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moondirti · 19 days

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kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

#unedited!#this idea's been over my ass like a symbiote #cackling and rubbing its greedy little hands together #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader x john price #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader #john price x reader #john price x kyle garrick #pricegaz #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #captain join price #john price #x reader #female reader #call of duty

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

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ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

i feel so warm inside hehe

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oftenwantedafton · 2 months

Text

A Consolation Prize - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Rating - Explicit

Word count 4K

CW - sexual content

Also available on AO3

There’s a birthday party being celebrated at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria this evening.

One of your female classmates is the guest of honor. Most of the seniors have been invited. The restaurant is full of teenagers. Swarming around the arcade games and occupying the tables. You’re one of the attendees tonight, wearing a lilac dress, something fluttery, filled with the promise of the upcoming summer, with a hem that barely kisses your knees.

William Afton watches you. On the security cameras from the privacy of his office. He notices you tend to hover on the edges of the crowded gathering. Not really participating in any of the festivities. Looking a little lost and out of place. Then he decides to watch you in person. While he mingles with the other adults. Inconsequential dialogue. Noncommittal answers. Small talk. Hawk eyes, hunter’s gaze. Tracking your movements throughout the evening. Your party outfit making him hungry. His fingers toy with the cigarette lighter in his pants pocket. The crinkle of the too rapidly emptying plastic pack rustling. Temptation calling. He makes up some necessary excuse to be away and slips outdoors. Fresh air. Silence. That first deep drag soothes him.

The nearby door opens. You’re standing there beside him now. Watching him. Waiting. Expecting something to happen. He feels the weight of those intense feelings draping over him.

Afton’s surprised you’ve followed him. Mulls that idea over in his mind, lets the chemical laced smoke roll in his mouth, considering the flavor, contemplating your sudden interest. “What are your intentions, coming out here, like this?” A brisk flick of his thumb sends a rain of ash and dying cinders to the pavement. He finally challenges your stare.

“I don’t have the car tonight. I need a ride home.” This last part mumbled. He hears the waver in your voice. Nervous. You’re afraid to be alone with him, like this. And yet you’ve sought him out. Perhaps wondering why he’s kept his distance over the past couple of weeks. Minimal interactions. Everything professional. It had not been easy for him. The desire for you is only stronger now that he’s had a proper sample of you. What a taste. Craving you. His own special blend. More addictive that the cigarette he brings back to his mouth. But he’s been waiting for this. Waiting for you to seek him out. He can take you whenever he wants. To have you come to him is something else entirely.

The smoke evacuates his nostrils. “None of your classmates are available? All those people inside, and none can assist you?” His tone is cool. A bit mocking in its condescending skepticism. Internally, he is triumphant. Rejoicing in this idea that you must rely on him. You need him.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t…you don’t want to…” You struggle to utter the words, to comprehend why he isn’t seizing what you’re offering. Puzzled by this seeming lack of greedy desire, perhaps. Disappointed. Yes, that’s the exact expression on your features. Exquisite. How perfectly he’s corrupted you already.

“It’s not about me wanting to or not. It’s about you. Wanting.” The end of the cigarette glows. He lets that notion sink in. Your eyes lingering on that burning cylinder. On the lips trapping it, then releasing, pursing to blow a stream of smoke. Your tongue darts out to moisten your own lips. A subconcious gesture. How shiny that mouth is, even in this evening outdoor lighting. A bit of silver moon captured there. Artificial yellow from one of the parking lot lamps. Little bits of glitter adorning those curves. You’ve got makeup on tonight. Mascara. Eye shadow. Blush. Lipgloss. Soft, neutral colors. Pretty enhancements, but you don’t need them. He prefers you without. Your natural palette.

“I do want…” Your voice trails off.

The restaurant owner clucks his tongue. “We’ve spoken about this. Not answering questions. These indecisive answers. An unacceptable way to respond. Disrespectful. Answer me properly. What do you want?”

“I want you to take me home.”

“Is that all? You want me to just drop you off at your front door?” A touch of amusement. He knows with certainty that is not nearly all you yearn for.

Your cheeks grow pinker. Your own color beneath the highlighted swatches you’ve dusted on. “I did what you asked. I’m not seeing anyone else.”

He scoffs. “Of course you’re not. But you’re deflecting. You still haven’t answered my question. I’ll assist you once again, but next time you’re to find the words on your own.” He leans towards your ear. “Do you want me to kiss you? Put my hands on you? Make you cum?”

A shuddering breath. William moves back, grinning around the paper roll clenched in his mouth again. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Yes, Mr. Afton.” You sound a little breathless. Panted words. He imagines your heart must be nearly pounding out of your chest. The anticipation. He feels it too. A slight tremor in the fingers that drop the remains of the cigarette to the asphalt.

“Good girl. Was that really so difficult? I can have the assistant manager close up so I’m free for the rest of the evening. Give me five minutes.”

***

Your kisses are fierce, angry.

Your teeth nip at the older man’s lips. Tongue stroking over the five ‘o clock shadow lining his jaw. Polished nails digging into him through the layers of his dress shirt and the thin cotton undershirt beneath it.

William pushes you away, interrupting the onslaught. As much as he’s enjoying your enthusiasm, he can’t help but be suspicious. He thinks he knows the driving force behind this sudden passion. It’s not merely the release of pent up desire after two weeks of abstinence. This is something else entirely. He can feel it. You’re there with him, but not actually present. And he’s not about to share you. “Your ex is at that party, isn’t he? That’s why you were in such a hurry to leave.”

Your lips part to protest but the unformed words die instantly. Your shoulders sag defeatedly and you look away, worrying your bottom lip.

“Answer me.” His fingers grip your chin and turn your face back to face his own.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

“The new girlfriend there too?” He sees the look of surprise in the soft green glow of the instrument panel. He hadn’t even had a chance to shut the car off before you’d pounced on him. “Creature of habit. I did warn you about that. There was bound to be another waiting in the wings. The one he’d cheated with. Or someone else. Either way, the same result in the end. Undeserving of this devotion you cling to. This loyalty.” His lip curls contemptuously around this last word. “Isn’t he?” He prods, the words nearly growled.

“Yes.” Your voice is tight. “But you’ve been ignoring me.”

He blinks, surprised by this declaration. “Is that what you think? You do not dictate the parameters of this…contract between us, if you will. You are the servant, not the master.”

“Playing games doesn’t sound much more admirable than what he’s done to me.”

“Hmm.” William releases his grip on your chin, sighing. “You’re still defending him. Comparing us. You’re not truly over him yet.”

“It’s a little difficult when it’s thrown in your face every day,” you reply bitterly.

“Well, be that as it may, high school isn’t forever. You’ll both move on. And you’ll wonder why you ever made such a fuss over it.” He kills the engine and cranks the driver’s side window down a little. It was getting too warm inside the vehicle already.

“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to feel anything right now,” you murmur.

The older man taps the edge of the last package of cigarettes he has against his palm, driving the tobacco down evenly into the filters. He’ll have to replenish his supply soon. “Unfortunately that’s not how life works, sweetheart. There is no quick and easy fix when it comes to these situations.” He cocks his head to one side. “You actually thought using me would help you feel better.”

“You told me to. That day in your office. You said it was okay to get revenge. Anyone could forgive it, being on the rebound.” You squirm in your seat, looking uncomfortable, perhaps feeling a little guilty over your deception.

“Yes, well. I didn’t think you’d take it to heart to quite this extent.”

“What does it matter? You’re just using me, too.”

William stares sightlessly through the windshield. There’s nothing to see in this wooded area past the shoulder of the road he’s pulled the car off into. It irritates him. Earlier he’d been so convinced you’d wanted him, but now it seems you merely want to distract yourself from your feelings for someone else. Settling for whatever you can get. A consolation prize when your first choice is no longer available. He tosses the unopened pack on the dashboard.

“You’re right. I am.” The pizzeria owner leans towards you. “You’re mine to use, remember that.” His tongue forcefully licks your mouth back open. A little moaning sigh escapes you. “You want to forget? I’ll make you forget. You won’t feel anything but the pleasure I gift you.” Aggressive flicks of his tongue now against yours. Fingers knotting in your hair possessively. He feels your body going limp against him. Succumbing. “You understand me?”

“Yes, Mr. Afton,” you reply breathlessly, gasping when his hand moves under the edge of your dress, sliding along the inside of your thigh. Caressing you through the crotch of your panties. You grind against his fingers. So eager. Impatient. But he’s going to make you wait. Beg a little. Earn your reward.

“Come outside with me.” He withdraws his hand, vacating your frantic sex, his lips parting from yours. The driver’s side door creaks when he opens it. Again when he slams it shut. You’re standing outside the passenger door now. Waiting. “Kneel down.” A beat of hesitation before you descend. Bare skin in the roadside dust and gravel, the dress too short to offer protection. The faint jingle of his belt being unfastened. Hastily slipping the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders, letting the loops fall against his hips. Leaning back against the car, steel and glass blessedly cool along the curvature of his spine. Cock freed from its encasement. Your fingers reach for him but he bats them away lightly. “Use your mouth.” Another hesitation, longer this time. “That’s right. First time doing this, isn’t it?” A barely perceptible nod in the near complete darkness. Up until this point he hasn’t really had you service him at all. Doing the dirty work for you. Well, not tonight.

You’re giving him so many of your firsts. Doing things with him you’ve never done with that useless ex of yours, with anyone else. He likes that knowledge. Savors it like he savors that first feel of your tentative lips on the head of his erection. Light tap of moist tongue. Tasting. Testing.

Night sounds in the background. Insects. Birds. The occasional passage of a car on the road nearby. The scent of the trees, the soil. The taste of your lip gloss still on his tongue. He’s debating about briefly interrupting you in favor of lighting another cigarette; a quick reach into the car and he’d have it. Your mouth advances and he discards the thought. Later. Right now he wants to focus on this. The opening you’re providing is so narrow. Jaw tight, almost clenched. Edges of your teeth lightly scraping as the bottom of his dick eases along the carpet of your tongue. Ridged firm roof of mouth dragged over the tip. The forceful gag reflex pushing the intruder back out. A little choking sound from you. Afton remains still, even though the impulse is to fuck his way right back inside. He forces himself to wait. He hears you swallowing down a fresh influx of saliva. The air is cool on his damp cock. Warm again when you take him back in. Brave little thing. Trying so hard. His fingers sink blindly into your hair. Caressing. Your body stiffening and then relaxing. Calming you. He’s murmuring things. Praise. Encouragement. Your mouth slackening. It’s working. Your confidence building. Taking him a little further. Another gag and retch. Your tongue dragging along the opening of his turgid member. Tracing curves. Stroking jagged veins. Wet kisses. His grip in your hair tightening. Hips stuttering forward. A little sound of surprise from you. But you’re adapting. Accommodating him. He’s fucking into your mouth. Shallow strokes. Not as deep as he’d like, but anything he’s receiving is more than he’s gotten in a long time. Thrusting more rapidly. Your hand splayed across the crest of his hip, curling tightly for support. His free hand latching onto it, overlaying your own. Air sawing roughly in and out. Matching the rhythm of his cock spearing your lips.

“That’s it, good girl, so perfect, I’m going to cum…” Pulsing onto your tongue. All the air leaves his lungs in a rush, dragging a moan with its departure. You’re tense again. Rigid. His seed sitting there inside your mouth, pooled beneath his prick. He can feel it as he withdraws, the overly sensitized flesh still twitching. Hears you swallow his seed, a loud gulp. Unexpected. Brave of you. What an absolute treat you are. He loves this little touch of depravity interspersed among the purity and innocence.

The older man helps you stand, his hands offering support, pulling you upright. His mouth immediately finds yours. The bitter taste of himself tainting you heavily but he doesn’t mind. If anything, it pleases him further. You’ve drunk from him. Taken his release inside of you. Let him violate your mouth. His cum filling your stomach. Only his. The other has never had this. Would never have this from you. Would never have anything from you ever again. He would make certain of that.

William’s fingers move back underneath your dress. Inside your underwear this time, fondling your sensitive flesh. Drenched. Ready to slake his thirst. He wrenches the passenger door open. “Sit down. Facing me.”

You hastily obey, settling sideways on the edge of the vinyl seat. The bottom of your dress is flipped back. The sound of Afton’s shoes scraping gravel as he descends. Jerking your panties off roughly and tossing them aside. Your hands scrabble to find support. The seat, the console, the dash. Thighs lifted and pressed back and his face now between them. You keen loudly at the first swipe of his tongue. He mercilessly sucks your clit. Thumb teasing your entrance, not entering, just dipping along the slickened divot there. Fingers of the hand curled around your thigh pressing deeply. Maybe he’ll leave behind a bruise. His mark on you where no one but you and he will ever see. Sweet words spilling from your lips. Pleading. Begging him. Releasing your hooded button just when you’re about to climax. Drawing it out a little further. You had been disappointingly still thinking of that boy earlier, after all. Still longing. He wants to obliterate him from your mind completely. A sound very like a sob. How frantic you are. Pushing against his fervent mouth. Nearly sliding off the edge of the seat. Damp skin squeaking on vinyl. You whine when he finally allows you to come undone on his ravenous tongue. A wounded sound, like an animal dying, so loud in the night.

***

William has no idea where your panties ended up.

He’s beside you in the car again, one wrist resting on the steering wheel, a lit cigarette issuing a thin stream of smoke into the air before him. You’re wedged close to the padded console dividing the front seats. His right hand cups the bare knee closest to him, stroking over the dirt and grit still lodged there in a lazy sort of caress. “I imagine it must be nearing your curfew,” he says quietly.

He feels you shrug. “My parents said I could stay out a little longer because of the party. And since I don’t have school tomorrow…”

“Hmm.” He takes another languid pull from the wrapped chemicals between his lips. “So what do you want to do now?”

“I didn’t eat at the party.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“And now you are?”

“Yes.”

Another puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose we could go somewhere to grab something. Though we should probably go through the drive thru. I don’t think it would be quite proper to have you in public like this.” He gently teases the inside of your thigh again, dragging the hem of your dress upward, fingers creeping along in a light graze. He stops halfway, letting his palm drop down onto your skin, pressing more firmly and eliciting a gasp from you. “You are still hungry, aren’t you?” Speaking now of desires of the flesh.

“Yes, Mr. Afton.” So polite. Obedient. Brought back under his spell. Pulling you away from the other. Making you his.

“Maybe, when we’re alone like this, you can call me William. Only when we’re alone,” he advises before taking another drag.

“William.”

A shiver runs through him. As much as he likes the formal address, that sense of control and authority he exerts over you, there’s something enticing about hearing this more informal declaration. Intimate. Your fingers reach for his face. Touch his cheek and curl around the nape of his neck. Your mouth moving against his. Different than earlier. Not urgent. No subterfuge. Just…properly with him. Something in that sudden soft caress of yours unnerves him nearly as much as the distracted aggression you’d unleashed earlier had. Touching without the goal of an eruption of pleasure, merely enjoying the sensation. Discovery. You’ve found the scars beneath his shirt collar. Tracing the twin pairs of curves that rear up like serpent’s heads forever locked in a staring contest. The furrowed line they rest on. His wife had never once complained about the marks after the accident, but he could always tell she did not care for them. Not outright disgust, but something akin to it. Another division between them. An excuse for less intimacy.

But here you are. Curious. Tugging on the bowtie, unfastening the knot. Thumbing open the collar of his shirt. Seeking out more of the marks that mar his skin. And it feels so good. Almost better than your mouth on his cock had been. Soft fingertips tucking into all those old hollowed spaces. Overwhelming. His fingers close over your probing digits, halting their exploration.

“You don’t like to be touched?”

“Let me be clear. This thing between us, it isn’t…that,” he says. “Not romantic, just because I kiss you or offer to take you out. You understand the difference?” Releasing your fingers from the prison of his own. The column of ash building on the end of the neglected cigarette extending further.

“I know. It’s just pretend. To forget.” Your hand drops back to your lap. You look a little sullen. He supposes you comprehend it. At least partially. Enough for now. “Do you ever regret what you’re doing, or feel guilty about it?”

“No. The older you get, the more you’ll come to realize that the only things you regret are the opportunities you don’t take advantage of.” He wasn’t a man that apologized often. He’s certainly not sorry for what he’s done with you thus far.

William grinds the remains of the unfinished cigarette into the ash tray. Maybe he wasn’t craving nicotine as much as he’d thought. He turns the key in the ignition. “Seatbelt on,” he reminds you, waiting until you’re securely restrained before he pulls back onto the road.

***

In the lighting of the parking lot of the fast food restaurant twenty minutes later, it’s become readily apparent just how disheveled you actually appear.

William sacrifices a napkin saturated with ice cubes from the soft drink you’ve ordered to try to scrub away the worst of the stains on your knees. The thin material shreds and he’s forced to use his handkerchief. You’re struggling to stay still at the icy touch. The chips melt against his fingers, water dripping down your shins. He doesn’t know why he’s so devoted to this particular task. As if he needs an excuse to touch you. Finally satisfied, he leans back and frowns when he notices your smudged makeup where your mascara had run. “Well, there’s only so much I can do. You should probably duck into the restroom before we leave.”

You flip the sun visor down and study your reflection in the mirror. “Wow. I look…”

“Completely ravaged. Properly fucked out.” Your gaze sharp on him. He’d forgotten to avoid the profanity. It seems foolish to apologize at this juncture, though. He digs a plastic spoon into the hot fudge sundae he retrieves from its resting spot on the dash and takes a bite, letting the chocolate sweetness dissolve on his tongue. You’ve got a French fry pinched between index and middle finger, hovering too close to his dish of ice cream for his liking. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You said we could share.”

“I didn’t say you could violate this dessert with that.”

“Lots of people do it. It’s good, you should try it.”

“No.”

You pout, dejectedly munching on the fried slice of potato. The windows are getting foggy. Humid from your breathing, the condensation building in the sharp contrast between warmth and the growing cooler temperature as the night progresses. He cranks the driver’s side window down. Watches as you lift the spoon he’d buried in the ice cream and bring it to your lips. There’s nothing sensual in that gesture and yet…it’s that knowledge. Something in his mouth now in yours. There’s another spoon in the paper bag he’d neglected to remove. You don’t seem to mind. His mouth waters. The impulse to kiss you right then surging through him. But he thinks better of it. So exposed. There’s a fair number of cars in the parking lot. Too brightly illuminated. He wishes he’d brought you back to the trees. To the darkness. Maybe let you touch him a little longer before he’d stopped you.

No. He’d had to end that. Nip that right in the bud. Choke it off before it went any further.

The spoon drags from your parted lips slowly. You seem to recognize the change in his features. The desire in the dilating pupils. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll take you home,” he commands, his voice suddenly rough. Not what you were expecting. Disappointment palpable. Your hand drags against the lever for the door. His head knocks back against the padded headrest after you exit. Something’s definitely changed with you tonight. The new informality with his name. Had that been a mistake? The gentle touches. Removing the stain of what he’d made you do to him. Stroking your skin. Your hands on his face, his neck. On his scars. Guilty pleasures. Except he doesn’t feel guilt, isn’t that what he’d told you?

You’re back inside the car again. Studying him. He can feel the weight if it. His eyes flick to your features. You look presentable now. Hair no longer untidy and mussed, face freshly scrubbed. As long as you didn’t dawdle too long once you returned home, they should be none the wiser. A quick goodnight to your parents. Shower. Bed.

“William?”

He’s thinking about what awaits him at home when you say his name. No warmth, no affection, no desire. He doesn’t regret granting you permission to call him that after all, he decides. He starts the engine and hands you the remainder of the dessert. A mischievous grin blooms on your features when you slather a fry with the sweet chilled substance. “Don’t you dare.” Trying and failing to look stern. You’re attempting to reach his face and force him to take a taste. He’s got your wrists trapped, imprisoned in the shackles of his fingers. You struggle. A giggle and a little squeak of alarm. He’s too strong. There’s melted ice cream sliding down your hand. The smile on your face fading. Staring at him. Into him. That’s what it feels like. Too deep. Too much.

Afton abruptly releases you. Hastily occupies his suddenly empty fingers with shifting gears and maneuvering the vehicle out of the parking lot.

Halted now at the last stop sign before reaching your house. Your gaze has been fixed on him the entire time. He turns to face you. Glancing briefly in the rearview mirror to make sure no one else is waiting. The last moments alone with you for the evening. Touching a knee again. Kissing your mouth. Both brief. All he’ll allow himself. Possessive markers, that’s all the gestures are. He knows the difference.

He returns you home safely. Sees you hesitating again before he dismisses you. Perhaps issued a little briskly. It’s effective. You’re gone.

He’s alone.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dividers credit @ saradika graphics

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illicitlimerence-writes · 1 year

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the 1 | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x ex!reader word count: 4k words (how the hell did that happen?) request: yes, by anon: “hi, can i request a story with charles and reader based on driver’s license by olivia rodrigo? maybe high school sweethearts that broke up because they couldn’t handle long distance (for charles ascending career). fluffy ending with them maybe getting back together years later and him being proud because reader is actually a really nice driver” prompt: character a and character b broke up, but now they meet at a christmas party. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: language, flashbacks, a ton of references to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo. THE AGES AND YEARS MIGHT NOT MAKE SENSE BUT I TRIED MY BEST lol a/n: day 6! i really didn’t plan this to be so long. what can i say… i have no self control. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

there was a time when sneaking around was fun, exciting. when their worlds revolved only around each other and the only worry in their minds was keeping their relationship a secret.

their friend group was a close knit one, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together, and when they’d reached the age of first boyfriends, girlfriends, and other partners, they’d all made a pact to never date someone from the group.

the fact that it was forbidden only made things more interesting for them.

what fools they’d been, hoping for a forever at such a young age, thinking their love would be eternal and nothing could ever come between them.

they thought they were in the clear, for so long their friends were unaware of the relationship between the two of them, they would reach an age where they would never care that they’d been hiding the truth for so many years.

six years together was enough to know they’d never feel a love like theirs.

but he was a passionate person, and whilst she loved when that passion was directed to her, on other occasions it felt as if she were the second option. the other thing to occupy his mind when he got tired of racing.

teenage daydreams turned into nightmares. their young age meant they felt everything. and everything was intense and fiery and red.

how ironic it was, that the color that had best described their secret relationship turned into a color that would chase him around wherever he went. that right when his career seemed to go the up, when his future looked gold, his personal life had hit an all time low, when the scarlet fire that burned between them had turned into ashes.

she always knew he was destined for greatness. and he was so determined and focused and so in love with racing that it was only natural, only obvious that he’d climb his way to the top teams of his sport in a short time. his talent was one that she’d neverseen in anyone, and he loved showing it off, not in a braggy way, but he knew what he was capable of, and he wasn’t afraid to show it, he saw no reason to hide it.

age 18.

“slow down!” she yelled as she laughed, holding onto the side of the car door. all the windows were down, as was the top, they were finally putting to good use charles’ convertible car.

“don’t listen to her, charles, speed up!” one of their friends, nate, added from the back of the car. the five of them were celebrating charles’ birthday, he was the first in their group to turn 18 and he’d just gotten his driver’s license, finally free to drive around wherever he wanted.

charles laughed, speeding a little before settling for a constant speed that wasn’t too fast or too slow.

“it’s a great thing your parents gave you a car, now we have a personal chauffeur,” she said, throwing a teasing smile his way. they were seating in the front, with their three friends in the back, but somehow it felt as if they were the only ones there.

“no, none of that. you have to learn how to drive, too, otherwise what are you going to do when i’m gone?”

“go with you, duh,” she rolled her eyes.

“hey, that is true, because at least we all know how to drive, we’re ready. but you don’t… why don’t you?” another one of their friends, elise, asked.

“i don’t know,” she shrugged, “i’ve never had the need to. and to be honest, i don’t know how good of a driver i’ll be if i ever sit behind the wheel.” she admitted.

“yeah, we’ve all seen you play mario kart, you always seem to find the wall.” charles laughed, making her hit his shoulder with a fist.

“shut up. keep that up and i won’t learn how to drive just to spite you.”

they laughed, enjoying the moment of freedom, just the five of them, five friends since birth, friends til death. five friends, two lovers.

it had been years since the five of them were all back home for the holidays, sometimes either only one of them was gone, or they were all away, but after three years, they were all back home at the same time. and that was something to be celebrated. they’d all seen each other throughout the years, but never the five of them at once.

charles arrived first, the christmas dinner was taking place at elise’s apartment, she’d just moved into her new place, so this worked both as a reunion and a housewarming. he’d decided to walk there, since it was on the same street as his building. he took the elevator and knocked on the door, he heard shuffling of feet approach and wrapped his fingers a little tighter around the neck of the wine bottle he’d bought.

“hey, charles, i wasn’t expecting anyone to be punctual,” elise laughed, moving aside to let him in.

“i’m the first one here?” he asked, raising the bottle, “this is for you, by the way. congrats on the new place,” he smiled.

“thank you! welcome, make yourself at home, but do take your shoes off because that white rug is new,” she smiled, walking to the kitchen, “and yeah, but nate called like two minutres ago, he and marie are on their way.”

“oh, and…” he didn’t finish, and it was finally hitting him that he’d be seeing her again.

“(y/n) is going to be a bit late, she had to go to the museum in nice so she’s probably going to be stuck in a little bit of traffic,”

“she’s- she didn’t take the train?” he asked.

“no, she drove there.”

“she drives?” he asked, sounding completely surprised by that. she was always so apprehensive whenever that topic arose in conversation.

“yeah! you didn’t know? she’s… you remember how we always used to joke around with her always crashing once she learned how to drive?” charles nodded, prompting her to continue, “she actually aced her driving test, both the technical and the written tests.”

“oh, i… i didn’t know that,”

“what happened with you two? you used to be inseperable. like, yeah, all five of us were close, but it was always charles and (y/n), and then us.”

“i- i’m not sure. i guess… distance and responsibilities was just a lot for our friendship.”

“well maybe you can rekindle that friendship now. it’ll do you both good.”

“yeah,” charles said, and right then the doorbell rang.

he felt like he needed some peace and quiet to think, but with his two friends arriving just then, that seemed impossible to get.

if he was honest, he hadn’t given himself much time to think about her. at first, of course, she was the only thing in his mind, they’d spent six years together, and he couldn’t believe how it was all slipping from his fingers so easily.

age 21.

she sighed as she heard the automatic voicemail message, she had been trying to call charles for the past five minutes and all she was met with was his pre-recorded message.

“charles, you better pick up this damn phone. i can’t believe you, how could you miss this? i asked you time and time again, even moved this three times for you. and where are you? not here. i- i don’t know if i can keep doing this. you always promise that i’m your priority, but that’s just not true. if you don’t want to be with me then just say it, i’m a big girl and i can handle it. but i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice. and i know that your career is important, trust me i know that better than anyone. all i asked of you was one night, one night for you to actually be there for me. you know what? forget it, don’t even bother coming. not to the museum, or to my apartment. and don’t worry about me, i’ll find my way home. i don’t need you to drive me around anymore.”

she hung up, staring out to the city of nice. it was the opening of a new exhibit in the museum of modern and contemporary art, an exhibit that she’d been a big part of, probably her proudest achievement, considering she was still a student in university. everyone was there for her. her parents, friends, classmates and workers from the museum. well, almost everyone.

charles hadn’t replied since earlier that morning. he didn’t wish her good luck, or even acknowledged the opening of the exhibit. he just said ‘see you tonight’. and that was it. he was in italy, had been for the past week. ever since the announcement that he was making the switch from sauber to ferrari she’d been seeing him even less than when he started racing in f1. she understood, of course, that there were certain responsibilities that came when being a ferrari driver. she knew that, she was his biggest supporter, but she wished that he was as passionate about her achievements as she was of his. or even acknowledge them and congratulate her.

many times she’d told herself that she was being selfish, of course things were going to change once charles made it to the big leagues, but things were changing too fast. he spent more time away from home than with her, and when he was home he was practicing on his simulator, or preparing for an interview, a ferrari event.

this was the last straw. it was a long time coming, and him not showing up, not even bothering to text back, this was enough.

she walked back inside, but stumbled into a waiter passing by, causing him to drop his tray on top of her. her dress now sported a wine-colored stain right in the middle. it was a dress charles had gifted her on one of their anniversaries. it was poetic, how the dress was now ruined, as was their relationship. she ran to the coat room, wrapping her black coat around her. she wasn’t going to let anything else ruin this night.

the next morning, she signed up for driving lessons.

two weeks later, she was getting perfect marks on both tests.

she once said she wouldn’t learn to drive just to spite him, but this was better. to show him that she didn’t need him anymore.

the four friends were having a nice time, drinking wine and eating chips and other snacks as dinner was cooking.

“elise, i swear, next time we’re hanging out at my place because finding a parking spot is impossible around here,” a new voice said, walking in through the front door.

there she was.

wearing a tan, long coat, a briefcase-style bag hanging from her shoulder, all black turtleneck sweater, leggings and boots on. makeup done to perfection, a deep shade of red on her lips.

“hello everyone,” she smiled, tossing her bag on the floor and walking to the dining area. “what did i miss?” she asked, and everyone started filling her in on their previous conversation topics.

she hadn’t even glanced at him. not once.

charles didn’t even know if she knew he was coming, if he was there at all.

it wasn’t until later, when everyone’s cheeks were flushed from the wine, when the leftover food was growing cold in the forgotten plates, and they were all sitting around the living room, sharing stories and memories of years’ past, that they talked to each other.

“... and the museum is doing a really cool charity event in late january, so that’s where all of our focus is right now,” she finished catching everyone up to speed about her job in the museum. ever since college that place had become her home. “you’re all invited, of course, we need all the help we can get.”

“when is it?” charles asked, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was impressed by everything she was handling in the museum, she did a little bit of everything, but those little bits eventually turned into big, great things. he was impressed, however, not surprised. he always knew she could do it, she’d fallen in love with art in her teenage years, the first time they visited a contemporary museum. they’d gone together, of course, and charles couldn’t forget the way her eyes widened, the way she clearly understood what the artist wanted to say, it was love at first sight.

“the 21st,” she turned to him. charles had expected a reaction from her, but she looked at him like he was just her friend.

“we’ll be there,” nate said.

“you’re not busy, superstar?” marie joked, looking at charles.

“i don’t think so. and if i am i’ll just move whatever to a different day.”

“you don’t have to do that,” she said, and this time charles caught something. her voice sounded a little harsher.

“i want to, we haven’t seen each other in so long, and you’ve done a lot for me, it’s only fair that i return the favor,” he smiled, wanting to get something more out of her, he got nothing, only a nod.

age 19.

“come on, you’ve been, quite possibly, the best person i ever could’ve asked for. it’s only fair i return the favor.” charles said, keeping his hand over her eyes as he led her to the surprise he’d prepared for her.

“you know i don’t need anything,” she chuckled, and he could feel her smile, the apples of her cheeks rising.

“well, this is more something for me, but it’s going to be good for you, eventually,”

“what do you mean?” she asked, still up for whatever he was planning. he removed his hand from her eyes. “what-”

“it’s your very own private driving lesson,” charles explained, making her laugh.

“charles, i don’t need to learn how to drive,”

“of course you do! you have to at least know the basics,”

“gas, brake, turn to the right, turn to the left, lights… i think i got it.”

“come on,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, “why don’t you want to learn?”

“i don’t know. i guess… i enjoy having you to drive me around, i like singing in the car with you, with the wind blowing in my hair, or just sitting in silence and watching the landscapes outside. i like doing that with you. plus… i’m afraid of having control of a car, because what if i lose control? what if the brakes fail, or someone crashes into me… it’s a lot to think about all the time. i think i’m just not made for driving.”

“well, lucky for you i was made for driving, and i like having you as my co-pilot, there’s no one else i’d rather have by my side.”

“it’s gifts time!” nate said loudly. “i’ll start,” he declared, standing up and picking a bag off the floor. “for you,” he started, handing a white envelope to (y/n), “and you,” he said, giving charles a small box, “and you,” he gave elise a wrapped gift that resembled a mug in shape, “and finally, you,” he said, giving marie a thin, long box.

they all opened theirs, marie got a hand-made friendship bracelet. elise got a new mug, charles got a pair of boxers with lightning mcqueen all over them, and (y/n) got a ticket to an exhibit in a parisian museum.

elise was next, then marie. as marie sat down, after handing everyone their gifts, charles pulled out his phone, sending a few pdf files to their groupchat.

“merry christmas, guys.” he said as all their phones rang. they all opened the files, each named after one of them, they were confirmations to a hotel booking, as well as a scanned picture of what would be their vip passes for the italian grand prix in monza.

“charles!”

“no way!”

“italia, mio home, here i come,” nate said, pinching his fingers together.

she gave him a small smile, muttering a ‘thanks’ as she stood up.

“well, now i wish i hadn’t been last, nothing can top that off,” she said, “but i hope you all like these. merry christmas, i hope we get to spend many more years as friends, and more evenings like this.” she said, handing them all their gifts and sitting down to watch their expressions. she loved giving gifts.

nate received a new gaming headset, eloise got a tea set, marie got a sweater, and charles got a replica of an f1 car, he inspected it closely.

“it’s made out of carrara marble,” she explained.

“wow, it’s… beautiful, thank you.”

“you’re welcome, i’ve… nevermind,” she said, charles was about to ask her what she wanted to say but was interrupted with nate announcing he was leaving. marie left with him, and not long after she was saying her goodbyes too.

“i guess that’s my cue to leave, too.”

“i didn’t see your car,” she said, she would’ve remembered seeing his car parked somewhere.

“i walked here, i didn’t see the point in driving,”

“huh,” she said, grabbing her bag and hanging it from her shoulder. charles frowned as she walked to elise, hugging her. “well, i’ll give you a lift if you want.”

yes, yes, yes, please. yes. go with her.

everything inside of him lit up at her offer, part of him couldn’t believe she was even offering in the first place. he said goodbye to elise quickly, rushing after her.

“wait up,” he said, jogging to catch up.

they didn’t speak as the elevator went down, she could feel his eyes on her, shifting away to try and be subtle. as they exited the building he had to follow her, he didn’t even know what car she drove.

“you’re shitting me,” he said, looking at the silver logo in front of the car.

“what? not all of us can afford a ferrari,” she said, “what? you can’t be seen inside a mercedes?” she smirked. out of instinct, charles walked to the driver’s side, but stopped in his tracks as she unlocked the door and watched him standing there. “i know this is usually your side, but you’re a passenger for these next minutes,”

charles was left speechless as he walked to the passenger side, it felt so foreign. especially when she was the one behind the wheel. he closed the door as he got in, and waited for her to turn on the car. he turned to her when she didn’t.

“seatbelt,” she reminded him.

charles couldn’t stop the small chuckle that left his lips.

“you’re a really responsible driver,” he said.

“of course i am. no one knows what might happen.”

“i- i have to say, it’s really weird seeing you like this,”

“i know. but… turns out i’m a damn great driver. it helps me relax, and it’s… thrilling, to work in sync with the right machine to get from point a to point b…”

“now you get what i feel with my cars.”

“i always got that,” she clarified. “i always knew how important driving is to you. it just hurt to know that it was more important than me.”

“it wasn’t- it-”

“oh, please,” she chuckled humorlessly, turning on the car, she checked the mirrors before leaving the parked space. “i’ve made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s okay to admit it. i’m but hurt. not anymore.”

“but it wasn’t i-”

“listen, i don’t… i don’t want to discuss this, racing was your number one priority and that’s completely fine, i get it. it’s normal to get so caught up in it that you forget about everything else. i’m sure i used to do that too, with the museum and all,”

“you did, but not like i did. and i… i’m sorry, for… making you feel like that.”

“like i said, i made my peace with that long ago, i don’t need an apology.”

“well, i still feel like i owe you one.”

“it’s fine, you don’t have to feel guilty. we were young, dumb, still feeling like we were teenagers, pretending to even know what future was like. we were each other’s first love, it’s normal to still have feelings.”

“do you?”

“what?”

“have feelings? for me?”

“i feel a lot of things, charles, and six years, plus so many more as friends, are not easy to forget. it would’ve been nice, you know.”

“what?”

“if you would’ve been the one. it’s a story just straight from a movie. do you think-” she cut herself off.

“what?” charles asked, and he remembered the other thought she’d stopped herself from saying out loud back at elise’s.

“do you think that… if one thing had been different… everything would be different? today? now?”

charles stayed quiet, thinking about every little thing he would’ve done differently.

“maybe. yeah.”

“yeah,” she repeated.

she’d been driving around in circles, they’d reached charles’ building about five minutes ago, but she hadn’t stopped driving. she kept doing the same four turns over and over again.

“what were you going to say… when you gave me the car?” he asked.

“oh, that. it’s… nothing, really. just… that i’ve had that for a long time.”

“since we…”

“it was going to be your birthday present.”

“and you never threw that away.”

“it’s made from the same material as ‘david’, i wasn’t just going to throw that away. or give it to someone who wouldn’t cherish it.”

“well… thank you. and congratulations on being a great driver, though… i don’t think the cameras will agree after seeing you pass here for the seventh time,” he said as she was making a right turn.

“thanks. and i guess… i have to thank you, too. if we… if we’d never broken up i… i never would’ve become me.”

“that… hurt,” he admitted. “but i get it. i should also thank you. you… did so much for me, gave up so much that i… i guess i took you for granted. and it only took having you away from me to really know how much you did for me without me even noticing. so… thank you. and i like this new you. you seem… happy.”

“i am. but still… i can’t shake the feeling that i’m missing something.”

“what?”

“you. even though you made me grow up, i still feel like i need to have my teenage side, and… there’s so much i want to do, but new me is responsible, she’s proper, she’s professional. and sometimes, i get tired of all of it. you always made me feel like a kid, in the best way possible, you made me feel like everything was possible, that it’s okay to let loose and have an adventurous side. i need that, i miss that.”

“well, i’m staying here all month. and i’m more than happy to help you rediscover your wild side.”

“don’t say it like that,” she laughed.

“no, no, i didn’t mean it like that, but-” he chuckled, “i guess that offer stands, too.”

“not happening. not now, at least.”

“so there’s a chance?”

“i don’t know. we’ll have to see.”

“i know. here’s adventure number one: drive to the harbor.”

“the- why?” she asked, driving there, anyway.

“we’re about to take a midnight stroll,” he explained.

“okay, but… why the harbor?”

“it’s not your typical stroll, we’re not the ones doing the walking.”

“then?”

“have you ever seen ‘sedici’?” he asked.

“what’s that?”

“my yacht.”

“a midnight boat ride?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“what do you say?”

“you better be a damn good captain as i am a driver,”

“you’d be surprised.”

“i’m ready to be surprised.”

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vendetta-if · 11 months

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4K Followers Celebration - Public Side Story Released 🎉

As voted by you guys, to celebrate the blog hitting 4K Followers milestone, I'll be releasing another side story to the public 🥳

The story that you guys chose is the one telling about the Vodka incident that Ash and MC talked about during the party! It's written in Ash's POV and it's more than 6K words long, so I separated it in two different posts.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Feel free to leave comments and send asks about it 🥰 And, if you guys are interested in supporting me, please consider checking out my Patreon or Ko-Fi page 💖

Without further ado, here are the links to the story!

Vodka Misadventure [Part 1] | [Part 2]

And, if you guys haven't, feel free to check out the linked post below to read other publicly released side stories!

Public Side Stories List

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

AEMOND POV

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Thoughts of manipulation and hurt, violence and assault. Obsessive themes and possessiveness.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: AEMOND!POV, Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Word count: 4k

Note: Two posts in one day? I am spoiling you all... but only because I love you hehe. This is Aemond's POV from Chapters 16 and 17, where the feast of celebrations for Helaena and Aegon's union is taking place. I did have to split this into two parts as it ran over 10k words lol, so here is Chapter's 16-17 and I will be posting Chapters 18-19 very soon. Anyway, enough of me talking !!! ENJOY! <3

AEMOND POV: Chapters 16 & 17

He sat at the table, lined with his family, whilst awaiting for the other half, eye roaming over the empty seats, that would soon be filled by the Blacks.

And how he anticipated their arrival.

More specifically, yours.

Aegon had been sitting nearby, downing cups of wine and ale faster than he should have, becoming red in the face and drunker by the minute.

Aemond was loyal to his older brother, though this did not mean that he had to particularly like him. Despite some brotherly love he had for the eldest, there was the suffocating disgust, and hatred that boiled into his very core.

His childhood tormentor.

His brother.

A man who cared very little for the crown and its duties, or his duty as a Prince to the realm. A man who whored and drank himself into a stupor, and abused the kindness of their sister.

That was something to Aemond that was unforgivable.

Aemond noted that his mother looked anxious, and although her hands found themselves busy amongst the cups upon the table, or holding themselves in her lap, there was the undeniable fidgeting that was there too.

King Viserys sat at the table silently, his son believing it due to the mans ailment, more than his distaste for his other children. In fact, Viserys was never too interested in Aemond, nor Daeron, but showed love regardless, however, more towards Aegon until he had become more, and more drunk, and a love for Helaena that had never dwindled.

Though as his illness progressed, his ability to be present for his children lessened. In fact, his ability to be present at all had declined until soon, Aemond’s mother and grandfather held the realm for him in his absence.

When would the old bastard die?

By the looks of it, the One-Eyed Prince surmised that his father did not have much longer to live. His skin grew paler by the day, and it was a rare occurrence, that had not been seen, for the man to not be placated by milk of the poppy.

Aemond’s distaste for his father did not come from nowhere.

It was years of neglect, no dragon egg in his crib as was tradition, no interception of the bullying that he endured, and no sympathy for the eye that was lost, that led to the rift of their relationship, if any was there at all.

Aemond remembered that fateful night clearly.

He remembered how instead of his father coming to console his son for the loss of his eye at the age of only ten, instead threatened the young boy with removing his tongue for a truth that was spoken by most people in court, and most importantly, his wife.

And eye for an eye, his mother had said.

He supposed the Gods had come late when they had taken Viserys’ for his place in that evening.

But soon he would pass, and a new nightmare would begin. His brother would take the throne and rule over the Kingdom, and once again, Aemond would have to bend to his brothers will.

And as he waited amongst the sea of sounds, Lords and Ladies of the realm laughing and speaking loudly, music playing amongst the sides of the garden, and quiet chatter at his own table between Otto and Alicent, he impatiently asked the Gods to hurry the day along and deliver you to him.

The Gods answered Aemond’s prayers.

At first he saw the silver hair of his half-sister and uncle, both dressed in black as per usual, and both with their heads held high in an almost dangerously proud fashion.

Behind them, were your two bastard brothers, hair as dark as Ser Harwin Strong’s, and eyes as brown as the bark of the Godswood. Beside them their betrothed, and together, a vision of the evening his eye had been taken from him.

Then there was you.

Trailing along at the back, taking your time, with the same posture as your parents.

Dangerously prideful, boastful even.

He was not sure what he had been expecting, but as you walked through the garden, through the sea of tables and Lords and Ladies of the realm, and as their eyes turned to stare upon your form, he could not help but feel a sense of pride and anger.

Another Dornish dress.

You were teasing him.

It looked to him to be two pieces, and those two pieces were fit to your form perfectly, almost painted on. And how he wished to rip it off of you.

The top was of the finest leather, folded perfectly to your frame, with a high neck and a cut out space were the soft, pillowy flesh of your breasts were visible. A black skirt with red peeking through drew his attention to your legs and hips, swaying with each step as you sauntered up to the table to join them for the celebrations.

Each step you took, each breath you inhaled, caused your breasts to push against the soft leather, only tempting the young Prince further. He wished to run his tongue along the supple skin showing, in front of all the men and women, and the King be damned.

Aemond used all of his restraint to not jump up from the table and pull you away from the crowd, to fuck you roughly against the castle walls, his bed chambers, your bed chambers, in the dragon pit even. He would fuck you in the garden, and in the roots of the Godswood to show them that you were meant to be his, and under their eyes you would be.

But then as the closer you got to him, the more time he had to let his lone eye gaze at the people who were also watching you. And the bitter rage and disgust flooded him faster than the lust did.

Those mens eyes, even married Lord’s, watched you hungrily, and you did not even care for it.

In fact, he was sure that you enjoyed it.

That you lived for the attention that you were getting from the scandalous outfit. From the way the bodice hugged your form and waist, to how your breasts were softly teased to the garden. And what it made it all worse, was that you were not promised to anyone.

And that made you fair game.

As you came to sit by him and Helaena, and the rest of your family and bastard brothers sat and observed him with wary eyes, he found jealousy in having you greet everyone but him.

Even his drunken brother.

“Princess Helaena, you look beautiful. Gold is a wonderful colour on you.” You had complimented his sister, and oh how sweet your voice sounded.

Those lips which could spout such poison, such vitriol and discontent, which could rip and tear at you easily, were so syrupy with his sister.

And he envied it.

He wished that you would acknowledge him, tell him that he looked good that afternoon. That you had noticed that he had spent time and effort on himself, and had noticed that his maids had brushed gentle scented oils into his long hair, braiding half behind his head.

But you didn’t.

Nor did you spare him a glance.

A short snort came from the pursed lips of Aegon, who’s goblet had not seemed to move from his face. Aegon these days, as closer as their father got to death, had become closer to drinking himself into his own cups.

He had watched as you held your tongue and instead smiled at Aegon, and Aemond wished to launch himself across the table and squeeze the life out of his brother for ever having the privilege of having such a smile given to him.

No matter how insincere.

And then the sweet, syrupy tone of your voice was quickly exchanged with the sour bite of your disdain as Aegon continued to push you to fight, push you to react, and the more Aemond watched the interaction, the more concerned he became.

Aemond was not the only man who had noticed you that evening, nor the Lords of the realm. Instead, Aegon had set his sights onto you, and once again, Aemond was left to feel as though his brother would swoop in to take what was his.

“Has anyone told you how delightful you look today?”

Aemond imagined what it would be like to slip a blade into the throat of his brother and yank it swiftly to the side, pulling his flesh from his bones, to watch the thick blood pour from the wound he would create.

Alicent cringed, and Aemond felt all the more incensed.

How many times did his brother have to cause his mother’s distress? How many times did they both have to pick up after him? To constantly watch over him him? A man grown, and older than he?

Aemond almost sighed in relief as you dodged his brothers crude comment, instead directing the positive attention back to Helaena.

How you always doted on her.

You would be such a good mother.

He could not wait to give you his seed.

As the evening wore on, you had pulled your favourite fruit from in front of you. And he watched, as he always did, your delicate hands begin to pull the juicy flesh apart.

The nectar ran down from your fingers, dripping to your wrist slowly, the afternoon light glinting against it. He watched as you placed chunks of the fruit into your mouth and chewed with half shut eyes in delight of the taste, listening to those around you conversing.

Aemond found that he could not pay attention to the low tones of his grandfather and mother, nor the whispers of Daemon and Rhaenyra. He could only focus on you, and the sounds you made as you chewed.

Sounds you were not even aware of.

Tiny contented sighs and moans fell from your plush lips, so quiet that anyone would have to strain to hear it, and Aemond was straining to hear anything that left your pretty mouth.

What would it feel like for him to brush his thumb against the bottom of your lip, sticky with star fruit? Would you suck his thumb into your mouth crudely? Would you kiss at the tip? Or lick at it gently as you looked at him with your violet eyes.

The thought went straight to his cock, and he felt himself hardening inside his breaches.

And then you began to lick at your fingers, soft, pink tongue coming out to chase the nectar as it dripped from the fruit and made a mess of you, and it took everything within him to not kiss you then and there.

Would you lick his cum from your fingers like that? After to bringing him to release with your hand or mouth? Or perhaps you had scooped his seed from within you, drawing it up to your lips to taste your combined essence?

He knew you would be insatiable.

Or perhaps you would lick at the juices from your own cunt? Tongue wet with your own slick that you would drag from your fluttering hole, up to your waiting lips.

Would he fuck you with his hand, feeling you tighten around his digits and your release coat his palm? Would he bring those fingers up to your mouth to clean? And would you lick them so diligently like the dutiful wife he would make you?

Aemond wished to feel your tongue sliding up his shaft before licking and sucking at the tip of his cock. He wanted to see your hands and mouth coated with his seed, not the nectar of the star fruit.

But then Daemon had cleared his throat, and you had turned to witness Aemond staring at you, devouring the star fruit, and you had become oh so meek, so demure, so pure, and discontinued your ravaging of the Dornish delicacy. Aemond cursed his uncle in his head, and made a note that he was being watched.

You still had not acknowledged him.

Still had not greeted his presence despite being so close. Still had not met him with your usual snark, or attitude, or disgust filled eyes. It was as if he did not exist.

And he hated it.

You had even made conversation with his own grandfather, Otto, who you had made very clear, from your return, of your disdain for. But even still, you met his questions with answers and returned them in kind.

It incensed him.

Why were you ignoring him?

“You look lovely, Princess Y/n.” As the words left his mouth, the young man thought to himself, let the games begin.

You had straightened your back and taken a deep breath in, before you had finally met his own eye. Violet met violet, and suddenly you were facing each other, and he fell straight into your eyes.

A dangerous trap they were, and oh so tempting for any mortal man.

“Thank you, Prince Aemond. You are far too kind.”

The syrup was back.

Was it strengthened by the nectar of the fruit you had made love to?

“I don’t believe I’ve seen such a dress before, at least not in this court.”

Aemond fought to not lean forward to get a closer look, and instead, pushed himself back into his chair to restrain himself.

“It was made specially for an occasion such as this, a tailor in Dorne creates the most wonderful pieces.”

Such a boastful little thing.

So much pride.

“Hmm. Dorne does have many exotic things….”

To his disappointment, at the topic of Dorne you had turned excitedly to talk to Helaena about the exotic fruits and spices there. Animatedly telling short tales, and making promises to your aunt that you would go together.

He felt himself relax as he watched Helaena smile, a rare occurrence these days, and Aemond felt gladdened for it, but then Aegon snickered loudly, and wrapped his rough hand around Helaena, and Aemond watched the sickly sweet air around you turn sour, in a blink of an eye.

“Our niece does know how to talk, doesn’t she?” Aegon breathed into Helaena's face, and Aemond wished to hit the man in the mouth, lest it ever be opened again.

He did not know how his mother allowed for him to treat her in such a manner. He did not know how he could abuse her, and use her, and treat her worse than a commoner.

Than a whore.

How Helaena had sought comfort from Aemond many times after Aegon’s drunken attacks. How Helaena would sob in his arms at first, but eventually as time turned, and the abuse did not stop, she turned silent, and instead of sobs, there would be blinks and small words exchanged, until nothing at all.

Not quite present, not quite absent.

She was simply there.

“And you know how to drink brother.”

Aemond’s eye never left Helaena’s shoulder where Aegon’s hand dug roughly into her flesh.

His gaze was a warning, and Aegon heeded it.

Aegon's grip left your aunt, and reached out in show to grab at his goblet, before lifting it to his lips, challenging his brother as he emptied the cup, before thrusting it behind him for a server to come fill it up once more.

“And you know how to ruin the fun.” Aegon sulked.

The afternoon carried on and he watched as Helaena snatched you up from the table, declaring the both of you would dance, before she dragged you down into the sea of people, celebrating a disastrous marriage.

Even with one eye, even from afar, amongst a sea of dancing and moving people, he could spot you from a mile away. It was not the silver head of hair that gave you away, it was you. The way you smiled, lips pulling apart as your teeth showed to the room, the way your eyes would light up as you grinned and laughed.

It was the way your skin looked so soft, softer than all present. Like you had been made of silk and velvet, but carved from marble and stone. How he wished to touch you, all of you, to feel the soft skin of your flesh against him, to press you harder against him.

To press himself harder into you, rutting against you viciously, feeling the tip of his cock meet the end of your cunt, as you curled beneath him.

All those around you looked dull, and common in comparison.

Plain featured women and men who dared to sometimes grasp his own attention, as if their commonly features would lure him into an allyship, friendship or the warm bed of another.

A bed that was not yours.

Watching both you and Helaena smile was addictive. To see you so carefree, so relaxed and happy in his sisters presence, made him wish to be the one to bring you such happiness. Such elation.

And it soured him to know that he would never be able to, despite his efforts.

The stale yellow hair of Jason Lannister flitted into his view, a man who had no doubt, also been bewitched by the Princess. And Aemond watched in anger as the man was drawn to you like a moth to flame, his feet carrying him hurriedly, yet not too hurriedly under the watchful eyes of his wife, as he made his way to you.

When Jason interrupted you and Helaena, Aemond noted that you too looked disgusted and put off by the mans presence, and as the Lannister leant his face towards you, Aemond shot up from his seat, ignoring the sudden watchful gaze of all at the table, most importantly his own mother, who watched him knowingly as he stalked down to where you where.

The bodies parted for Aemond, like a ship parts the rough waves of the sea, and all he could do was set his sight on you, as you desperately glanced at Helaena for an out.

And Aemond would give you one.

“A union of House Targaryen and House Lannister would be a formidable force.” The slimy Lion suggested, and Aemond took a sharp breath through his nose to prevent himself from declaring treason that this man would even dare to think that he was worthy of you, to even be in your presence, let alone warm your bed.

“I'm sure it would be.” You had spoke bluntly, disgusted by the proposal, and Aemond felt pride, “I think I remember my mother telling me of your offer to her when she was-“

He stood behind you now, and watched as you moved to turn away, lips open to land the last verbal blow at the man before you, but all halted as you collided with him. The young prince felt the softness of your skin, and smelt the sweet oils in your hair as you lifted your gaze to look into his eye.

Your face was either flushed from dancing, or flushed from being so close to him. He could not decide.

But the wild look in your eye, and the way that your lips snapped shut, and your chest rose and fell more rapidly, as though readying yourself for him, gave him all the confirmation he needed.

Aemond lifted his hand and held it out to you, wishing you would put your small little hand in his so he could dwarf it in size, so that he could hold you and squeeze you, and feel you for once in a way that was not sacrilegious.

Aemond did not bother to take his eye from you, nor did he bother to turn to acknowledge the distasteful man beside him, whose gaze felt warm on the side of Aemond’s face.

Pestilent cunt.

“Apologies for the interruption My Lord, but my niece had promised me a dance.”

Aemond delighted in how your face screwed up, in confusion, in anger, in defiance. And as your lips parted to deny him of what he sought out, you were interrupted by the grating voice of the man beside you both.

The pissant Lord of Casterly Rock bowed down to him as a good dog would, and conceded to the Princes uncourtly interruption.

For a man with so much pride, such arrogance, and little intelligence but the knowledge that money held power, and the Lannisters had plenty, the man simply walked away, submissively back to the arms of his wife, and sulked.

It made Aemond feel powerful, and his cock jumped at-

“I don’t recall promising you a dance, uncle.” You spoke lowly, hoping for the music and voices of others around you to drown out your sour tone. But it didn’t, and Aemond had heard you, and Helaena had disappeared back towards the table, noting his presence with their niece.

She knew.

Words were exchanged, and he had purred in your ear and felt your body shiver, and watches as your eyes dilated, and lips wet themselves with your tongue.

He had called you ravishing, and you had accepted it. And it was the truth, you were ravishing. You were what all gazed upon that evening, and all that people whispered about.

The Realm’s Delight had birthed the Realm’s Pleasure.

Pride and jealousy chased themselves in circles around Aemond, as he caught people watch the both of you dance. And how well you had danced, so graceful, so soft and so flowing, like a body of water.

So perfect for him.

“I expected you to be in green for such an event.” You had snipped, and he had not bothered to give you a response.

It would not have been dignified.

He had thought about making a comment about your dress, about the tartiness of it all. Of how you showed far more skin than anyone else in the court, despite being above all else. But he held his tongue in his mouth as it began to feel bitter and sharp.

It would do well to not stir you. He had made a promise to his mother to behave.

Both he and Aegon had.

‘Let them show their depravity to all. Let them be the ones to land the first blow against themselves. Do not give in to their beastly ways.’

But how was he to resist?

He was a man, and there was your fire.

It made him want to hit you and kiss you all at once.

And as you slowed to a stop, you had looked up at him and given him a small smile, which he had prayed for all evening to see. A smile in which he had wished for all day, and craved like a man starved.

For in the Red Keep, Aemond was alone in a desert, walking amongst the sandy hills, heat beating down upon him, and then you had smiled. And it was as if he had tasted the cool, wet of water on his tongue for the first time in years.

Like that smile, such a small one at that, where your lips pulled gently to the side and your cheeks rose, gave him all that was needed to sustain him for life.

“Thank you for the dance, uncle.”

And he knew then, that he would need it again, and again, and again, lest he succumb to the dry desert wasteland and die.

Aemond watched you courtesy and race away back to the table, where he trailed slowly, watching your hips sway through the crowd of people, who also looked on.

They should have their eyes plucked from their skulls.

He committed their faces to his memory for this purpose alone.

The young Prince watched you excuse yourself to the garden. And he thought that if he sat at the table, he could resist the urge to chase after you. He had sat back down, his mothers eyes watching him curiously, and the heat of Daemon’s gaze violating his person.

And he had done such a good job of sitting, he had even pulled his goblet to his lips to sip, before his urges won over, and he stood from the table, excusing himself, to look for you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut

Bold is who I cannot tag!

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sitp-recs · 10 months

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hi liv hope you’re well!!! i was wondering if you had a reclist for like wound healing / physical h/c ?? i looked through your masterlists and maybe i just couldn’t see it but ohhh i would love it if you have any recs for me :))) thank you so much have a lovely day xx

Hi anon! Ahh yes some good old whump 👨‍🍳 💋 it’s crazy to think I haven’t done a list for it yet bc this used to be my favourite Starker trope! My memory is not great (especially with long fics) but I think these might work. Oh and if you enjoy Dronarry I highly recommend Let Be, Let Be by @tackytigerfic :)

Operative by @shealwaysreads (M, 3.4k)

After the war, Draco finds himself in the familiar position of not getting what he wanted. But sometimes, what you need finds its own way to you.

A Noir Cliche by @shiftylinguini (T, 4k)

Draco is not a Healer. Harry doesn’t get hurt on purpose. They really have to stop meeting like this.

Case File #742 by @nametheshadows (M, 6k)

When Draco is thrown into the cell, he’s furious. When Potter gets thrown in behind him, he’s pissed.

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime (M, 23k)

Draco’s world gains a new component just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)

Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 (E, 91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

From Ashes by Caedes12 (E, 150k)

When Draco comes back for eighth year, he starts an unexpected friendship with Hermione Granger. Between his new friendship and his parents kicking him out of the house, Draco's life starts down a new path.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (T, 159k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him. After all, Harry Potter has saved his life before. Now Draco has to believe that Potter will be able to do it one more time.

Bonus: art!

Sometimes it’s Now or Never by @bluebutter-art (T)

The aftermath of a messy Auror raid finds one Harry Potter at the doorstep of Draco Malfoy’s home. Who knew that a brush with death is exactly the push he needs to finally tell Draco how he really feels?

#asks #anon #drarry whump #physical h/c

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 3 months

Text

Frat!Luke Masterlist

almost is never enough (ao3) - fannyann luke/calum, calum/liam, liam/harry M, 32k

Summary: “I think I’ve always known that a little. I mean, if I paid attention, at least.”

Liam laughs, eyes crinkling up and Calum’s surprised at how easy this is.“That obvious?”

“A little. Love’s funny that way. Think it’s only obvious when you want it to be.”

or; A Frat AU where Calum and Liam are in love with other people but can't quite see what's right in front of their eyes.

(Baby Pull Me) Closer (ao3) - mukedayparade michael/luke N/R, 4k

Summary: He was stunned for a moment by the sheer beauty of the boy standing beside him. With fire engine red hair and skin the color of porcelain, the boy was the most beautiful thing Luke had ever set eyes on. The blond let his eyes trace over the mystery boy’s features, from his light green eyes to his bright pink lips—lips that were now forming words that Luke had not heard.

or,

luke is finally done with finals, so he decides to celebrate like everyone else: by going to a frat party. that's where he meets michael, the porcelain god with bright red hair who he just has to have.

Condom (wattpad) - lukesmoann luke/calum 23 parts (ongoing)

Summary: for some people, you can drown out the world with smoke and music.

for Luke, sex had to be added to the mix.

but little did he know, Calum would need to be added too.

Frat Boy (wattpad) - hemmingsirwie luke/ashton 10 parts (ongoing)

Summary: When Ashton sleeps with a cute frat boy at a party, he doesn't expect to be partnered with his one night stand for a science project. Nor, did he expect the bumps along the way. fratboy!luke ∥ normal!ashton

Its Not So Easy To Just Say Fuck It (ao3) - bitchnluke luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Ashtons whole life is about surfing, but this one blonde boy gets in the way of that. He also happens to be a fratboy that claims hes straight, but his actions prove otherwise.

President Material (ao3) - clamu_hnod luke/ashton, michael/calum N/R, 2k (WIP)

Summary: He was the epitome of everything he was supposed to be.

Blond hair, blue eyes, winning smile, even complexion. He was Clean cut, clean shaven, and friendly as all be out. Not to mention he was a legacy. A fourth generation legacy, to be exact, just like his brother’s before him. Not only had his great-grandfather, grandfather, and father been in the same fraternity he was now initiated into, but they had also received the prestigious title of president after three years of dedication to their fraternal brothers. Luke’s older siblings, Jack and Ben, had failed to attain the honor, so all hope rested on his shoulders.

But no pressure.

sweet and salty (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 9k

Summary: “We could get a bunch of stuff to try? See what’s good before we commit to buying anything in bulk?”

“That’s actually not bad,” Luke admits. “Go to the store, grab some things that catch our eye, try them out…” A fantastic idea is formulating in his head. An excuse to spend even more time with Calum.

“We could make a night of it? Like have a full-on sleepover? Really surround ourselves in the sorority girl vibe.” He chuckles to ensure Calum is aware this is very much a joke. But also a very serious suggestion. But also definitely a joke.

the tutor (wattpad) - ash-irwie luke/ashton 5 parts

Summary: frat boy luke who everyone knows as the popular douchebag that hangs with the wrong crowd and gets judged too easily for someone who he really isn't

or the one where ashton has to tutor luke because of luke's nagging mother and his horrible effort and grades.

What It Takes (ao3) - mukeclemmings luke/calum M, 8k (WIP)

Summary: "Wait, wait, wait. You don't like sex? How can you not like sex?"

And, it's not that Calum doesn't like sex, Calum is very sure that he would like sex in the right situation. It's just, Calum doesn't like intimacy with just anyone, and he definitely doesn't like intimacy with the douchebag fratboy that broke his best friend's heart.

Or, so he thought.

yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen (ao3) - clemmiings michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: 5 times luke and michael get drunk together and the 1 time they're sober

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings #frat!luke #frat!luke masterlist #au

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ear-worthy · 1 year

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Spectacular Failures: A Podcast That Declared Victory About Defeat

In June 2019, a business podcast was released by APM Studios that defied convention.

Why? Because business podcasts that celebrate success are as numerous as the pixels on a 4K television. Inspirational stories about Jobs, Gates, other quasi-demented tech startup wizards appear like pop-up ads on podcasts earnestly attempting to revel in the success of others.

The message is clear to aspiring entrepreneurs” “You can be like them.”

On June 17, 2019, this new podcast appeared on the business landscape.

It was different, maybe even blasphemous.

The new podcast focused on failure.

And not just run-of-the-mill failures like Gymboree, Things Remembered or Payless.

These were colossal failures. The defeats that people talked about for years. The failures in which even casual observers said, “What were they thinking?”

That new business podcast, was, of course, the Spectacular Failures podcast.

In its words, here’s how the podcast self-described: “Host Lauren Ober tackles some of the most spectacular business failures of all time, and what could have been done to avoid them. Some of these stories are shocking. Some are funny. Some are just downright sad. But each one will give you a totally new perspective on big business… and big failure. “

“Business successes can certainly teach budding entrepreneurs what to do,” begins business expert Clay Burton. “And business failures can also teach aspirants what not to do.”

Origin story

The podcast was sponsored by the prestigious Carlson School of Management at the University of Minnesota and is produced by American Public Media (APM).

At the time, APM produced a host of well-known programs and podcasts including BBC America, Marketplace program and podcasts such as Decomposed (about classical music and its impact on society), The Splendid Table about food culture, The Uncertain Hour about origin stories and a growing roster of other well-crafted podcasts.

In June 2019, Spectacular Failures broadcast its first episode about the failed amusement park of former tel-evangelists Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker. Heritage USA was built by the Bakkers’ PTL Club in York County, South Carolina. The concept was a Christian-themed amusement park with the King’s Castle as its centerpiece. Opened in 1978, the park attracted more than six million visitors a year at its peak and employed about 13,000 people. By 1986, a high-profile sex scandal, tax violations, financial malfeasance and wild overspending had driven out the Bakkers and tel-evangelist Jerry Falwell took over the park. By late 1989, the park was closed due to bankruptcy and remained in ruins until 2013 when it was purchased by real estate developers.

“There are plenty of business failures in our economy every year,” begins business expert Clay Burton, “but I think Spectacular Failures does an excellent job finding those failures that relate a morality tale of how these business failures violated key basic rules of business success such as customer focus, a willingness to adapt to changing market conditions and prioritizing quality over profit.”

Burton points to the episode about Schlitz Beer and how its drive to put cost-cutting and profits ahead of delivering a quality product ultimately alienated loyal drinkers.

The next episode about MoviePass and its clumsy and often-comical attempt to upend the purchase process in the movie theater industry led to angry customers, massive losses and a founder with a propensity for self-denial. Interestingly, however, out of the ashes of MoviePass and its subscription-type model for movie attendance, large movie theater chains like AMC (AMC Monthly Pass) and Regal (Regal Unlimited) have developed and marketed their own subscription model with sustainable pricing and simpler terms of service.

Style and substance

Spectacular Failures didn’t just abandon the familiar playbook for business podcasts — earnest, sober and pedantic — it unearthed a quirky tone that seamlessly switches between being hilarious and whimsical. And that playful mood emanated from host Lauren Ober, who easily navigates the serious with the silly. Ober’s resume includes hosting and producing WAMU & NPR’s The Big Listen. Before hosting, Lauren was an award-winning public radio reporter, producing stories for outlets like NPR, 99% Invisible and Criminal. Ober once won a regional Emmy and is a graduate of the Transom Story Workshop, Syracuse University and American University.

In the episode about the largest funeral home consolidator you’ve never heard of called the Loewen Group, Ober detailed how the hubris of Ray Loewen ultimately upset the industry and its customers, culminating in the group’s loss in court against a Mississippi funeral home owner who won a $500 million lawsuit. In the episode, Ober highlighted her grandmother on her father’s side who was so comfortable with the concept of death that she was considered “a professional funeral goer.” Ober’s Dad was interviewed and describes the unique wish of the grandmother to be laid out at the viewing in a particular nightgown. Ober then knitted her grandmother to the bankruptcy of the Loewen Group by describing how “Grandma Ober” had paid for entire funeral expense in advance and how people felt a community closeness to the local funeral home and not to some corporate giant trying to slash services to make its “roll-up” strategy successful.

A Kodak Moment

One of the most fascinating episodes from a business strategy perspective had to be the long and painful decline of one of America’s iconic companies — Kodak. Host Ober and her team gave us the long-time employee perspective of how the company splashed around in the shark-infested waters of technological change before finally drowning in denial, missteps and missed opportunities.

The Kodak episode brings up the essential question for any dominant business. Do you stick with your profitable product or service despite the fact it is being supplanted by innovation, or do you move away from your historical cash machine and step into the uncertain domain of new markets replete with uncertainty, lower profitability and questionable customer acceptance?

Spectacular Failures deftly presented listeners with the ultimate business irony. While Kodak’s film business was shrinking, the company did pioneer new digital photography innovations. Despite its technological progress, the company could never abandon the security blanket of film’s profitability and largely ceded the digital market to competitors that eventually resulted in Kodak’s demise.

Three of a kind trumps two pair

The last episode of season one was undoubtedly its most difficult.

The episode was about Donald Trump’s multiple failures in the Atlantic City casino market. In such a polarized political environment, Spectacular Failures and Ober deftly thread the needle by focusing on Trump’s cascading gaffes in Atlantic City, ranging from the construction of the decadently ornate Taj Mahal casino and Trump’s cannibalization of his business by owning four casinos in the same market.

The podcast detailed the intercession of Trump parent Fred in an illegal bailout of his son that was ultimately caught and fined by the state’s Casino Gaming Commission. As Trump endured multiple bankruptcies, the podcast rightly notes that Trump himself had very little at stake financially and the real losers were banks, investors, vendors and consumers.

Season two and beyond

After the success of season one, Spectacular Failures produced a season two that was released in August 2020 and ended in October. Episodes of note included fast-fashion retailer, Forever 21, Countrywide Financial, and Pan Am. The podcast was hitting its stride.

Then Spectacular Failures disappeared. But the show’s episodes are worth your ear time, despite the podcast no longer actively producing episodes.

Listen to Spectacular Failures, seasons one and two, here.

#podcast #business

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mcbastardsmausoleum · 1 year

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On February 7, 2023, Scream Factory will bring the cult favorite Bubba Ho-Tep to 4K Ultra HD for the first time as a collector’s edition 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray release loaded with extras!

“A significant piece of American cinema” Nick Digilio - WGN Chicago

“Bruce Campbell…in a performance for the ages” The Hollywood Reporter

Bubba Ho-Tep

The Shady Rest retirement home is about to get all shook up with a new resident: a broken-down and eccentric old geezer claiming to be the King of Rock’N’Roll himself! On February 7, 2023, Scream Factory will bring this cult favorite to 4K UHD for the first time as a collector’s edition 4K UHD+Blu-ray release loaded with extras.

Written and directed by Don Coscarelli and based on the Bram Stoker Award-nominated short story by author Joe R. Lansdale, Bubba Ho-Tep stars cult icon Bruce Campbell (Army of Darkness, Ash vs. Evil Dead) as “Elvis”, the late, great Ossie Davis (Grumpy Old Men, Do The Right Thing) as John “Jack” Kennedy, Ella Joyce (Set It Off, Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot), Heidi Marnhout (Phantasm IV: Oblivion) and Bob Ivy (John Dies At the End, Near Dark). When mysterious deaths plague a Texas retirement home, it's up to its most sequined senior citizen to take on a 4,000-year-old Egyptian mummy with a penchant for cowboy boots, bathroom graffiti and sucking the souls from the barely living.

This collector’s edition features a bevy of bonus features, including a new 4K scan of the film, previously unreleased featurettes from the director’s archives, and much more! Fans can pre-order their copies now by visiting ShoutFactory.com

Special Features:

4K UHD:

- NEW 4K scan from the original camera negative

- Audio Commentary with writer/director Don Coscarelli and actor Bruce Campbell

- Audio Commentary with author Joe R. Lansdale

- Audio Commentary with “The King”

AUDIO:

- DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0

BLU-RAY

- NEW 4K scan from the original camera negative

- Previously unreleased featurette: Bubba Ho-Tep Filming Locations Then and Now

- Previously unreleased featurette: Bubba Ho-Tep Egyptian Theatre Premiere

- Previously unreleased featurette: Bubba Ho-Tep at the Toronto Film Festival

- Audio Commentary with director Don Coscarelli and actor Bruce Campbell

- Audio Commentary with author Joe R. Lansdale

- Audio Commentary with “The King”

- The King Lives – an interview with Bruce Campbell

- All is Well – an interview with Don Coscarelli

- Mummies and Makeup – an interview with makeup effects artist Robert Kurtzman

- The Making of BUBBA HO-TEP

- To Make A Mummy – Makeup and Effects

- Fit for A King – Elvis Costuming

- Rock Like An Egyptian – How celebrated composer Brian Tyler created the stunning score

- Bubba Ho-tep – the music video

- Joe R. Lansdale reads Bubba Ho-Tep

- Deleted scenes with optional audio commentary with Don Coscarelli and Bruce Campbell

- Footage from the Temple Room Floor

- Archival Bruce Campbell interviews

- Music Video

- Theatrical Trailer

- TV Spot

- Photo Gallery

AUDIO:

- DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0

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raccoonscity · 2 months

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Make Me Choose: Chris/Jill or Ada/Leon or Rebecca/Billy? (asked by @hereticstations)

#hereticstations #reviledit #residenteviledit #gamingedit #resident evil #chris redfield #jill valentine #valenfield #chris x jill #*gif #mine #*mmc #ash's 4k celebration #video games #flashing gifs tw

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nctsplug02 · 2 years

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YALL WE HIT 4K LITERASLY RHANK YOU??!!!? IM CELEBRATING EITH MY BESTIE BOO 😏😏

and my sneaky link

BUT THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH FOR ENJOYING MY CONTENT! i enjoy writing for you guys. i love that you guys are moving with me along the way of my progress. this is really big to me and i’m just super excited and happy to know i have people with me who are walking and supporting me along the way of my writing blog/career?? no, i don’t think it’s a career. but thank you, omg. i could’ve never asked for anything more than your guys support!

even sneaky link is happy for me— bestie is too!

again, thank you all so so much! :( <3

#ash talks #ash is thankful #we hit 4K!#4K!#yay!#thank you all so much #kisses #4k celebration

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talkfastromance4 · 2 years

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be my valentine? // ashton irwin oneshot

A little different and I'm a little rusty so I'm kind of mehh about it, but I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day to all you lovelies♥️💕

Word count: 4k

Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

It’s not that she hates Valentine’s Day per se, it's just not at the top of her list of celebrated holidays. You don’t even get the day off of work, so it’s only another day with an added plethora of lovey-dovey couples splattered across social media paired with flowers and chocolates that she’s never had the pleasure of receieving. It’s also another holiday where other couples get engaged in flamboyant ways with an overabundance of rose petals and bubbline champagne.

No, she doesn’t hate Valentine’s Day, she’s not particularly fond of it. There’s a difference.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Ashton asks her while they’re chilling in his living room. A movie they’ve both seen a dozen times plays silently on his tv while he’s been playing his guitar softly.

“Next weekend, next weekend…” She opens the calendar on her phone then scoffs with a roll of her eyes when she realizes the date. “It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, Ash, you know what I’m doing. I’ll be doing nothing with a big bottle of wine and a whole box of chocolates as my partner.”

“What if you changed it up this year?” his strumming stops and she glances up at him.

“Like what?”

“What if we did something?”

“We who?”

“You and me ‘we’, that’s who,” he grins and sets his guitar on the floor. He takes a sip of his coffee then smirks at her above the rim.

“What would we do on Valentine’s Day weekend? We aren’t a couple.”

She hopes he doesn’t hear the underlying disappointment in that fact. Ever since she met him she’s had a huge crush on him. They’re practically joined at the hip and their friends always joke about them being like an old married couple even though they’re not together.

“We could pretend. I’ve got an idea and it’d be much easier to do with you as my accomplice than doing it by myself.”

“An accomplice? Are you planning to rob a bank?” she snickers.

“No, just…a weekend away at this resort I found,” he shrugs, “for single people.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“You’re acting weird, what’s really going on?”

“I swear you’ll love it. So what do you say? Will you be my Valentine?” he smiles his perfectly dimpled Ashton smile and there’s no way she can refuse.

“All right, I’ll go with you. This better not be some nudist resort, I’m not about that life.”

***

Thursday morning rolls around and they’re seated on their flight by 6:30. She was shocked when he told her the time and that they’d be flying; he still hasn’t told her where exactly they’re going and that he called her work to make sure she was off from Thursday February 10th to Saturday the 19th. She even needed her passport and this would be the first time she’s using it. She was supposed to go to Europe but then the pandemic happened and it became too much of a headache rescheduling so she chose for a refund instead.

“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to flight 617. We’re starting out with clear skies and should be arriving at our destination in about 19 hours and 20 minutes. Please remain seated until we remove the seatbelt sign. Thank you.”

y/n stares at Ashton with wide eyes.

“Nineteen hours?! Where the hell are we going, Ashton?”

“It’s a surprise,” he smiles then pulls out the food menu. “What would you like for breakfast?”

***

y/n’s never eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a plane before but flying first class definitely had it’s perks. She badgered Ashton for how much she owes for her share and he refused her payment claiming he “won the tickets and whole package.”

Being on a flight and traveling through different time zones is already taking it’s toll on her so when she wakes up in the middle of the night wide awake, she uses the bathroom. Her hair is messy and she has sleep lines on her cheeks as she stares in the small mirror.

When she returns to her seat, Ashton is also awake staring at her over the space between their seats.

“Morning sunshine,” he greets in a low voice. “Want to watch a movie with me?”

“What are you watching?”

“I really don’t know, something with a talking dog.”

She peers over the divider to look at his screen and sees the familiar face of Freddie Prinze Jr. and the CGI version of Scooby-Doo.

“Ash, this is Scooby-Doo,” she giggles.

“I know,” he grins. “Want to watch?” He lifts up his blanket and scoots over to give her room.

She smiles and climbs over the divider settling in next to him and accepts his other earbud to listen to the movie. It’s the first Scooby-Doo and the gang has just arrived on Spooky Island.

“Are we going to Spooky Island?” she asks, nestling in closer to him. He smells like home and it’s comforting in the stale airplane.

“I wish, but where we’re going is slightly better. So, how are you feeling about the upcoming holiday?”

“Just another day but slightly different since I’ll be in some other city or country,” she shrugs. “I’m not some bitter person who hates Valentine's Day because I’m single. I love seeing other people happy and celebrating their love, it’s just a bigger reminder that I don’t have someone to share my love with.”

“I get it. You should celebrate love everyday, not just on a Hallmark Holiday.”

“I feel like I’m in a Hallmark movie,” she smiles. “My best friend is stealing me away to some secret vacation.”

“I promise I won’t be as corny as those movies.”

“Good, I don’t want to cancel you.”

***

The next time they wake up is after they’ve landed and they received smirks and smiles from the flight attendants since they were sharing the same seat. It made her blush because she knew what it insinuated but Ashton brushed it off.

“Welcome to the Maldives,” one of the attendants smiled at her as she stepped in front of the door.

“Woah,” she squints in the bright hot sun and the view of the airplane field instead of the tunnel she’s used to. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Definitely not, go on. We have to get our luggage and take another quick flight,” Ashton nudges her down the stairs. It takes her a bit longer because her legs are a little shaky.

“What do you mean another quick flight?”

Ashton responds with a smile and leads her towards the baggage claim that is also outside. She feels like she’s in a dream.

They take a car to another location that’s about ten minutes away and she sees a plane floating in the bluest water she’s ever seen. Others are waiting along the pier with their own luggage and y/n’s wondering where the heck they’ve landed and are going to.

She’s more awake and alert as the plane takes off once they’re settled, she’s never been on a plane that lands on water before. She’s taking photos of the waters and the clear blue skies until they’re landing on another island with bungalows suspended in the water.

“Okay, now I feel like we’re on Jurassic Island.”

“What’s with all the movie references?” he laughs as they wait to be released from the plane.

“Life imitates art.”

Someone helps move their luggage down the long boardwalk towards the bungalow village. She’s breathing in the sea air as much as she can, it’s so refreshing and tropical. She really feels like she’s in a dream.

“Enjoy your stay,” the staff member says with a slight bow opening the door to their bungalow.

Ashton gives him a tip and y/n enters the space with her mouth open. There’s flowers on the bed and towels twisted into swans with a little card in the front. She lifts the card up to read the greetings from the resort along with a QR code to look at their itinerary.

Itinerary? What has Ashton planned? This seems like a very ostentatious trip that he ‘won’ and he’d bring her along for the ride.

“Pretty great, huh?” he asks, setting the last of their luggage near the dresser.

“It’s…something incredible, Ashton,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you sure you won this trip?”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re just here for a nice vacation.”

“Okay…”

He claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “Are you hungry? Tired? What do you want to do first?”

She gazes out the sliding doors to see their own small pool and hot tub and then the ocean beyond stretching far into the horizon.

“Let’s go in the ocean.”

She changes into her suit after searching for it in her suitcase while he changes in the main room. When she exits, she eyes the bed noting it’s the only one in the room. They’ve slept in the same bed before but something about this place and the circumstances carries a bit more weight.

“Ash?” she asks when he’s not in the room. The warm air breezes in through the windows and she hears a splash. “You couldn’t wait for me?”

Ashton is doing backstrokes in the water, the sun shining on his skin and the water rippling over his body.

“It was calling to me, I couldn’t resist. Care to join me or are you gonna watch me all day?” His dimples are even more prominent in the bright sunshine.

She’s quick to race down the steps and right into the water, it’s like stepping into a warm bath but it’s still refreshing. She sighs at the feeling and ducks her head under the water. She wants to absorb as much of this as she can so she can carry this magical place back home with her.

“What do you think?” Ashton asks when she surfaces.

“It’s perfect.”

Around lunchtime just as they climbed out of the ocean, there was a knock on the door. Ashton wrapped a towel around his neck to answer it while y/n dried off her skin, she hears Ashton talking quietly to whoever was at the door.

“Lunch is served,” he announces with a tray full of the most delicious food she’s ever seen in her life.

“Woah.”

While they ate their lunch, she looked through their itinerary on her phone and noticed an ongoing theme with the activities.

“What’s up?”

“Did you look at this itinerary?”

“Not yet. Why? Is there something you don’t want to do?” he butters a piece of bread.

“No, it all looks great; snorkeling, a whale watching tour, dinner in an underwater restaurant…but…they’re all labeled as ‘a lover’s dive beneath the sea’ and ‘romantic dinner for two among the fish.’”

“Well, it is Valentine’s Day so it’s probably listed that way for the holiday.”

“Were you serious when you said you wanted to pretend to be a couple? This is like…honeymoon stuff.” she stares at him as he chews his bread slowly. Then he takes a long drink from his iced tea that has a pink umbrella and a slice of an orange on the rim of the glass.

“We’ll just go with it, would it be that terrible to pretend to be my girlfriend?”

“No, no that’s not what I meant–”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll have the best Valentine’s Day week and weekend of our lives,” he lifts his glass in cheers.

Maybe it’s because of the magic of this place or the way his eyes shine with a little more green in them or his dimpled smile, but she lifts her glass and knocks it against his.

Maybe it’s because she’s a little in love with him.

What’s the harm in pretending?

***

After dinner the night before, they immediately fell asleep on top of the covers with the sea breeze and ocean waves tempting them into an even deeper sleep. When she awoke, she was pressed against his chest on her stomach and his arm was draped casually along her back.

There was a knock on the door and Ashton removed himself from bed to answer it. She’s still waking up and the words exchanged don’t reach her ears properly, she’s too distracted by the picture perfect view out the window and the ghostly feeling of Ashton’s arm on her back.

“Breakfast is served, sunshine,” Ashton touches her shoulder gently.

She rolls around to see his eyes are still sleepy and there’s a pinkness to his nose and cheeks from the sun the other day.

“Morning,” she grumbles and clears her throat.

“Morning,” he smiles. “Come on, there’s tons of fruit and coffee.”

They enjoy their breakfast on the table on their patio, both of them taking photos of the arrangement of food. Ashton takes multiple photos of her even though she protests against it.

“Anything we’re doing on the itinerary today?” he asks, stabbing his fork in a piece of french toast.

“No. We don’t go snorkeling until tomorrow and then we have dinner underwater on Sunday. So we can stay in the water all day again.”

“Excellent. When do we go whale watching?”

“Monday.”

“Hmm, Valentine’s Day,” he smiles.

“We also have a candlelit dinner on the beach Monday with complimentary desserts,” she wiggles in her chair excitedly. Ashton chuckles at her adorableness.

After breakfast they brush their teeth and change into their suits again and jump right into the ocean. The resort sent in some goggles per Ashton’s request so they could look at the sea life beneath them. They only saw a couple of fish but other than that it was sand with a few patches of seaweed.

They ate lunch again when room service dropped it off and Ashton looked over at her in concern when she was holding her head in her hands.

“What’s the matter?”

“Headache,” she grumbles.

“Drink some more water. Maybe we should stay inside the rest of the day and recover, we’ve been in the sun for about four hours.”

“But I want to stay in the ocean,” she pouts.

“We’re here for another week, babe, don’t worry we’ll have plenty of time to swim in it.”

He gives her some ibuprofen he found in her toiletry bag and some more water. He suggests watching a movie and she chooses Moana. They settle on the bed as the opening credits roll on screen and it’s barely ten minutes in when he notices she’s already asleep. He smiles and rubs his fingers at her temples hoping to help relieve the pain from her headache.

She slept until dinnertime but she was still acting lethargic and it wasn’t until she stepped out of the bathroom after taking a shower that he realized why. She was sunburned.

“We didn’t put sunscreen on,” he tells her. “You’re red as a cherry.”

She looks down at her skin and sees the outline of her suit. She frowns.

“No wonder the water hurt me in the shower,” she sighs. “Can you see if the resort has any aloe?”

“Already got it,” he lifts it up in his hand then waves her forward. “C’mere, I’ll put some on your back.

“Here, squeeze some on my hand so I can do my front,” she holds out her hand and the cool gel plops on her palm. As soon as it touches her collarbone and neck she feels relief. She puts the excess down her arms and on her nose and cheeks.

Ashton pats the bed next to him and she lays down as gently as she can.

“We should stay in until we have to go snorkeling.”

“Yeah, my body is really starting to hurt now.”

She lets out a long sigh when he squirts the aloe across her shoulders and back. He smiles at her reaction and rubs it in gently.

“Aren’t you sunburnt?” she asks.

“Not really, just my shoulders. Can I lift your shirt to see if your lower back is red?”

“Go ahead.”

He lifts her camisole gently and rubs some aloe on her skin. His fingers curve around her waist to let the gel soak into her skin, it’s absorbing it very quickly.

“Can you do my legs too? They feel a little tight.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He slips off the bed and then he swallows harshly when he stares at her. Her shirt is rucked up and he’s staring at her ass. A desire flashes in his mind where he kisses up her spine and peels off her clothes–

“Ash?”

“Hm? Oh, right, sorry,” he clears his throat and puts some more aloe on her lower back. “Your skin is absorbing this like a sponge.”

He smooths it on her back again before squeezing a trail of it up her leg. She giggles at the tickling sensation and Ashton has to force his intrusive thoughts away before he rubs at the soft flesh of her thigh and calves. He even massages her ankles and feet, when he gets to her toes she shrieks out a laugh.

“Don’t touch my toes!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles and moves to her other leg.

“Can you do my front?” she flips over and Ashton stares at her bare stomach that also represents a cherry. It’s driving him crazy how badly he wants to press his lips to her belly and every area visible.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he sighs heavily and squirts some more onto her stomach.

“Ah! That’s cold!” She laughs and he smiles before rubbing it in.

“You should put moisturizer on as well, sunshine.”

“That’s too much work.”

“Want me to do that, too?”

“If you would be so kind,” she smiles up at him.

How can he refuse?

Suffice it to say, Ashton has to take a cold shower after lotioning and massaging his best friend that he’s been attracted to and in love with since the day they met.

***

The next morning of their snorkeling excursion, y/n’s still red but her headache is gone. They stay inside like Ashton insists by watching movies and gazing out at the water where they saw a couple sharks swimming along the bottom. They make sure to pack extra sunscreen when it’s time to go and she has on a hat and sunglasses.

They’re listening to the guide explain the safety precautions and to stay with the group and your partner. Obviously Ashton and y/n were partners. Once they were debriefed it was time to get into the water. Each couple was given an underwater camera and Ashton held her hand as soon as they went under the water.

She was amazed at all the pretty colors of fish and coral. They even saw a sea turtle glide past them, she reached out and touched the smooth back of his shell. It was a whole other world and when she looked over to Ashton, he smiled and winked at her.

After snorkeling they both took a nap and set an alarm for when they’d need to be ready for their sunset dinner. Ashton took a shower first and he had on a nice white shirt with navy blue shorts, his necklaces hanging in the open V of his collar.

“Woah, you clean up nice,” she smiles passing him towards the bathroom.

While he waits, he sits on the deck listening to the waves and writing down lyrics that have been circulating in his mind ever since they landed. They’re all about her and how she looks in the sun floating in the water or with her hair billowing around her as they snorkeled.

The guys asked for updates in their group chat wondering if Ashton told her his true feelings yet. He replied he was waiting for the perfect time and he heard the bathroom door open. He stands up and sees y/n in a pretty blue sundress with her hair pulled behind her back.

“Wow,” he stares at her as she slips on her sandals. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Are we all set to go?”

When they get to the beach where their dinner will be held, they pull off their shoes and follow the waiter to their table. It’s between two palm trees and there’s an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling. A tropical flower is in a small vase in the center of the table along with two lit candles.

“This is so pretty,” she whispers sitting in her chair.

On their plates was the menu for their evening; salmon with scallops and rice with a light butter sauce, a side of roasted red potatoes and then an array of small cheesecakes for dessert.

“I think we’re in heaven,” she says as the waiter pours their champagne.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he lifts his glass and they clink in cheers. “Happy Valentine’s day weekend.”

As soon as their food arrives, they’re both silent because of their enjoyment of the food. The salmon and scallops are cooked to perfection. It’s so good they both finish their plates. When the plate of cheesecakes arrive they take turns feeding each other a different flavor, most of it gets into their mouths.

They’re giggling and having a great time while getting buzzed on their champagne. Once dinner is over, they walk along the shoreline letting the water roll over their toes.

“I never want to leave here,” she sighs when they stop and stare at the moon rising high in the sky. As they walked, she kept stumbling over her feet that Ashton took hold of her hand. They hadn’t let go.

“Me either, it’s like we’re in a whole other world,” he sighs, staring at the waves under the moonlight. “No distractions, no worries.”

“Except sunburns.”

“We’ve learned our lesson, huh?” he smiles looking down at her. She sighs and rests her head against his bicep. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really loving this, Ash. Everything about this place and being here with you…”

“Why do you sound sad?”

“Because when we’re back home we have to stop pretending.”

His heart lurches. Is she saying what he thinks she’s saying?

“y/n, I never pretend with you. I’ve… the reason I brought you here was because I care about you. A lot.”

“What do you mean?” she lifts her head from his arm to look up at him.

“I have feelings for you, feelings that are stronger than friendship.”

“You do?”

“That’s why I brought you here, not just to make sure you have a good Valentine’s Day but to tell you how I feel.”

“Really?” she smiles. “I care about you, too. I’ve had feelings for you since we first met.”

He cups her cheek then leans down to kiss her, her lips taste like champagne and raspberries. Her hands lift behind his neck sighing against his lips. With the ocean and the moon up above, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect first kiss.

***

The next day they’re more affectionate as they swim in the water, lingering kisses and wandering hands are apparent underwater. Their underwater dinner is excellent and they hold hands across the table rubbing each other’s skin affectionately. They gaze at the sea life swimming lazily above them.

When Valentine’s Day is upon them, he awakens her with light kisses and they share a cup of coffee overlooking the sun rising above the ocean. When it’s time for their whale watching, he holds her in his arms as they stare at the whales breaching and spraying water in the air. There’s even a baby that y/n loves to point out, Ashton kisses her cheek each time.

Back at their bungalow, there are rose petals on the bed along with a white fluffy bear holding a heart that says ��be my valentine?’

“Did you plan this?” she asks, staring at the rose petals and adorable bear.

“I did,” he grins, wrapping his arms around her. He kisses her bare shoulder. “Will you be mine?”

She turns in his arms and links her arms behind his neck.

“I’ve always been yours.”

They fall onto the bed, kissing and caressing with clothes being kicked to the floor. When they connect their fingers are laced together. The bear had fallen to the floor and rose petals clung to their skin.

“I love you,” he tells her staring into her eyes as he brushes her hair from her face.

“I love you, too,” she smiles. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day sunshine.”

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @hellasblessed

#ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin fluff #ashton writing #ashton 5sos writing

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heavenstocharlee · 3 years

Text

Incandescent // j.suh

“If we kiss, it all becomes real.”

Summary: You have a strict rule: Never ever hook up at weddings. Despite your distorted view on romance, you were invited to attend an evening wedding in Chicago. Little did you know, you were about to meet a charming man who was willing to break the rules. You decide to lay your cards on the table and see if this man can make your night a little more interesting. One game to test the fateful waters, but can your heart remain steadfast?

Characters: Johnny Suh x fem!reader

Category: strangers to lovers!au / fluff / tooth-aching amount of flirt / slight angst

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none

Song inspiration: You Don’t Know Me by Michael Bublé

Writer’s notes: Hello everyone! Here is a fic inspired by an episode in How I Met Your Mother (S1E12: The Wedding) when Ted met Victoria for the first time. This is part 1/2 of the Light Series, and I hope to publish the sequel before the year ends. However, this can also be read as a stand-alone story, so I hope you enjoy regardless! This was my most challenging fic to write yet, but I am ecstatic to share this piece with you guys. Best wishes to everyone and happy reading!

The romantic tune of the waltz rouses you from your dazed consciousness. It seems like you have been staring at the newly wedded couple in front of you for quite some time now. The honeyed atmosphere of the room is quite palpable, as the lovers are dimly lit and holding each other on the dance floor. You divert your gaze to the decorations of the room. It is simple yet carefully elegant in its way, so you remind yourself to give compliments to the planner later. The groom preferred a classic Victorian-styled décor, so they coordinated cream and peach-colored themes. On the other hand, the bride requested the presence of white daisies, as it reminded her of their first date in a botanical garden in London. Her smiles do ring of innocence, you thought, so it was only fitting for the blossoms to appear on this occasion. Moments like these seem to play in your mind frame by frame, and so are the wistful sentiments that have echoed in your heart for quite some time now.

This is all a mirage.

They are not real.

Being accustomed to all the niceties and celebrations, you know that these memories are soon fleeting. Your parents, despite seeming like the most “in love” people you know, still ended up divorcing each other years after having you. These kinds of dreamy atmospheres trick you into thinking that love lasts forever. Although the truth is, it does not. That’s why despite having plenty of opportunities to find “the one” on these occasions, you avoid having one at all. Countless men have tried to pursue the typical wedding hookup with you, but with this thought in mind, you never budge.

You shake off your ruminations with a glass of champagne and offered a toast to the happy couple on the dance floor. As you take a sip, a fine young man across the room captures your attention. He seemed to have been staring at you for while now. The man is wearing a black velvet tux with a red corduroy tie, accessorized with white cuff links that compliment his silver watch. His hair is a shade of ash brown which greatly suited his golden complexion. He avoids eye contact right away, making him more guilty of the crime, and it prompted a smile across your face as you set the drink on the table.

You did look extra well put together today, wearing a dusty rose-colored dress with a velvet navy ribbon that stretched around your waist. Adorned this ensemble is a French braid updo, silver jewelry, and cream-colored heels. It is no surprise to you to get hit on during these events, however, there is something about this man that piqued your interest. Sneaking a second glance, you try to take more advantage of his strong and angelic features. However, he stands up from his seat and slowly makes his way over in your direction. Chanting every prayer in the book, you secretly hope that he sums up the bravery to come by your table and make your night slightly interesting.

And he did.

“Is this seat taken?” The young fellow asked.

“No, go ahead.” You shyly replied. Upon closer look, you were able to see more of his facial features. His piercing eyes were a shade of dark brown, nose and cheeks carved by the gods, and lips tinted pink. With his stunning built, he could pass as a sculpture in an art museum.

“You know the couple?” He inquired.

“Yes, but not quite as much. How about you?”

“The groom is one of my closest friends, and I got to see how they fell in love from day one.” He gently spoke with a dazzling smile.

“I see.” You smiled fondly. He was a smooth talker, you thought, probably experienced in this game. He stretched his elbow on the table and leaned unto his hand, before letting out the words that you have heard in most of your flirting encounters.

“I must wonder, what is a lovely woman doing in a wedding without a date?” His eyebrows indicated curiosity. The man holds his gaze unto yours patiently waiting for a reply, and this sweet gesture sent chills down your spine.

“I did bring a date.” Gulping your sparkly drink before you answered truthfully. “But he just left me a couple of minutes ago with a guy he fancied the whole evening.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “Oddly enough, my date, a.k.a. my sister, also ditched me this evening. So, we’re even.” The gentle soul offers you a toast. You gave your best smile as a courtesy and clinked your beverage unto his.

You watch as the translucent drink slowly fizzle out before uttering your sentiment to the curious fellow.

“I have a rule you see... I never hook up at weddings.” You admitted. This man seems to be wearing his heart on his sleeve, as you were certain his face showed genuine confusion and interest.

“Why is that so?” He asked. “With that beauty of yours, I’m sure you are bound to take someone home tonight.”

Oh, he really is flirting.

“You see,” You gazed upon the populated couples waltzing on the dance floor. “The moment we enter this sanctuary we wear wedding goggles. We see a mirage of what things could be. Well, the truth of the matter is, these romantic moments…” You take a pause.

“…they are not real.”

The change in your tone and expression seems to set the man back. It is the first time you’ve ever explained to someone your belief in these festivities. He doesn’t seem to be turned off by it, but rather his eyes showed understanding.

“Now… that is really something.” He looked at his lap seemingly careful to choose the right words for his next move. “I do agree that the romantic atmosphere can get a hold of your feelings for a bit, but how about an instance where someone really piqued your interest? How would you propose a solution for that?” He then looks at you, with no faults in mind, straight to your core. Almost as if he were searching for a chance to be let into the gates you’ve put up across your heart.

You cross your arms and try to think of it, but since there hasn’t been really a time where a guy has ever been curious enough to know you beyond the superficial, the solution seemed to never cross your mind. Something was different though because after looking at him the answer seemed to emerge.

“How about taking advantage of the romantic atmosphere?” You proposed.

“A night of just enjoying other’s presence. Pure anonymity. That way the memory of that night is never tarnished.” This time you look him straight on. Never fazing for a second.

“One magical night. Then never meeting each other again?” He asked and you slowly nodded as a reply.

“The thing about wedding hookups is the morning after. They realize that they have just been caught in the moment. There are no more wedding goggles, and it all has been a lie.” You sharply remarked. You took a breath before continuing this game you’re proposing.

“But with this solution, we are never bound to anything. No names. No backgrounds. No morning after.”

“A memory of just…” You look at him in the eye.

“Us.”

He gazes at you with amazement in his eyes, and all you could wonder right now is: Why is he still listening not leaving after hearing such a ridiculous request? From the outside glance, it does sound like an absurd waste of time. Is he willing to take the chance?

“That is quite an interesting proposal, my lady.” He gently takes your hand that was placed on the table, before uttering his answer.

“If I had the chance to spend any time, even just a couple hours with you… I would do it without hesitation.” He places a gentle kiss upon it, sealing the agreement. You quickly try to avert your eyes and blushed state, but you just know that this man… is a force to be reckoned with.

You desperately try to deny how tempted you are right now to sweep this man of his feet; however, you know you are going to be in for a ride tonight.

“Do people tell you your cheesy? Because you absolutely are.” He chuckles at your remark. “I guess they do, but I just can’t help it even more with you. You seem like the type of person who secretly enjoys having sweets every once in a while.” He winks. You let out a big laugh because of how absurdly flirty this guy is. It would be lying if you said it wasn’t making your heart flutter a little.

“Now that I think about it, we probably need a code name. I don’t want to just refer to you as that “charming guy I met at a wedding”.” The confident man’s weakness appeared through the slight blush in his cheeks when you mentioned the word charming. His sudden shy state is now forever embedded in your brain.

“Well, it seems like my moves have worked already.” He slowly leaned into his right arm.

“I guess you can call me…” There it goes again, that cunningly beautiful smile.

“Apollo.”

“God of sun… quite narcissistic don’t you think?” You replied.

“You could say that... or maybe I just love spending time in daylight and listening to music?” He crossed his arms in confidence.

You close your eyes and lean back into the chair to think of your codename. The image of the daisy across the table was the first thing that popped into your head. Without giving any clues as to who you are, it seems to fit you just perfectly.

“I guess I’ll go with Daisy.”

He contemplates in thought. “It does sound like you. Untainted and innocent.” More than the remark, it shocked you more that he knows flower language.

“You got that from like minutes of our conversation? You don’t know me yet, Apollo.” You gave your sly smile, but he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all.

“So… how should we start this night of my dear Daisy?” He straightens his posture and starts readying himself for the night that is about to happen. You want to get off on the right foot, so you decide to test the waters with the man in front of you. Is he as brave as he seems to be?

“How about we get out of this reception hall and explore this gorgeous venue?” You slowly stand up and arrange your dress. You gave the man beside you an inviting grin.

“The night is still young, Apollo.”

He offers his arm for support and leads you into the doors of the reception hall.

If Johnny could compare his level of excitement to his fondest memory, it would be when his dad gave him his first set of cameras. He knew from the moment he received the camera; it would ultimately change the way he sees life. Later down the road, it ignited his love for photography, which subsequently landed him his job as the head photographer of Vogue Korea.

Though being born and raised in Chicago, he fell in love with Korea when he took a company trip with his friends once. He ultimately stayed there for work and went back to the city occasionally to meet his parents. Taeyong, the groom, often accompanied him during his stays in Chicago, and coincidentally met the love of his life there. Right now, all he ever thought was 1) how happy he was to get some time away from work, 2) see one of his closest friends married (of course), and 3) be back home in Chicago even if it's just one night.

Johnny was not an amateur when it comes to love. He has been dating around, but none of them seem to stick. Taeyong definitely beat him to it, meeting his soulmate in Johnny’s own hometown. All the traveling for his work also seemed to dismantle any lasting relationship. The heart-tugging feelings were not new, but something about tonight and this woman… oh, this beautiful human, that got him head over heels. He didn’t want to make this menial interaction as important as it is, however, the connection he was feeling was unreal. He just didn’t want to let go of it. Or more like he can’t. No matter how hard he tried.

The lovely woman who calls herself Daisy invites him to the carpeted floors of the venue. Her voice echoing the halls sparks a tingle inside his chest.

“Okay, Apollo. Are you ready to start this night?” You gave the biggest smile.

“Absolutely. What is our first mission?” Johnny rubs his palm together out of excitement.

“Let’s warm up first! How about…” You look around, seemingly making sure that not one soul would see the thing you were about to do.

“Let’s do a cartwheel! Up until that white door.” You enthusiastically suggest.

“Oh, you meant a literal warm-up! Damn, if I knew we would be working out I could’ve stretched.” Johnny then loosens up his tie and extends his arm for a stretch.

“You would be fine, Apollo. I mean look at me, I am definitely not dressed for the occasion.” You look down at your rose-colored dress.

He jokingly put his right hand on his chest and his left hand in the air. “I promise I won’t think of anything indecent, Daisy.”

“Thank you, or else this night will end in a police station.”

“Besides…” You add and slowly picked up the fabric of your dress.

“I’m wearing biker shorts, so there’s no room for the imagination.” You lift your dress confidently. Johnny can lie all he wants, but the slight blush across his cheeks shows how taken aback he is by the woman’s braveness. He coughs to regain his resolve.

“I guess, ladies first?” You decide to do a quick side lunge before heading over to the other side of the room for a head start. You breathe in deeply before running and doing a gorgeous cartwheel. Once you felt near the end, you face Johnny and offer him the biggest smile. Little did you know that all that goes through this man’s head is how that smile of yours fills a part of him that has been missing. And so there it is again, the spark.

“How was that?” You confidently ask.

“Quite underwhelming honestly.” Johnny lies to see your reaction.

“Well then, show me what you got Mr. Apollo.” You taunted. Johnny does the same thing but instead of getting that perfect landing, he stumbles for a bit. It’s probably the wine, he thought. Enduring the embarrassing thing he did just now, he turns to you and sees you laughing like there’s no tomorrow.

“I was not going to give excuses, but I think it’s the wine plus my height.” Johnny shyly scratches his head.

“Oh no, that was just perfect.” You wipe the happy tears in your eyes while tapping him on the forearm. Seeing you laugh this much, Johnny thought the stumble was worth it.

“Okay! Let’s move on before I get swallowed by the earth.” He sighed. You give it much thought, but then you were reminded of one of the things that make this venue so special. “By any chance, do you know how to play the piano?” You ask.

“Yes. I played since I was a kid.” After hearing this, Johnny was confident that he would not fail this one.

“I know there’s a music hall here somewhere, maybe you can make up for that embarrassing fall.” You gave a cheeky grin.

“You are not going to let that one go, are you?” Johnny groans.

He puts his hand on his chin, in thought. “I think I stumbled upon that room earlier too, but Daisy…” He leans in closer amused by your now blushed state.

“With that, I am pretty sure I can capture your heart.” His heavenly smile strikes again.

Johnny then takes you by the hand before you could even process what the hell you just witness.

The night perseveres and a sleek red velvet curtain welcomes you to the entrance of the music hall. A white piano sits at the corner of the room seated on top of a Victorian-style carpet. The walls were a shade of cream accented by wallpaper with gold flowers. The roof was adorned with a golden chandelier which perfectly takes in the moonlight across the window. The atmosphere couldn’t be even more magical. The man leads you towards the piano and gently repositions himself into the bench.

“Any specific songs you have in mind, milady?” He asks while carefully placing his fingers into the white keys. A piece came into your mind right away. You suddenly dared to test the fates and see if this night was all too good to be true. Because right now, the jigsaw pieces seem to fit perfectly.

“Do you know Saties’ Gymnopedies No. 1 in D Major? It is one of my favorites.” You replied. He gave you soft smile before giving his answer.

“Seems like we have similar tastes. It is actually one of the first pieces I’ve learned.”

Oh, the fates strike again.

Smiling to yourself, you shyly suggested a change of pace in this lovely evening.

“I’ve learned a dance to this piece. Would you like to see it?” You glanced up to meet his brown eyes.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” At the slow counts of melody, you both played to your heart's content. He was providing the scenic accompaniment, and you performed the classical dance routine you learned back in college. You admit that the moves are still rough at the edges, but you made sure that every melody is met with grace and delicateness in honor of the classical piece. You were glancing at him from time to time and he gave you such gentle smiles of reassurance. From the stretch of your arms and legs to the flow of your curves, you danced along with his fingers.

Johnny is trying his best to concentrate on playing, but he couldn’t help but fawn over the angel dancing in his presence. He admired the elegant movements you are exhibiting that accompanied his playing. The moonlight gently struck you in places that emphasized the curvatures of your body.

To him, you were glowing effortlessly.

He swore time slowed down then and there because he could see everything of you despite knowing you for so little.

As the piece slowly come to an end, you came to sit beside the young man and placed your head gently on his right shoulder. This was your way of showing gratitude to the man who serenaded you. Sinking slowly into every note and you are embracing the soul being poured out in this very moment. With the last note, you lifted your head to closely meeting Johnny’s sultry eyes.

“You know the best part of a kiss?” You mentioned giving his lips a look.

“What is it?” He replies by doing the same.

“It’s the moment before the kiss. The lead-up. The drum roll.” There must be something in that room that worked up your courage. You slowly moved closer to his face initiating the move.

“But is that unfair? This night needs to be sealed.” He gazes at you lovingly.

“Apollo…” Now closer to his lips you softly breathe.

“If we kiss, it all becomes real.”

You could stare at him without all the care in the world. Oh, how wonderful it truly would be to steal his lips right now being centimeters away from it. However, you know the rule. This only needs to be remembered by tonight. So, you satisfy yourself with that for now, the lead-up before the kiss. With breaths exchanged, closeness without boundaries, he took your hand and held it with reassurance.

His eyes replied for you, and they are saying this is more than enough.

Johnny knew that this night is coming to its end, so he decided to take you to the fountain outside the venue. During the day, the flower garden was more visible, however, the nightly atmosphere gave it more mystery and glamor. The leaves glistened from the night light and the waters reflected the dark effervescent skies. He held both of your hands and proposed an ending for your magical night.

“Would you like to dance with me under this moonlight, Daisy?” He offers a hand, looking like one of those princes in royal movies.

“It would be an honor, Apollo.” You courteously replied feeling like you were a princess in this film.

He pulled you closer as you waltz into your beat. Faint music from the wedding hall can be heard, however, you were swaying to the rhythm of your hearts. You leaned your head against his right chest, and he placed his chin atop of it. He continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear just to see your reaction, but after some time you pulled yourself from his embrace and look him in the eye. His eyes spoke sadness, and you knew goodbyes were the worst.

Despite that, parting from him seem to be harder than most.

“There’s a flaw in our game, Daisy.” He mentions while gently tracing circles at your hand. You looked at him curiously.

“I’m going to be the only one who has a memory of you leaving this place, and never seeing you again.” You replied with eyes filled with longingness and sincerity.

“I had an amazing night, Apollo.” You looked down on his hand holding unto yours before exchanged yearning gazes with him.

“I will never forget this moment, I spent with you. I hope you do cherish it as well, as for the first time in a while, I felt… alive.” You replied with the most genuine smile you could offer tonight.

“I’ll never forget you, Daisy. I don’t think I could even if I tried.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, and you slowly leaned into it, hopefully remembering every second of it. He moved closer inching to where your lips are, closely yet never touching.

What a fool you’ve made yourself.

You don’t want to break hearts, but why is yours breaking?

“One last favor… can you close your eyes for me and count to 10?”

He knows what is about to happen but does it anyway. You are left with the image of this man, underneath the moonlight, whom you will never see again. Not knowing who he is or what he does but knowing that the time you shared that one night in Chicago will be untainted forever. Slowly, you walked away gratefully knowing that the time you shared was worth remembering forever.

He was incandescent.

Strikingly bright, radiant, and clear.

Truly marked by brilliance.

Johnny opened his eyes to reality, an empty soul, and bright moonlight. He never got to see you leave, and the gravity of your loss was emphasized even more. He felt like a part of him was lost. Just when everything made sense, like a perfect piece in his jigsaw of life, now he is left to wonder if he made the right decision. One thing’s for sure, the night was as perfect and magical as it would be.

And for that, he was thankful.

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