to be given life and light on this great album after it had been stripped down to almost nothing - simplicity being the sought after key to its finally being allowed to soar. If it’s not already obvious, I think this song is magnificent. Literally. The fact that David knew it was deep inside there, he just had to mine it out over the course of a decade or so is extraordinary.

Couple of thoughts about a track that didn’t fit well on Reality but made it to bonus/B-sides…

How cool is his cover of The Kinks Waterloo Sunset? In the years after his death, when I feel that loss in my heart, it’s Waterloo Sunset I turn up to 11 and allow it to yank me back out of that murk.

“People so busy

makes me feel dizzy

but I don’t feel afraid

as long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset

I am in paradise.”

3 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 4 years

Note

for the yandere prompt list, what about 24 for claude????

24. “You’re calling me a monster? Who do you think made me this way?”

“Claude?” you asked, a last-ditch effort to catch his attention. You had hoped he’d notice when you entered the library. Or when you sat in the chair across from him. Or when you cleared your throat. But he hadn’t. He’d been preoccupied as of late, following a cycle you were more than familiar with. Usually, you hated it when he was so distracted, but this time had been different. In a way, you were angry that he’d given you so much time alone. If he hadn’t, perhaps you could still be blissfully unaware. Perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting across from him with rigid posture, your nails were bitten down into nubs and your eyes were burning from a lack of sleep.

Claude looked up to your call, his face still scrunched up in concentration. Recognition hit a second later, a smile growing from the purse of his lips. “Hello to you, too,” he said. Warm, friendly. Your stomach twisted. “Did you need something?” Claude asked. “Or, let me guess, you were lonely.”

You didn’t respond, which he presumptuously took as agreement.

“Maybe it’s time I gave it a break,” Claude said. “After all this boredom, I could use a pick-me-up.” With a dull thud, he closed the book, tossing it aside and only half stifling a huge yawn. Usually, Claude’s playful moods brightened your own, but now you couldn’t help but look for something beneath it. Something Dark. But all you saw was Claude. A bit tired from his endless study but no less warm and inviting than usual. It almost made you stop. You could stop, you didn’t need to do this.

But of course you did. “Actually, I wanted to talk,” you said.

Claude’s smile fell, replaced by an apprehensive expression. “Well that doesn’t bode well,” he said slowly. “Which is fine, of course. Go ahead.”

A breath left your lips, collapsing your chest before you inhaled anew. “Right, so,” you began, trying to think of the best way to phrase what you needed to say. Anxiety nibbled at your insides, although you didn’t like to think of why. Claude looked so harmless, lounging in a chair with far too many books than reasonable spread around him. The same Claude you’d always known, loved, and trusted. He wouldn’t hurt you. “What I wanted to ask. Or say, I guess. Is that I, um-”

You stumbled on the words. Claude was giving you his full attention, watching you curiously, cautiously. It made it all the harder. What were you even afraid of? That’d he be upset about your discovery of the dossier he’d compiled on you, information about your comings and goings, private things? You were the one who should have been upset. But the man in front of you with his lovely eyes and puzzled expression couldn’t be that bad. Not possibly. Because if he was, then this had been going on since the beginning of your relationship. Before that, even.

“It’s something I found,” you finally managed to say. “I wasn’t going through your things to be nosy, I swear, I was just looking for the first few letters we exchanged. But your study is an absolute wreck and you were gone so I was going through the drawers and I-I found something else with my name on it.” You took a deep breath, daring to meet his eyes from under your lashes. “Claude, have you been spying on me?”

There was no grand shift of tension following your question, no dramatics. Instead, Claude donned an expression of comprehension, chin rising in a half-nod. “Ah, I was wondering when you... well, nevermind,” he said, clearing his throat. Rather than finish that thought, he quickly added, “This has really been eating at you, hasn’t it.” Not a question, a mere statement.

“Of course it has,” you said, frowning at the condescension that he’d state the obvious so patiently and sympathetically.

“I’m curious about why you didn’t ask me... before now, I mean. You weren’t scared of me, were you?” he asked, a joking tone creeping into his voice. “I would hope you know by now that I’m not some kind of monster who’s gonna fly off the handle or anything. Luckily, I got my mom’s looks, not her temper.”

“I know that,” you said, frustration growing. “That’s not why I didn’t bring it up. All of this... I didn’t want to.”

“I gathered as much,” Claude responded wryly. “Well, I’m happy that you were finally honest. Personally, I can’t stand to let my feelings simmer too long. It’s unhealthy.”

“I know,” you said. A moment later, you shook your head, frowning. Claude looked too innocent for you to tell if he was purposefully misdirecting. Although he looked too innocent for a lot of things. “That’s not the point,” you told him, forcing yourself to sound more authoritative. “Are you actually… Have you been watching me?”

“Sure,” Claude said, admitting to it without any hesitation. Your stomach dropped.

“And everything before? About me, my past. Before we even officially met, you were… Stalking me.”

“Stalking? That’s a bit harsh,” he said, face scrunched up in distaste for the word. “But I guess there was some light… Well, yeah. It was stalking.”

“You’re joking,” you said, almost able to convince that this was all some sort of prank. It was just too unreal, the unthinkable contrasted against the familiar setting of the library, coming from the mouth of someone you thought you knew. “Why?”

“I thought I made it pretty clear that I think you’re interesting,” Claude said, as if that was meant to explain it all away. “Besides, it wouldn’t look very good if you were getting yourself into trouble while I’m busy. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“You make it sound like-like I’m a child,” you said, anger swirling in with the discomfort and making your words stutter. “Like I’m in need of constant supervision.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Claude said, meeting your heightening mood with his own casual tone. “I’ve never seen you as a child.”

Your face darkened, stomach clenching and skin crawling. Anger was hot, but your hands were shaking. When you spoke, you knew it was edging on being a whine, but you couldn’t help it. “Claude, this isn't funny. I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Those words pulled you up completely short. He was being serious. Claude looked unaffected by the situation, by your mood and accusations. It made you dizzy, the feelings too intense to process all at once. Words collected themselves in your head to fight against the spiraling sickness of slipping control, angry words meant to sound sharp. “You said you’re not monster, but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Maybe you’re not the kind with big teeth and claws but-but you make a pretty good boogeyman.”

“You’re calling me a monster?” Claude asked without pause, one of his eyebrows half raised. He sounded so damned unconcerned, never taking anything as seriously as he should. Or maybe he was. Maybe that was what you saw gleaming in his eyes, what was so horribly wrong about the situation. Still reeling from your outburst, you said nothing, unsure of what the right answer could possibly be and jaw clenched tightly. Claude shrugged off your silence as easily as he did anything else. “Fair enough. Tell me this, then. Who do you think made me this way?”

And, just like that, he had turned your attempt at control against you. It took a few seconds for your brain to even catch up enough to comprehend what he was implying. Claude was blaming you. Blaming you, and all the while wearing looking utterly collected, his eyes dancing in the candlelight. You wanted to answer, you needed to. This was all types of twisted and wrong. A peculiar swirl of rage and terror had struck deep into your heart. But he was wrong. You needed to refute the ridiculous idea that his constricting hold on you was somehow on you, that it was something to be treated so lightly.

But you didn’t. Your mouth opened and shut and your breathing caught and went stale in your lungs.

And that was enough of an answer for Claude. You could see the crystallization of whatever conclusion he’d drawn from your silence by the shift of his smile. Gone was the strangely intimidating edge of before, replaced by a familiar breezy attitude. You wanted to contest this, too, to force him to confront the insanity of what he had just admitted to instead of normalizing it. You needed to push the issue if you had any hope of making it right.

But you didn’t.

“Nah, I’m just kidding,” Claude said, waving his hand as if to dispel the tension like it was nothing more than a bad smell. Then he stretched, yawned again. “Wow, I really am beat. Have you eaten yet? I wonder what the cooks are up to…”

“No, I haven’t,” you said belatedly, hollow words. Claude smiled and stood, holding a hand to you.

“Shall we?”

#Anonymous #claude von riegan #claude von riegan x reader #fe claude #fe claude x reader #yandere #fire emblem three houses #FE3H #my writing #long post //#i almost didn't do this particular quote because i did'nt know how #but i live for strife

133 notes · View notes

hansols-yoda-boxers · 4 years

Text

Kitten Ears - Part 11

Mingyu x Cat Hybrid Female!Reader x Hansol

Word Count: 4798

Contents: hybrid au, reader in heat, dry humping, oral (male receiving), being watched, threesome, dom svt, hand job, marking and bruising, clit stimulation, oral (female receiving), unprotected rough sex, hair pulling, creampie

Tag List: @skjdln, @funinfundamental, @kwanismsworld, @taikalinna, @svt-mangos, @strawberry-artini, @lovesickmark, @cliffordmonarchy, @skylions-den, @karenbcy, @jisooderulo, @sleepy-star-boy, @brokenheartloving, @sno-leopards, @livorna, @jaehyunluvcult, @chanivity, @seonghlory, @jqehyu, @kwanseo, @vernon-van-chwe, @lets-get-1t, @tearsofsyrup, @thisisgospelofthehorizon, @daydreamsfor, @exuwu, @jookyunhoevercoupshoe, @dumbasswoozi, @seventeeneration, @yumikitty74

Note: It really is wonderful that this part was scheduled for your birthday, right @thetypingpup? I hope it’s a good addition to your gifts. If this scheduling works See you in 21 minutes.

The last week of your heat was almost unfair. Even though Jun had been so good to you yesterday you were now slinking around the house like…

Well like a cat in heat.

You knew your fever was up again and your body was shaky as you made your way through the house. You had no clue who was around and at this point you didn’t care. At this point you didn’t bother trying to get off on your own, you knew you would just end up frustrated. Your need was overriding any other feeling at the moment and you were ready to throw yourself at the first person you saw.

You were trying not to think about that feeling too much. There were only a few members of the house you hadn’t fooled around with and at this rate you might end up with all of them by the end of your heat. And as much fun as it was and as good as they had all made you feel so far, that thought didn’t make you feel very good.

You weren’t sure who was up. It was late and you hadn’t paid attention to when people had gone to bed. No one had been in the living room or the kitchen when you passed by and it seemed most of them were asleep. You whined, your tail flicking in annoyance and impatience as you turned the corner in the hallway.

You and Mingyu locked eyes, his hand on the handle of his door and you mid step, both of your frozen in the dark hallway. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks but Mingyu’s face was blushing quickly as well, so at least it wasn’t just you. Even from down the fall you could smell him and your mind was caught between being embarrassed and pouncing on him.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered. You gripped the wall a little tighter. It was unreal how enticing he smelled. It wasn’t even the scent of arousal, his natural scent was making you dizzy and clouding your mind with lust even if your brain was telling you you should be embarrassed since he caught you in the kitchen with Jun yesterday.

“Are you… feeling okay?” he looked a little unsure and flustered. You pressed your lips together and willed your whimper to die in your throat as you nodded slowly, wandering a little closer to him. Concern started to colour his face as he took in the sight of you. Your body was shaking as he reached out and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“You’re really burning up,” he frowned. “You- oh,” a deeper blush took over his cheeks.

“I-I knew you needed- I mean I know you’re in heat but I guess you want to- uh- you need that right now, right?” he was clearly flustered but from the scent started to wafted off of him you knew he was turned on by the thought.

“I do,” you pouted. He let his hand move down to cup your cheek, seeming to contemplate what to do. His thumb brushed your skin softly and you whined at the sensation, pressed your face into his touch. You turned your head a little and sucked his thumb gently between your lips before gazing at him sweetly.

“Fuck,” he cursed softly and you grinned just a little at the affect it was having on him. “If you want to come into my room, we can-”

Mingyu gasped as you nearly knocked him over, pushing him back into his room. Your lips kissed at his neck and jaw hungrily as you pushed him down onto the bed. You moved to climb on top of him and he moved back a little so he was properly on the bed as you straddled his hips and leaned back down.

You captured Mingyu in a searing kiss and he was quick to return it. His hands found your hips and he held you tightly as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. He let you deepen the kiss but quickly turned it around, pressing his tongue past your lips and kissing you sloppily. You whined and started to roll your hips down into him, desperately needing more friction.

Mingyu cursed under his breath and you could smell the fresh wave of arousal. You whined into his mouth as you ground down harder. He panted between messy kisses as he started to roll his hips up, meeting your movements, guide your hips down on his and you could feel him getting hard in his sweatpants. Your fingers dug into his hair and you tail flicked quickly as you moved on top of him. Mingyu’s fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and you broke away for a moment to let him pull your shirt over your head.

That fact that he was getting turned on so fast was only making you needier. You were whining and moaning with every single movement and Mingyu was cursing between kisses and breathy groans. His grip on your hips was tight as you guided you to grind down hard into him, meeting your movements.

Mingyu let his head fall back and your lips moved along his jaw. You whined lowly before sucking at a spot on his neck, your tail flicking quickly. Mingyu’s chest was heaving as you moaned at the feeling. The scent of his arousal was strong now and it was absolutely dizzying. The way he was moaning was intoxicating but you desperately wanted to move on.

“Mingyu,” you whined, pulling away from the fresh hickie on his neck. He caught you in his heated gaze, eyes heavily lidded and lips swollen from messy kisses. His hair was a mess from where you’d grabbed it and your mind was quickly filling with a million options. You didn’t know what you wanted to do next, it felt like your mind was short circuiting.

“Fuck, your lips are pretty,” he breathed. He let his hand trail up your side and you whimpered at his touch as he brought his hand to your face. His thumb brushed over your lips and wiped a small amount of drool from the corner of them. “I want to see them wrapped around my cock so badly.”

There was no way you could stop the moan that fell from your lips at his suggestion. As much as you needed relief, hearing more of his moans and knowing that you were the one to make him feel that good. That was too good to pass up.

Mingyu gave you a grin as he sat up on the bed. He kissed you again and you pressed as close as you could, the taste of his lips so enticing. He broke away with a chuckle and helped you move to the edge of the bed. You slipped down onto the floor, settling between his knees as he shifted his hips up and pushed off his sweatpants and boxers.

You took in the sight of his cock, nearly fully hard against his stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head. As much as the sight was only turning you on more, you felt a little nervous as you realized you didn’t know what you were doing. Well, you knew in theory but you had never actually done it. Mingyu seemed to notice your hesitation as he threaded his fingers into your hair.

“First time?” you could swear there was a teasing edge to his voice.

Heat rose in your cheeks. “Maybe,” you mumbled, not sure why you felt embarrassed. Mingyu played with the edge of your ear and smiled a little more softly as he coaxed you closer.

“Then I’ll help you out.”

Mingyu guided you to wrap your hand around the base of his. You started to pump him slowly as you brought your lips to the tip of his cock. You peered up at him and whined at the way he gazed down at you. You let your tongue lick around the tip before gently sucking it into your mouth. A groan fell from his lips and he guided you gently with his hand. You did your best to keep pumping him slowly as he moved your head along his cock, coaxing you to take a little more of him into your mouth with each movement.

The more groans and curse words that fell from his lips, the more confident you became. You followed Mingyu’s rhythm at first but as you started to get the hang of it his grip loosened just a little in your hair. You gazed up at him sweetly, catching sight of his heated expression. That coupled with his scent was driving you crazy. You tried twisting your wrist just a little as you moved your hand and Mingyu groaned louder. His fingers moved to one of your ears and he dragged his nails lightly up the inside.

You let out a moan around his cock, wrapping your fist around him more tightly. You moved your mouth more quickly, hollowing your cheeks and taking in the way his arousal built more and more. His hips started to rock into your mouth gently as he teased your ears. Your moans were muffled around him as you moved more quickly and took as much of him into your mouth as you could. Mingyu let his head fall back, getting lost in the feeling and bucking his hips a little more roughly. You knew he was getting close and part of you wanted very badly to bring him to release with your mouth.

Your nose picked up on the new scent before your ears caught up. But amid Mingyu’s moans and curses you knew someone was at the door. You peeked up at him but his eyes were screwed shut as he chased his high. You took him deeply into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled off of his cock completely. You were sure Hansol was in the hallway, you were sure that was his scent.

And you were sure he was touching himself.

You felt your cheeks heating as your ear flicked towards the doorway to take in more of the sound. Mingyu whined and peeked down at you as you threw a look over your shoulder at the doorway. You weren’t sure if Mingyu could see but your vision was very good in the dark and you could very clearly see Hansol peeking in.

You probably should have closed the door.

You knew you would normally be incredibly embarrassed, but the scent of his arousal was already in your nose and your only thought was how to get him to join you.

“Hansol,” you called sweetly. Mingyu scrambled to cover himself, straining to see Hansol in the dark, and Hansol nearly jumped out of his skin, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Are you having fun out there?” you giggled.

Hansol peeked his head in, partially hiding behind the door and you knew he had his hand in his pyjama pants.

“I-I’m really sorry, I c-can go-”

You shook your head quickly. “You should stay,” you whined. You turned to look up at Mingyu, perking up your ears and swaying your tail sweetly.

“Right, Mingyu?”

“I mean I-” his eyes shifted between you and Hansol and you bit back a grin as the idea got him worked up. “I’ve never thought about it…”

“It would be fun,” you gave him the cutest look you could muster. “Please?”

He swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah, if H-Hansol wants to,” his voice cracked, though he tried to keep it steady.

You smiled at Hansol cutely and held out a hand to him. “Hansollie, do you want to join us?”

Hansol bit down on his lip and nodded as he slipped into the room, closing the door behind himself. You could smell both of them so strongly now as Hansol approached the bed a little nervously and it was enchanting. Mingyu pulled you to your feet and slipped your leggings off before pulling you back against him. As soon as Hansol was within arms length you gripped the waistband of his pyjamas and pulled him towards you. Hansol let out a yelp as you pulled his hips into yours before capturing him in a kiss.

He was quick to relax and kiss you back. His hands found your waist and yours stayed on his hips as he sighed against your lips. You felt Mingyu’s hands on your hips as he started to kiss at your neck. He pressed into your and started rocking his hips, grinding his cock against your ass. You mewled into Hansol’s kisses as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, deepening the kiss.

Mingyu started to suck lightly on your neck and you whimpered, gripping Hansol a little more tightly, pulling him ever closer. Your body was burning for more but you also wanted to hear them both moaning so desperately. You tugged his pyjama pants down his hips a little and when he only kissed you harder you pushed them down enough to take his cock into your hand.

Hansol let out a groan as you started to pump him. You knew your movements were a little clumsy but he didn’t seem to care, enjoying the feeling anyway. Mingyu moved to suck another hickie higher on your neck, grinding harder against your ass. You let out frustrated whines against Hansol’s lips as your tail batted against Mingyu’s side and the bed. You needed more and this was starting to drive you crazy.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu murmured. “You want a little something too, don’t you?”

You whimpered against Hansol’s lips, partly in response and partly from the shift in Mingyu’s tone. You felt Mingyu’s hand move from your hip. He slipped it between your legs and you moaned as he teased you lightly over your panties. The attention to your sensitive core was welcomed but it wasn’t enough. Mingyu had to know he was teasing you and it was only going to make you more frustrated. Your wrist moved even more sloppily on Hansol’s cock as you broke away from the kiss. His lips moved to your neck, sucking hungrily at your skin.

“Mingyu, please,” you whined, your ears flattening against your head. You swore both of them were smirking.

“You worked pretty hard to please me but are you working hard enough to please Hansol? You wanted him here so badly you better make it worth his while,” Mingyu teased.

Your face was hot, though whether it was from the teasing or your fever, you couldn’t tell. You were getting to the point where you just desperately wanted to get off. You brought your other hand to wrap around Hansol’s cock and you pumped him quickly, twisting your wrists as you moved your hands.

Hansol nearly choked on his moans as he gripped you a little more tightly, steadying himself. He started to groan against your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin. Mingyu hummed as he rocked his hips into you a little harder. His fingers pushed your panties to the side and he brought two fingers to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles.

You moaned loudly, your legs trembling as you leaned your weight back into him and whimpering for him to keep going. Your hips bucked against his fingers as they moved on your sensitive bud. You let your head fall back as you panted, your tail flicking quickly. You were so desperate for more and more as you tried to grind against his fingers, your grip tightening around Hansol’s cock. He cursed under his breath at the feeling, bucking into your hand.

Mingyu pulled his fingers away suddenly and you hissed angrily, almost whipping around to bite him. You were incredibly needy now and the fact that both of their scents were encircling you wasn’t helping in the slightest. You glared at Mingyu as he chuckled.

“Don’t give me that look,” he chided jokingly before kissing right under your ear. His voice was much lower when he spoke again and it sent heat rushing to your core.

“Why don’t you get on the bed, pretty girl?”

A whimper left your lips as you quickly scrambled onto the bed, sitting up on your knees eagerly. Mingyu moved to kiss you as Hansol slid off his pyjama pants and pulled off his shirt. Mingyu’s fingers moved around your back and he slide your bra off before climbing around behind you. He pressed his palm to your back and you gasped as he pushed you down onto you hands. Hansol climbed onto the bed in front of you as you felt Mingyu lift up your ass so you were properly on your hands and knees.

You tried to be patient as Mingyu’s hands ran over your ass, Hansol’s fingers playing with your hair and rubbing your ears in a way that had you whining. You felt Mingyu slowly pull your panties down, groaning at the sight of your core and you looked up at Hansol sweetly. A slight blush rose up his cheeks and he bit his lip at the sight, threading his fingers into your hair.

“Can you open up for me, pretty girl?” Hansol’s voice was a little less sure. You knew he was going for a confidence that he was a little too flustered to achieve. You gave him a sweet smile before you let your mouth fall open for him. He cursed quietly at your reaction before easing his cock past your lips gently.

You let out a sudden moan as you felt Mingyu’s tongue dragging through your folds. He brought his tongue to circle your clit slowly, groaning at the taste of your arousal. He gripped your thighs tightly as they trembled.

You did your best to focus your mind on Hansol’s cock, trying to steady yourself on one hand as you brought the other to wrap around the base of his cock. You started to move your mouth along his length and he let out a breathy moan. He gazed down at you and you gave him a sweet look as you hollowed your cheeks.

“God that’s such a pretty sight,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it?” Mingyu hummed before sucking your clit between his lips.

You moaned around Hansol’s cock as you tried to take more of it. Your fingers and sharp nails dug into the soft sheets underneath you as you tried to match the movements of your hand and your mouth. As Mingyu sucked more harshly, passing his tongue over your swollen clit, you moved your mouth along Hansol’s cock faster.

You pulled back for a breath, bringing your hand to tease the tip of his cock and you moaned out loudly as Mingyu gripped your ass more roughly and his tongue dove into your soaking heat. Shocks of pleasure coursed through you as his tongue brushed past your sweet spot roughly. Your legs were starting to tremble from the feeling and the coil was tightening in the pit of your stomach quickly. You started to grind back against Mingyu’s face as you tried desperately to suck Hansol off. His moans were climbing a little higher and getting breathier and there was a pink blush on his cheeks as he rocked his hips forward gently.

Mingyu brought his fingers underneath you to rub against your clit, quick and rough, and you moaned out around Hansol’s cock as you came hard on Mingyu’s tongue. Your body shook as the waves of bliss washed over you and you pulled back off of Hansol’s as your arm gave out and you collapsed onto the bed, panting.

Hansol dragged his fingers along your ears gently and you whimpered and gasped at the feeling, your ears twitching from how sensitive they were. Mingyu gently let you down onto the bed as you caught your breath. He rolled you over onto your back and you gazed up at him and Hansol with heavily lidded eyes. Both of them were stroking themselves slowly as their eyes grazed over your form. Your fever hadn’t fully broken but in your moment of relief you felt shy, much more like your usual self than you had all day. Your cheeks started to burn as you whined, looking between them and pulling your legs together.

Mingyu moved beside you, his fingers playing with your hair gently. “There’s no need to be shy now, pretty girl,” he murmured.

You whimpered, gazing at him sweetly for a moment before looking away shyly again. Mingyu cooed at you as Hansol rubbed his hand along your thigh soothingly. You felt Mingyu’s thumb brush over your lips and you hesitated for a moment before sucking it into your mouth, the motion soothing you a little. You let your eyes flutter open to look at him.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for us,” Mingyu hummed. “Isn’t she?”

Hansol had moved so he could press kisses along your hip. “You’re perfect,” he murmured.

“Are you up for some more, pretty girl?”

The first orgasm had helped, but it didn’t fully satisfy you. You knew that if you stopped now you would be frustrated again in half an hour. And the way they both started down at you, the mix of love and lust in their eyes, and the strong scents of their arousals, such a sweet scent. Your mind was made up.

“Please?” you asked sweetly.

They both grinned at you as Hansol moved to slowly spread your legs before settling between them. Mingyu knelt by your head, his fingers playing with your ears and making you whimper quietly as Hansol took a moment to drink in the sight of you. His hands slid along your thighs as you gazed at him, catching his eye and watching the slight blush creep up his cheeks.

He leaned over you, aligning himself with your entrance and giving you a sweet, eager kiss before he pushed into you with a moan. You let your head fall back into the pillows with a gasp at the stretch and how sensitive you were already. Your gazed flickered up to Mingyu as he continued to stroke one of your ears slowly.

“Move nice and slow for her,” Mingyu hummed, his gaze shifting from Hansol to you. “She’s already sensitive.”

You let out small, high pitched moans as Hansol thrust into you slowly. He kept his movements shallow but in your sensitive state the feeling was already heavenly. Waves of pleasure washed through you with each roll of his hips and your eyes started to flutter closed as Hansol hide his face in the crook of your neck, cursing under his breath and groaning. Fingers threaded into your hair before you felt a sharp tug and you gasped, looking up at Mingyu.

“Keep those eyes open, pretty girl,” he cooed.

Mingyu started to stroke himself slowly again as he moved two fingers to your lips. You let your mouth fall open and he pressed his fingers inside. You wrapped your lips around them and sucked, moaning and whimpering from Hansol’s thrusts. He was panting as he started to thrust a little faster.

“Keep it slow,” Mingyu growled at him and Hansol obeyed. His movement slowing down but going ever deeper. You squeezed your thighs around him, started to rock your hips up into him, your tail flicking against the bed. You wanted him to go faster just as much as he did.

“God, I n-need to go f-faster,” Hansol breathed.

“Please,” you gazed at Mingyu sweetly, your words muffled by his fingers. “P-Please.”

He gave you a soft smile that contrasted his domineering demeanor. “Since you asked so nicely pretty girl.” He ran his fingers through Hansol’s hair before pulling on it sharply and making him gasp. “And since Hansol wants to get off so badly, don’t you?”

Hansol panted and nodded before Mingyu released his hair and returned to stroking himself. Hansol picked up his pace, his thrusts coming much faster and both of you moaned out loudly at the feeling. You struggled to keep looking up at Mingyu, his fingers still in your mouth and he bit his lip at the sight of your sweet gaze staring up at him.

Hansol’s hips started to snap into you faster and faster as he chased his high and your moans and whimpers climbed higher and higher. You bucked your hips up against him and Mingyu pulled his fingers from your mouth, pulling your hair back sharply, a reminder to keep your eyes open. You moaned out, Mingyu’s eyes taking you in hungrily as Hansol groaned out your name. Your arms around his neck held him tightly and your nails dug into his back. Mingyu dragged his nails roughly along the inside of your ear and you gasped, bucking and clenching around Hansol.

Hansol’s hips stuttered to a stop as he cried out your name, releasing into you. You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum filling you more and you held him tightly. You were so close and you wanted him to move again so badly.

You pouted up at Mingyu as Hansol pulled out of you and rolled to the side, panting. He let his hand trail along your arm lazily and sweetly as he came down from his high. Mingyu gave you a smirk before getting up off the bed. He moved around to the end and you gave him a curious look as he reached for your thighs.

You let out a squeal as he pulled you to the edge of the bed in one movement. You didn’t have time to catch your breath before he sunk his cock into you, eliciting a moan from your lips.

Mingyu’s pace was rough and it was clear he was close from how much he’d been teasing himself. Your moans came high pitched in between gasps as his hips snapped into yours, each of his thrusts deep.

He let out groans and growls of your name, holding your hips tightly enough to bruise. You gripped the pillow under your head, your hips bucking up against him as much as they could and you struggled to keep your eyes on him as he fucked you hard, bursts of pleasure crashing through you with each snap of his hips. You nails dug into the soft fabric of the pillow and your legs started to shake as the coil in the pit of your stomach tightened. Your ears were pinned flat to your head and your tail flicked widely against the bed.

Mingyu moved one hand to press on the base of your stomach. His fingers were splayed out against your skin as he pressed his thumb against your clit and rubbed it back and forth, quick and rough.

You screamed out as you came hard. Mingyu’s hand kept your hips in place as they tried to buck up, pleasure coursing through your body. Your legs shook and your eyes rolled back before falling shut, the waves of your release crashing over you. Mingyu let out a string of curses as he thrust into you hard and held himself there, his cum making you feel impossibly full as it started to leak out around his cock.

You whimpered as Mingyu pulled out of you with a groan. He held up your shaking legs and cursed under his breath, taking in the sight of you. Hansol moved to the edge of the bed and bit his lip as they watched their cum leak from your core. As you caught your breath you whined and weakly tried to pull your legs together.

Mingyu let your legs down gently and he and Hansol helped you back onto the bed. Hansol laid down beside you and you curled into him, trying to calm your shaking. You pressed your face into his chest and whimpered as Mingyu cleaned between your legs. Hansol hushed you and Mingyu tried to be gentle, knowing you were sensitive. He was quick to grab some boxers after that and throw Hansol his pyjama pants before climbing onto the bed and spooning you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

You nuzzled into Hansol’s chest, finally feeling relaxed. A purr emanated from your chest and both of them let out content sighs.

“You’re feeling better?” Hansol asked sleepily.

You nodded tiredly, yawning before snuggling even closer. Mingyu let out a little chuckle.

“That wasn’t too rough, was it?” he asked, though you could hear the slight smile in his voice.

“It was perfect,” you murmured.

“Good,” hummed Mingyu. “Good night, pretty girl.”

“Good night,” Hansol whispered, kissing your forehead.

“G’night,” you hummed.

783 notes · View notes

yntcdtyler · 5 years

Text

so here’s my lover secret session’s story... 02/08/2019 london 🏹🇬🇧

i got my dm on twitter on july 16th at 5:15pm and i looked at it thinking someone was trying to boo boo the fool me and it was really gonna say something like “stream ME!” so i opened it not thinking much of it and my heart literally SANK when i saw it was actually REAL. i got the phone call 4 days after from a girl called sara who was from Taylor Nation, she told me everything and i was literally in the storage room in work crying.

so it’s finally august 2nd.. i got up at 5am cause i literally had 4 different trains and 2 ubers to catch, when i finally got to my hotel it was around 11am, i checked in and got ready and went to the meeting point. i was literally the first one there so i panicked thinking i was at the wrong place but more people started to show up and immediately everyone formed little friendship groups who they seemed to have stayed with the whole day which was insane. i met lisa and emma which i’d recognised from twitter because we’d been following each other for so long and then georgia, evie & shiv all came over and we all just bonded and instantly became friends and realised we we’re the brits of the group, there were SO many international fans and it was amazing seeing people come from all over the world! our group was first on the bus and i’m not sure why but we were literally all crying like wtf was going on?? we drove past a few ambulances thinking ‘that’s gonna be our ride home after tonight’ cause at this point i’m like dying and then we finally got to THE HOUSE.

we all go inside, the ME! playlist was on, there was a huge moose head on the wall which we all became really intrigued by, a huge mirror to see ourselves ugly crying, there was food & drinks and little m&m’s with ‘lover’ and hearts on them and i have no idea what was going on in my mind at this point, like i didn’t know what to expect.

so then we all go to the living room we’re there was a bunch of cushions on the floor and a chair and speakers in front of us and i KNEW what was about to go down lads, it’s about to happen, we’re about to hear lover and i just wasn’t ready and i was sat THERE in front of the chair and a few minutes later... SHE COMES OUT FROM BEHIND THIS DOOR LOOKING LIKE LIKE AN ACTUAL GODDESS THAT JUST STEPPED OUT OF HEAVEN AND I DEAD ASS DIED RIGHT THERE THINKING ABOUT THAT AMBULANCE I SAW EARLIER ON CAUSE SHE JUST WASNT REAL. so she’s like “welcome to the lover secret sessions” and the noise that came out me was actually not human at all. she played half the album the first and kept apologising for ranting and going off topic which was so funny, she’s so adorable i was literally in awe. then was like “we’re gonna take a break so you can all go the bathroom, have a drink and stretch your legs” and then mentions she’s made us treats and everyone’s like OMG and she’s literally like “it’s just rice crispy treats i dyed in heart shapes” and it was just the funniest thing bc she’s just so sarcastic but they were the cutest things and just knowing she spent time making them was honestly insane. like i ate a rice crispy heart treat..made by taylor swift? sounds fake. so then as she’s passing them around, she’s goes into the garden and starts talking to everyone and thanking people’s parents and let everyone on her trampoline and just shouts “THESE ARE MY KIDS” with a glass of wine in her hand and it was such a taylor swift moment. it was just surreal like wtf? imagine bouncing on taylor swifts trampoline? i would’ve went on it but i wasn’t about to break my neck before listening to the rest of the album x

okay so we go back in to listen to the rest of the album and throughout the whole album listening part, i just kept crying and she kept looking at me and smiling and singing and i was just bloody in shock. there was one point during a song we’re me and georgia we’re holding onto each other crying and she just looks at us and tilts her head and gives us the most warming smile. right there we both died together it was unreal. but the album HOLY SHIT every song was INSANE. i found it so hard to pick a favourite so i have 3, this album is literally her BEST, and this coming from a speak now stan🤝 i was just the happiest i’ve ever been, it just seemed like a dream. seeing her sat there in front of me so happy and in such a good place, feeling so proud of this album and these songs just made my heart feel so full. what i was feeling in that moment is unexplainable. just pure happiness like i knew life doesn’t get any better than this... right it’s time for the meet and greets and everyone goes back in to the other room whilst they got ready and people started queuing then to go in and meet her, she spent so much time with every single person and seeing everyone’s faces coming out that room was so magical. the event was supposed to be over at 11pm and it’s literally 1:30am when it was my time to meet her. she’d literally been meeting people for HOURS and is 2 and half hours past the end time and she didn’t even mind. everyone was so eager to go inside that me and the girls decided to wait till the end.

so evie had just come out and now it’s my turn. i almost fainted, i was so dizzy and nervous and WHEN I TELL U I WAS PETRIFIED TO GO INSIDE, I ACTUALLY MEAN IT BECAUSE I WAS STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOOR REFUSING TO GO IN FOR ABOUT A MINUTE CAUSE I COULD JUST SEE HER STOOD THERE AND I WASN’T READY BECAUSE LIKE I’VE DREAMT ABOUT THIS MOMENT SINCE FOREVER. emma and lisa we’re stood there laughing trying to force me inside as well as a girl from TN. took me a good minute but i finally walked in, i walk over to her trying not to cry AGAIN and she’s stood there smiling at me and she says to me “it’s tyler isn’t it?” and i was like JDJSKDJD “yeah 😭😭😭😭” cause i didn’t think she knew who i was and i was just randomly picked by TN??? she then pulled me in for the biggest hug and i just felt like this is it, i’m gonna bloody pass out. I TOLD HER THAT WAITING IN THAT QUEUE TO MEET HER WAS LIKE WAITING FOR THE ELECTRIC CHAIR and i was like why tf did i just say that omg but she laughed and was like “omg hahaha it’s like waiting for the electric chair that’s so funny” then i gave her the lover necklace i’d gotten made for her so we had matching and she kept saying how much she loved and how beautiful it was. then said “i love your necklace” with a little smirk because i was wearing her ‘TS’ initial necklace and my heart just went HDAJHDJDDH. then she asked did i enjoy the day and i was like of course??? it was so amazing i couldn’t stop crying and she was like “aw i had so much fun, i love doing these” and then she asked how i’d gotten here and i told her that i had to take 4 trains and she looked so shocked and thanked me for doing that and asked if i was travelling afterwards and i told her i had a hotel and she goes “omg good, PLEASE don’t talk to any strangers” and i’m just like YEAH OF COURSE ANYTHING FOR U MISS SWIFT :’)))) i hugged her about 3 more times and i asked her about tour, and how she found me and she said she’d found me on tumblr and literally said “its tylovestaylor right?” and i was just like WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK. IM SCARED. cause i barely use tumblr because i’m the only one who reblogs myself??? and i’d gotten my dm on twitter so my mind was like wtf is going on right now?? i told her i changed my url and she said she’d follow me 🥺 then says “so do you wanna like... take a picture together or something?” YEAH OF COURSE, IM A BIT OF A MESS RN BUT ABSOLUTELY. she asks what i wanted to do for the photo like stand, sit, go near the piano? and i told her to choose because my mind was just all over the place and she says to me “i think one sitting down with our legs crossed over acting all (then does some pose) and stuff” i just couldn’t believe what was actually happening. we sit down next to each other and she grabs my hand and i’m just holding her and the photographer takes the photo and she tells me to have a look to see if i like it and i said i looked so bad and she goes “ITS SO CUTE, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL AND PHOTOGENIC” then the photographer told me i was really photogenic and tay goes “SEE SHE EVEN SAID IT” did taylor swift..who invented photos and beauty... just call me beautiful and photogenic? surely not. so we took one more pic and she said she loved it so i loved it😭😭😭 we got up and hugged again and i just kept saying i love you and she told me i was beautiful and i was like SO ARE U???? and then i told her that i still don’t believe she’s real and she laughed. we hugged again i told her i loved her as i was walking out she shouts “please get home safely” and i said “have a safe flight wherever you’re going next” at the same time and she laughed and was like “OMG THANKYOU?” and i walked out and the emotions i was going through oh my god. i’d just met my favourite person in the entire world? like never in a million years did i think i’d ever meet her let alone get handpicked for secret sessions. i was in so much shock like it wasn’t real. that never happened? i’m still in shock now and literally crying writing this. she was so lovely and welcoming and spoke to me like she’d known me forever.

AND AFTER ALL THAT, SHE DECIDES SHE WANTS ME LITERALLY DEAD AND LIKES MY POST ON HERE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. RIGHT AFTER I’D MET HER.

i couldn’t get over how beautiful she is, inside and out like i already knew that but seeing her in real life is so different, she’s literally flawless and so cute and delicate and i’ll literally die for this woman. thankyou so much, from the bottom of my heart @taylorswift for choosing me out of 100m+ fans, i’ll never understand why i was chosen but i can’t explain how grateful i am. it was by far the best day i’ve ever had in my 18 years of being alive, nothing will ever come close to that moment. i cant wait for everyone else to hear this album, i miss you and your hugs already and i forgot to tell you because my mind was blank but i’m insanely proud of you and will support you forever. promise.

1K notes · View notes