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acourtofwhatthefuck · 9 months

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Loose Lips — Part Two (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Finally got round to writing a part two to this after a sudden burst of inspiration. Here is Part One if you missed it.

This isn't proofread, so sorry if it's a pile of dicks. Enjoy!

Warnings: smuttysmutsmut 🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

The forest was undoubtedly beautiful. A place of sure serenity. Somewhere you’d always found peace.

Right now, you felt like nothing short of a thunderbolt in its flawless midst.

You shifted on your feet for what felt like the millionth time, pressing your back against a tree and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t be able to relax until this meeting was over with.

Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked over you, and he frowned. “Are you alright? Why are you so restless?”

Because we’re here to meet with Eris and the last time I did that I somehow, kind of, maybe ended up fucking him—

“Fine.” You quickly answered. “Pain. My cycle is coming.”

Rhys’s eyes softened. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Once the prick actually deigns to show up.”

You didn’t have a shred of doubt that Eris’s tardiness was deliberate — a power play. And he could play all the games he liked, so long as he kept his damn mouth shut.

As if you’d summoned him with a thought, the Autumn male appeared out of a chill-kissed breeze, his crackling-fire-and-cinnamon scent enveloping you. You tried desperately to block it out — and the sinful thoughts that accompanied it. Of bare skin. Panting breaths. Moans—

“Afternoon.” Eris smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He offered Rhysand a cursory glance before turning his attention on you. “You’re looking radiant today, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips. Kept your mouth shut. You weren’t getting into it with him — weren’t giving him any ammunition to spill the truth of what had transpired a month earlier.

His lips twitched as he studied you. “What, no smartass response?”

“Cut the shit, Eris.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Share your information so we can get out of here. We don’t wish to be subjected to your tedious company for any longer than is necessary.”

He cocked his head, and you hated that you noticed he’d cut his hair since you’d last seen him. “Do you not like my company?”

You knew his words were directed at you. He’d come here to play games, and you were having none of it. He allowed his gaze to linger on you for a second longer before turning to your High Lord.

“Well?” Rhys cocked an eyebrow.

Eris folded his arms. “The King of Hybern…”

You didn’t allow yourself to hear the rest of his sentence. For the first time in your career as Rhysand’s courtier, you tuned out, taking in none of the information that was being given. You didn’t hear a word of their discussion as you stared fiercely at a fallen leaf on the ground. You couldn’t.

Because it tortured you on a daily basis that you knew what the redhead’s voice sounded like when he was falling off that precipice into blissful release. The way it had hitched when he’d groaned deeply and spilled into you. It was all you could think about, and you couldn’t bear it.

Guilt had eaten away at you ever since. Guilt and regret. You should never have given yourself to Eris fucking Vanserra.

You only felt safe enough to tune back in when Rhys turned his gaze on you. He gave a subtle dip of his chin, and you returned it — the signal the two of you shared when you’d gleaned useful information to tuck away.

Never mind the fact that you didn’t have a single clue what that information may be.

“Alright, then.” Rhys spoke tersely to the Autumn lord. “Keep me updated. I’ll be in touch when I next need to meet with you.”

“Will it be you, High Lord?” Eris’s lips turned up. He glanced at you. “Or her? I must say, I find her far more appealing to look at.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise. Something to look forward to in your sad little life.” Rhys turned to you, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

You shook your head. “You go. I promised Madja I’d collect some herbs for her while I’m here.”

A small, pathetic part of you wanted to beg Rhys to stay; to keep you company and not leave you alone with Eris. But he was a busy male — far too busy for the drama you’d created for yourself. You plastered a smile on your face.

“I’ll see you at home, then.” He smiled. And without a goodbye to your tentative ally, he disappeared before your eyes.

Eris smirked as he turned to you. “And then there were two.”

“Leave me alone.” You pulled your foraging knife out, turning on your feet. You didn’t look back as you began to kick through leaves and twigs.

But, of course, he was hot on your trail. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody who made you cum not once, not twice, but three times.”

You clenched your jaw, ignoring him as you knelt down in front of a cluster of plants. You would do better this time. You wouldn’t allow your mouth to run you down a path you couldn’t come back from.

He didn’t make it easy, though. Not as you tried to focus yourself solely on gathering the herbs Madja had listed. Despite the lack of conversation — or even acknowledgement of him — Eris pressed himself against a tree and watched you, absentmindedly cleaning his nails with the point of a dagger.

How could you ever have fallen into bed with him? You were such a damn idiot, risking everything for a few fleeting moments of passion. You tucked the herbs neatly away, pushing to your feet and brushing dirt and leaves from your breeches. You turned—

And stopped as Eris appeared in front of you. He smirked. “I’m still waiting, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For you to thank me for not spilling your dirty little secret.”

Prick. You shoved past him, ignoring his warmth, his scent.

He was at your side in seconds. “Aren’t you so relieved that I didn’t slip up and tell Rhysand about your little ride? I still could.”

Every last drop of your sensibility fizzled out. You couldn’t stop yourself from rounding on him. “Are you truly in a position to be threatening me? Both of us fucked up that night. What do you think Beron would have to say if he found out you’d bedded someone from the Night Court, of all places?”

“My father doesn’t care who I bed. I’m free to do whatever I please, so long as it doesn’t distract me from the ultimate goal.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

His amber gaze glittered, catching the sun. “World domination.”

You rolled your eyes. “How very cliche.”

You made to push past him again, to get the fuck out of there, but his hand was suddenly gripping onto yours. In seconds, he had you pressed against the body of a tree.

You clenched your jaw. “Get. The hell. Away from—”

The remainder of the sentence didn’t have a chance to so much as form as Eris’s mouth found yours.

The press of his kiss was hot and needy, and as his lips moulded with yours, he groaned.

It was that action that made you realise just how little space existed between your bodies. His hips were pinned to yours, keeping you in place, and the warmth of him seeped into you as your breasts brushed his chest. Within seconds — mere seconds of him kissing you — you felt him harden in his breeches. His groan seemed to vibrate through every part of him and into you.

And then he was tearing his lips from yours. Staring down at you. “Fuck, you taste amazing. I’ve thought about nothing but this,” he rolled his hips against you, making sure your attention went exactly where he wanted it, “for over a month, now. Tell me you’ve been just as crazed.”

You had been. Perhaps more so. But you swallowed. “I can’t.”

That didn’t deter Eris from slanting his lips over yours again. His tongue swiped out, brushing against the seam of your lips, and you were powerless against your need as you opened your mouth and allowed him to dip in.

You gasped at the first taste of him; something cool and crisp and smoky. And you knew you were done fighting, telling yourself you didn’t want this, as you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him more firmly against you.

He grunted as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against your stomach. His lips slid from yours, dragging slowly over your cheek, and then the cut of your jaw, down to your neck.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He panted, pressing quick, chaste kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Tell me to stop.”

You swallowed, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. “No.”

And that single word — as much as it pained you to say it — dragged such a delicious, guttural noise from him, that you forgot entirely about who you were and why this was wrong. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than what Eris was doing.

Your mouth went so very, very dry as he pulled away to meet your gaze. And then lowered himself to his knees before you.

He was utterly uncaring of the dirt and leaves that stuck to his breeches as he clasped your legs. And the hard press of his hands felt scorching through your own pants. You wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d turned the clothing to mere ash he dragged his palms up the backs of your legs and cupped your ass.

“You’re fucking mouthwatering.” He dipped in, pressing a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “I need to taste you.”

“Holy gods.” You cursed, your head falling back against the tree. “Do it, then.”

Like a male entirely starved and desperate, his nimble fingers moved to the buttons on your breeches, making quick work of getting them undone. The second they were loosened enough, he yanked them down with a feral command that had heat rushing between your legs.

And he could scent that. You knew it. He inhaled deeply, and his responding moan was sinful.

“This is wrong.” Your voice was weak, useless, as your head fell back.

“So wrong.” Eris hooked his fingers into the thin waistband of your undergarments. Tugged them down..

You made no move to stop him. “And stupid. And selfish. And—”

Your words turned into a moan as he dipped in and dragged his tongue up the very centre of you.

A satisfied grunt left him, and he lifted your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. It had you at a better angle, closer to him, so he could feast on you.

And feast, he did.

His mouth and tongue were renowned for wielding wicked, barbed words, but this was a different language entirely. His fingers dug into your legs as he buried himself between your thighs, licking and lapping and fucking devouring. He made his way up, scraping teeth over your clit, the sensation both pleasant and unpleasant. Before you had a chance to react, he soothed over the area with the pad of his tongue, and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surged through you.

“Oh, gods.” Breathy words escaped your lips. Thank the Mother above for the mammoth tree at your back that gave you the support to move as you wished to move, undulating your hips, grinding against Eris’s face.

And from the way he growled and feasted on you harder, you knew he liked it. He was becoming coated in you, painting himself with your wetness. With the roll of your hips picking up pace, he didn’t falter once.

“Look at you.” He breathed, eyes flicking up to drink you in. “You’re a fucking vision.”

“Stop talking and make me—oh.”

Your hips bucked as he slid a finger into you, the friction of his callused skin like a sinful bite you wanted more of. You didn’t know if you vocalised that, or if Eris simply read you well, but he quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out.

“Just as you felt around my cock that night.” He panted. “Squeezing me like that.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, needing to just…to just grab onto something. He seemed to like it as you pulled, and he thrust his fingers faster in return.

“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” His tongue stroked at you. “And again on my cock.”

Somewhere, some steeled part of you wanted to give a smartass retort. But you were far too gone, splintering into tiny shards of pleasure against that tree. There was nothing, in that moment, besides the sensations Eris Vanserra dragged from between your thighs. No long-lived feuds or tentative alliances or right or wrong.

It was just him. His fingers. His tongue.

And it sent you hurtling right off that blissful cliff edge into release.

As you came, you thought you maybe shouted loud enough to frighten the birds from the trees. Your pleasure was a fearsome force as it stormed your body, your mind, your soul, until you weren’t sure who you’d be without it. How you could survive not experiencing this weightlessness again.

And Eris…he seemed to enjoy your pleasure as much as you did. Even though his cock strained through his breeches, touched by nothing but torturous fabric, his tongue and fingers continued to guide you through your climax, and he peppered in filthy, scandalous words that you were far too fractured to make sense of.

Until he pulled back to look up at you again. “I’ve wanted you since the second I first saw you.” He said.

You weren’t sure you could deny, any longer, that this truly had been going on for that long. It didn’t start with that one night of bad decisions driving you into bed with him. It had been years and years of thinly-veiled threats and barbed words and insults and vitriol soaked in lust.

Every bit of hatred you’d ever directed at each other had been to try and avoid this — giving in to a carnal need that had existed between you since the first ever time your eyes had met.

You knew you didn’t have that strength, that resolve, anymore.

“I need you inside me.” Your voice was rough, raw. You reached down, shamelessly yanking Eris to his feet by the fabric of his jacket, not caring that your desperation showed. “Fuck me.”

You wanted it — him — hot and hard and fast and certainly not gentle. You wanted the bark of the tree biting into you as he pounded you from behind. You wanted him roaring as unguarded as you had.

“You’re a little brat.” Was all he responded. And then he was kissing you again.

You allowed him the control of your lips as your fingers tore at the front buttons on his breeches. Nothing was moving fast enough, and you were hot all over, desperate to feel him pulsing deep inside you—

Y/N. I need you back here.

Rhysand’s voice in your head was akin to be plunged in ice-cold water. Damn daemati. You froze in place, your hands falling still.

Eris didn’t seem to notice as he kissed his way along your jaw.

Y/N. Rhys spoke into your mind again. Get back as soon as you can. Need to discuss Azriel’s report.

You sucked in a breath, planting your hands on Eris’s arms. You pushed him off you. “I have to leave.”

He paused, surprise crossing his face. “What?”

“I can’t — I’m needed back home.” Clarity was dawning on you more and more, paired with guilt. You’d fucked up again. You tried to shake the feeling off as you yanked your underwear and breeches up in one go. “I can’t do this.”

“Seriously?” Eris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now?”

It was an effort not to glance down at the very unsatisfied bulge still pressing through his breeches. “Rhys just spoke into my thoughts. He needs me back.”

“How convenient.”

Of course he didn’t believe you. You had to admit, it didn’t look great — getting an earth-shattering orgasm out of him and then leaving.

But perhaps it was a blessing from the Mother. Perhaps she was stopping you taking it too far a second time.

“Believe what you want.” You pushed past Eris, buttoning your breeches up. “I answer to my High Lord first and foremost.”

“Go running back to him then.” Eris shrugged. And if you weren’t mistaken, you thought that a strange quality lay in his tone. Perhaps hurt, or…or jealousy. “He says jump and you say how high, right?”

“You have your High Lord, Eris,” you smoothed over the wrinkles in your clothes, “and I have mine.”

He pressed his back against the tree, watching with an unreadable expression as you checked yourself over.

And then the corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “That is a very, very bad idea.”

You winnowed out of there before he could respond.

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netflix · 8 months

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Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact?

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do. This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of?

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that?

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right?

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be?

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work?

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling. It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

#spotlight #entertainment spotlight #adam stockhausen #wes anderson #production design #filmblr #wes weaving #web weaving

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 4 months

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He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter One

Summary: Life didn't turn out the way you wanted. You got the guy, and the job but everything else you had ever wanted has been crumbling around you. Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: yändere, manipulation, domestic violence, self harm, cheating, explicit language, hints at smut, angst, idk what else lol a/n: Ahh thank you so much for all of the love so far on the intro and even all the notes on the masterlist hehe. I'm really loving the direction this story is going in so I hope you guys will too! And thanks again to @kkusadmirer for the request!

Opening my laptop I pull up the most recent edit I had done on the next chapter I was working on.

I'm a writer, not an incredibly famous one but a writer nonetheless. I make enough to get by and I'm able to work from home so that's all I ever really wanted. Just a silly girl, writing her silly stories, living her silly life.

But unfortunately things don't always turn out the way you want them to.

I thought I had it all, perfect grades and a perfect boyfriend with a loving family and a bright bright future. Now looking back at it all and seeing all of the stuff in the background that I somehow missed just makes me feel foolish.

How could I not notice Taehyung wondering eye? Why did I not listen to what my friends used to say about him? Why did I leave all of my friends behind for him?

Being so wrapped up and so in love with him I didn't even notice the fact that my family was falling apart. My mom cheated on my dad and I never knew until they told me they were getting a divorce.

While my brother was struggling in high school while being around all of their screaming and fighting and finally got committed to a mental institution when he had a psychotic break.

I never knew anything about that. It's not like I didn't care, but I just never really reached out or gave them enough time to reach out to me.

I was always like 'Oh Tae just got home I have to go' or 'Tae is expecting me so I need to get going'. My world has revolved around him for so long that my family and friends feel like strangers.

How could I have been so stupid and neglected them, all for one guy?

The one that I wanted to build a future with and promised to do the same with me. Now here I am, 24 with student loans up to my neck and a sorry excuse for a marriage with a husband that is never home.

I don't know what I managed to do in my past life that ended up royally fucking me up in this one but I'm sorry. Why couldn't I have done better so I would be saved from having my spirit broken and my heart ripped to shreds.

The only positive thing is that this has given me is the inspiration to come up with an even more fucked up series of books that has been my only source of income for the past few years.

Years, wow.

Thinking about how much time has passed and how things went to shit so quickly helped me continue down this downward spiral and I don't know how to make it stop. Although the sound of keys jingling outside the front door is my rude awakening, my brain knowing I need to be conscious of what may happen next.

I quickly wipe off the tears that I didn't even realized had started to fall and clear my throat. Moments later I'm met with the sight of Taehyung walking in wearing the same shirt I had seen him in yesterday but sports a brand new hickey near the collar, just barely noticeable but he makes no effort to hide it.

"Y/n" I hear him call out, breaking me out of my train of thought. "Yes?" I question, hating that I've been caught off guard even though I was staring right at him. "I asked if we have anything to eat" he says, making his way over to the refrigerator, now going to see if he can answer his own question before I'm even given another second to speak up.

"Um yeah I think there's some left over pizza from last night" I say and get up to walk towards him. "So how was work yesterday?" I ask tentatively, still not sure what kind of mood he's in. "Exhausting but it is what it is I guess" he says while stuffing his face full of a cold slice of pepperoni pizza.

I turn to walk away while nodding my head, not bothering to ask anything else since it seems from his vague answers that he's not in the mood to talk.

"Hey" he says, gently grabbing my wrist with the hand that wasn't occupied with the pizza, leaving me frozen in place. I know better than to walk away from him. Even if he's not mad at the moment doesn't mean that he won't be in the next.

"Where are you running off to?" he asks pulling me close by that same wrist. Still doing so carefully but pressing on the bruises that he had left there from the last fight we had.

He sees my slight look of discomfort and how my vision is trained on the wrist he's still holding and rolls up my sleeve, taking a quick look and seeing the evidence of his past transgressions.

"It left a mark huh?" he says examining the spot further and then bringing it up to his face where he places a few featherlight kisses on it, making a flash of heat run through my system when he looks back up at me with those eyes.

Those bedroom eyes that never fail to put me in a trance. He lifts his hand up towards my face and I flinch not knowing what to expect and see him stopping for a second, surprised by my reaction.

"Don't be afraid baby, it's just me" he says and keeps going, hooking his finger on the collar of my turtleneck to pull it to the side, no doubt searching for other marks.

"There's marks here too. I guess it's a good thing you stay home. Don't want to have to make up excuses for those now would you?" he says tapping under my chin twice, a slight lilt in his tone, enjoying my clear discomfort in showing them to someone, even if it's the person that's caused them.

"What did you do today baby?" he asks, letting go of me and going back to grab a few other things out of the fridge to complete his meal. "Oh you know, just some writing" I say, trailing off and giving him the same answer that I've given him time and time again.

"You almost done with it?" he questions, only really asking so he knows when my next big payday will be.

I shake my head "No, not yet. I think I'm only about halfway though" I say, giving simple answers to his simple questions. "Well you better get it out soon. I bet your readers are dying to know what happens next" he says giving me a quick wink before taking everything he has in his hands and carrying it over to the couch.

"Do you think you could grab me a beer?" he asks, but I know it's more of a courtesy than anything phrasing it like I actually had an option. I respond with a quiet yeah and bring it over to him, placing it on the coffee table.

"Thanks babe" he says and grabs a ahold of my hand and angles his head up, clearly asking for a kiss to which I oblige. Again something I don't really have an option in doing. "I missed you" he says and rubs his nose against mine cutely, or at least it used to be cute. Now it just makes me sad thinking of all of those times when we were happy.

"Are you gonna watch the game with me?" this time giving me something that I actually have a choice in. "I think I've got some more writing I'd like to do" I say and he nods his head not even bothering to look at me or give me a verbal sign of acknowledgment before turning on said game and slumping back into the couch to watch.

I walk over to my desk that happens to unfortunately be in the living room so I'm forced to grab my headphones to drown out the sound so I can hopefully get another chapter or two in before I call it a night.

~~~~~~

"Baby" I hear him call for me through my headphones after some time, that's something that I've had to fine tune. Making sure I can hear him when he talks to me no matter what so it's one less thing I have to worry about him getting upset about.

I pull out my headphones and turn my attention towards him, half expecting him to ask me to get him a beer. "Yes?" I reply, waiting to see what he needs. "Come here" he says holding his hand out to me and spreading his legs, showing me where he wants me.

I get up and walk towards him, straddling him once I get close enough and putting my arms around his neck. "Hi" he says in a deep voice sending a shockwave through my nervous system. "Hi" I respond quietly, intimidated at the thought of what he might do next. "How was the game?" I ask tentatively, hoping for my own sake that there was a favorable result.

"We won" he says, mindlessly tracing his hands up and down my curves. "How's your book?" he asks leaning into my neck, placing kisses over the bruises he had noticed from before. "

It's going" I whisper, starting to feel breathless from his warm breath fanning the sensitive parts of my skin. "Ready for a break?" he asks, question laced with a mischievous tone. I hum in acknowledgment, tilting my head to the side so he can have his fun.

~~~~~~

"I'm gonna head out but I'll be back later" Taehyung says while getting dressed with me still laying there with only a sheet to cover my body. "You're leaving?" I question, knowing he just said that but hoping he'll give me some sort of explanation.

"The guys wanted to meet up for a couple of drinks to talk about the game. Get some rest okay? I'll be back in a few hours" he says planting a soft kiss on my lips and one on my forehead.

I nod as he pulls the comforter over me as well, starting to already to drift off to sleep. "Stay safe" I mumble and flip over to the other side to try and get more comfortable.

He looks down at me for a second and chuckles at my fucked out and sleepy state before walking out of our bedroom and soon I'm left with the sound of him closing and locking the door behind him.

Although this night was bittersweet I'm thankful that it ended up like this. He's not a selfish lover when it comes to sex so I'm always left sleepy and satisfied except for the times that he's more rough, rough is putting it lightly so I guess I should say when he's more violent.

I hate thinking about those nights and I refuse to let those dark thoughts cloud this physical euphoric feeling I have but I can't help but worry about what he might actually be going out to do.

Would having a drink with the guys really make him want to leave his naked and freshly fucked wife alone in his bed? I just don't get it. If he's already been with me tonight could there be a possibility that he would wake up in another woman's bed and leave me waking up alone again tomorrow?

There's no use worrying about it though. It's not like it hasn't happened before, but why do I always let it get to me? Yes he's my husband but our marriage isn't like other ones in anyway shape or form. I'm here when he wants or needs me and that's it. I'm not allowed to want or need him because I'm just left disappointed every single time.

He doesn't love me, he just loves what I can give him and I need to come to terms with that. But it's nights like these where he's gentle and whispers sweet nothings in my ear that make me second guess things.

Maybe he's changed? Maybe he's realized what actually matters? And maybe I'm just getting my hopes up. I can't keep lying to myself but I don't know what else to do. I feel alone most days but these little glimmers of hope are what keep me holding on and unfortunately that's all I have left.

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quoththemaiden · 2 months

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The final chapter of @mrghostrat's Big Name Feelings Good Omens AU is dropping tomorrow, so obviously there was no way I could resist writing another fanscene. (Previous scene 1, 2, 3) Inspired by the sheer domesticity of chapters 15 and 16, enjoy this end-of-series scene.

—

Crowley's key fumbled against the lock — still Aziraphale's lock, technically, but very firmly Crowley's key. "Dinner was good, though?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes a little at how much more attention his face was getting than the keyhole. Sherlock Holmes might have blamed the wine they shared at dinner for the scratches around the lock, but Aziraphale knew better. "It was delicious, of course. You should know; you were there."

"Nnyeah, well, it's your opinion I care about." As if that weren't obvious from Crowley having gotten them a table at one of the city's best restaurants on Valentine's Day and insisting on not even letting him see the bill.

As if Aziraphale was ever any good at hiding his appreciation of good food.

"Quite sure," Aziraphale replied with a gentle touch on Crowley's arm that swiftly turned into snagging the key from him to open the door himself. Crowley let out a huffy laugh as he followed him inside. "Tea?"

"Sure, if that goes with whatever we're doing next." Crowley had been trying to wheedle Aziraphale's planned gift out of him for the past two weeks, and Aziraphale had remained utterly firm in not sharing it with him. Crowley insisted that whatever Aziraphale planned would be alright with him so there was no reason for Aziraphale to be shy about it, and Aziraphale had said "I know, dearest," and somehow that's as far as Crowley's attempts at learning Aziraphale's plans ever got.

Aziraphale fussed around with the tea and put on some music — old-fashioned stuff on actual CDs, the sap — and Crowley was left to lean against the doorjamb watching him and coming to terms with being so terribly, completely besotted that their evening plans could be "absolutely nothing" and Crowley wouldn't love it a single speck less. Aziraphale had said that he'd always thought of Valentine's Day as just another day, and that he'd certainly never considered that he might be able to celebrate it publicly, so Crowley was already delighted at having coaxed him out to dinner. Crowley found himself very suddenly aware that if Aziraphale's supposed plans amounted to nothing at all, he honestly wouldn't mind. His fifteen-year-old self would eat him alive if he knew, and Crowley felt warm inside to know that that was his younger self's loss.

Crowley blinked out of his reverie in time to help Aziraphale carry the teacups into the living room, and was almost surprised when Aziraphale brought a bag in with him as he followed. "Whazzat?"

"Painting supplies, dear." Aziraphale set the bag down on the coffee table.

Another point in favor of another evening spent doing nothing unusual. Crowley relaxed back into the couch, wondering if his melting heart could leave stains on the fabric. "What're you gonna paint?"

"You!" Par for the course again, then. Aziraphale gave a happy wriggle. "I hope you aren't ticklish!"

Wait, what?

"Uh?" Crowley picked up one of the paints Aziraphale was setting out and found that the label said, quite clearly, "body safe." "Angel?"

Aziraphale looked at him with a smile that said he was still 100% confident in his plan despite Crowley's confusion. "I thought it might be a nice reminder of the con. Getting an airbrush and making stencils didn't seem sensible, really, but I know how to use a brush well enough."

Crowley let out a breathy laugh. "'Well enough' 's an understatement. Geez, now MY gift feels—"

"—completely, perfectly tailored to me," Aziraphale cut in. "I would have been actually cross if you'd insisted on getting me another sword." Crowley laughed again, and it warmed Aziraphale's heart that he'd seemed to do nothing but laugh all night. Aziraphale patted Crowley's hand before picking up his tea, taking an appreciative sip and willing it to calm the excited fluttering in his chest. "What do you think? Another serpent on your cheek? I was thinking a tree would look rather lovely spread across your spine and shoulder blades..."

Crowley shivered a little at that, easily able to picture Aziraphale straddling his hips as he lay on the bed, Aziraphale's left palm spread flat on his back to keep himself steady with the rise and falls of Crowley's breath, his paintbrush tenderly tracing a line along his spine...

"Snake first," he agreed quickly. "And then..." He looked down on Aziraphale's arms and swallowed. "Think you could paint on your own arm? I could help hold things steady for you."

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed, and Crowley's heart clenched in the best of ways. He had no idea how Aziraphale always managed to say that like he was falling in love all over again, time and time again, but he did.

No, that wasn't quite right. Crowley probably did know. He suspected it came from the same place as the way he'd looked at Aziraphale as he helped him out of the car today. Aziraphale had taken his arm without hesitation and looked up at him with a warmer smile than any mortal had ever earned, and Crowley had been certain he was wearing his own heart on his sleeve, his vest, and every other garment he owned.

He adored him, and somehow, ineffably, it was the smallest moments that made it stand out the most.

"...right," Aziraphale managed to say around the happy tightness in his throat. "Some art for the both of us, then."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #absolutely amazing fic bilvy #you should be proud!!

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rehfan · 2 months

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La Belle Dame avec Merci

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; SLOW BURN; Eddie & Reader are both over 18; fake dating/relationship; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

1.8K words of Chapter 1 below (no smut yet - this is a SLOW BURN) — more chapters to come! AO3 link

Tumblr Masterlist Link

Eddie Munson was on your radar about as much as any other guy in school. That is to say, boys were people to avoid on the whole; whether because they were just cruel to you, or users trying to get you in bed, and therefore people to pointedly stay away from or - if it ever would happen - a dreamy-eyed boy were to come along and finally be kind, the fact remained the same: boys were an inconvenience at best, a source of torture at worst. Keeping your head down was the rule for every day. None of them wouldn’t have anything to do with you anyway, but some would actively jump out of the way in the halls all the while thinking themselves clever and funny by quoting Monty Python: “She’s a witch! A witch! She turned me into a newt! I got better…” An act somehow always followed by a cackle from their clique.

Of course, Eddie himself wasn’t one of these. He mainly kept out of your way, even though you shared a biology class together. You knew him enough to hand him a pen or pencil if he asked you for one in desperation, but otherwise, he kept to the theater club and his D&D group, Hellfire, and gave you a wide berth.

So it was a surprise to you when you received notice from the librarian that Eddie asked for a tutor in history. Ms. O’Donnell was a challenging teacher, no doubt, but you were one of her favorites and were currently in her AP History class. Eddie was in American 20th Century history and while it wasn’t your favorite part of history, you could still help him get by. You thanked the librarian and went looking for Eddie.

It didn’t take you long. The librarian simply pointed behind you. He was at one of the smaller tables in the middle of the space, doodling in a notebook. His leg was pumping a mile a minute and he looked bored. It must be his free period, you thought. You sat opposite him without asking and he looked up surprised.

“So when would you like to get started?” you asked, unpacking a datebook and pen from your purse.

“What?” He was genuinely thrown off guard, but soon regained his composure. This was some kind of trick. Had to be. He searched the room and discovered the table behind you was loaded with jocks and party kids. They weren’t looking at either you or him, but something still smelled off. He narrowed his eyes at you and waited.

“For your tutoring. 20th Century History? Ms. O’Donnell’s class? The thing you asked to be tutored in?” You clicked your pen. “When are you free?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, utterly confused. You had never spoken to him for any length of time before but there was something about the sound of his voice you found fascinating. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear. Even if it was him turning you down for your academic services. “I never asked to be tutored,” he said, insulted. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll make it through her class all on my own, sweetheart, m’kay?” He tilted his head and gave you a smart-ass grin.

“Well then why did the librarian give me your name? And why did she say that you wanted to be tutored?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said, leaning forward, that grin still painted on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to set you up with the only guy in school who isn’t terrified of you.” This was not true. You did terrify him. Deeply. Your piercing eyes. Your pretty hair. Not to mention your rather distracting body. You were a fucking masterpiece and totally untouchable. The Impenetrable Ice Queen. The Queen who was now talking to him, the lowly bard. What was happening here? Doubling down on his declaration, Eddie leaned in even further and whispered: “I can be scary too, you know.”

Your spine stiffened. That was a shot across your bow you weren’t expecting. “I don’t understand. The librarian always keeps track of who the tutors are assigned to. If you didn’t put your name in for tutoring-“

Just then a group of kids behind you laughed. “Hey Munson! The Ice Queen? You getting desperate? Want to take your chances with the frigid bitch of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah man, hope you like cold fish!”

“And cold showers!”

You didn’t even want to turn around. From the look on Eddie’s face, you knew that it was the same group of people that hated him too - that is to say, almost anyone else in the school.

You closed your eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Jocks or preps?” you asked him.

“Looks like a mix of both,” he answered you and raised his middle finger at them all. Because fuck them, that’s why. He wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they were also insulting you and face punching after someone insults a lady is expected, no? The knight errant in him was itching for battle.

“The freak found the geek!” one of them called.

“Shh! Quiet in the library or all of you can leave!” said the librarian. She stayed long enough to watch the big group behind you duck their heads and pretend to study their books. Satisfied that everything was over, she went into her office to answer the phone.

As soon as she was gone, it started back up again, just quieter.

“Hey Munson, be sure your dick doesn’t freeze and snap off inside her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably cut it off as soon as he pulls it out of his pants.”

“And hey, Ice Queen, watch out Munson doesn’t have anything catching.”

“Yeah. God knows what that freak carries.”

”Probably what the green monkey had.”

“It’s so nice to know they care,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. As you kept your gaze in Eddie’s direction, you saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You commended him for keeping his temper, if only barely.

In that moment, as Eddie was steaming and you were trying to let their words pass over you, you came to an important realization: you and Eddie were in the same boat socially. It was also then that you realized that Eddie might be the answer to your prayers. In fact, out of all the guys in Hawkins, out of every single male soul, he was likely to be the one person that you could co-conspire with - if he were up for it, that is.

And if you were honest, there was something fundamentally attractive about the metalhead. You enjoyed how he held court in the cafeteria from time to time. It took bold resolve to speak his truth to the entire school. And there was something about his eyes. The intensity behind them was magnetic. You didn’t need much more thought.

You leaned in, resting your elbows on the table. “How game are you?”

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of his murderous plotting.

You slowed your speech to match the speed of his brain: “How. Game. Are. You? Will you play along with me?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see where this was going, but it was better than being carted off to jail by Hopper on a battery charge. He was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. He allowed his curiosity to override his anger. “A little improv, sweetheart? Heh. What do you have in mind?” He honestly didn’t know what to expect from you at this point, but he was seriously intrigued. The Ice Queen wanted to conspire with him. He was flattered.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, “and let’s blow all their tiny minds.”

Slowly you rose from your seat. Your skirt was long, almost to your ankles, but had a slit that ran to just above your left knee. You came around the table and lifted and parted the skirt, swinging your left leg clean over Eddie’s legs and settled yourself in his lap. Automatically, his hands were on your hips, sliding down to stop on your thighs, warm and firm. Eddie looked shocked for about three milliseconds, and it was a good thing he had recovered; if he were too shocked, you didn’t think it would sell the way you wanted it to.

Taking his face in your hands, you turned your head to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, another to his temple, and yet another to the side of his head near his ear. You were testing his waters. You could feel him tremble slightly, but he was holding fast. Good for him. “Follow my lead,” you whispered gently. Then you pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s brain shut off.

He responded to you much more respectfully than you expected; he kept his tongue to himself. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having you so close and pressed against him. All it would take would be you grinding your hips against his and he wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without a book in front of his crotch.

The whispered “What the hell-?” from behind you was completely worth the risk of trusting the honor of Eddie Munson. The sound of the rest of them whispering to one another in amusement, fascination, and shock was also satisfying.

The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds or so when the bell rang and everyone gathered their things. You got up. As you gathered your datebook, you smiled at him. “See you in biology, lover.”

There was an extra swing in your hips as you left the library. You could feel Eddie’s stare and knew that his dumb grin was on his face.

You were wrong, however. Eddie was too in shock to react. Too overwhelmed by your energy just now. He stared in confused longing, swallowing hard, knowing he could never really have you and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do now that he knew what kissing you felt like. What having you in his lap felt like.

With that kiss, you knew that the Hawkins High rumor mill was going to spin so fast, it might set the school on fire. That much, you could have predicted. What you didn’t expect was how hot and bothered it had left you. The warmth of him you had expected. Even the plush feel of his lips was a foregone conclusion. But the feel of him - him beneath you and in front of you, his hands on you, his scent spinning around your brain. That was overwhelming. This was either the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst. Unfortunately, only Eddie Munson could define that for you.

**************

CHAPTER 2 is now posted to AO3 and TUMBLR

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

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ro-is-struggling · 1 year

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Hey! Congratulations on 600 😊

May I request song prompt 12 with Eddie Munson? Something angsty, totally up to you if you’d like it to end that way or fluffy

Thanks!

Hi beautiful! Thank you so much for participating and I'm sorry you had to wait so long for your fic! I really liked writing this one, I was super inspired and wrote it in like one sitting which is unusual for me. I hope you like it💜💜💜

Four A.M || Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie can't sleep without you in his bed

Warnings: angst with happy ending, suggestive tones, friends with benefits, Eddie being insecure (he thinks he's a loser)

English is not my first language

Word count: 1700

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

Eddie rolled over in bed for what felt like the thousandth time, watching the ceiling of his room light up with the passing cars outside. The sound of the clock on his nightstand was taunting him, laughing in his face with every passing second.

4 A.M.

It was four in the morning and he was still unable to sleep, tossing and turning as he tried to distract himself from the problem that afflicted him: you. More precisely the absence of your body on his bed.

He hated that he had gotten used to having you next to him at night. When he accepted your offer to be friends with benefits he never thought he would end up like this, awake at night missing the smell of your perfume or the warmth of your body. It was supposed to be just sex. Sex without feelings between two friends who trusted each other completely. He wasn't supposed to miss your touch or the sound of your breathing while you slept. But he couldn't help it, you were different from all the other girls he'd been with. You made him feel things. And he had been such an idiot to let you go.

He knew you were with him now, the guy you'd ended your arrangement for. Eddie didn't even remember his name, but he hated him anyway. You had left the apartment all dressed up and smelling of perfume, wearing that tight dress Eddie loved so much —it hugged your curves perfectly, leaving little to the imagination. Your red tinted lips left a mark on his cheek as you said goodbye to him before disappearing behind the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Eddie knew that you were probably lying in that guy's bed, caressing his body, moaning his name. It made him sick, he should be the one in your arms, touching your body as only he knew how, taking his time to appreciate your curves as he brought you to orgasm. It was his name that should be coming from your lips like a prayer, screaming it louder and louder until the neighbors complained. He was the one who should be making you feel good.

He wondered if that guy could feel his caresses on your skin, if he could somehow tell that you belonged to someone else. Even if you really liked this new guy, Eddie knew that your body belonged to him. No one knew you like he did. No one knew what buttons to push to make you melt under his touch like he did. You were meant to be together, he knew that now and he wondered if your new boyfriend felt it too.

After a couple more minutes of tossing and turning, Eddie gave up, it was clear that he wouldn't sleep tonight —at least not until you got home. So letting out a frustrated sigh, he got out of bed. The sound of his bare feet walking down the hallway echoed through the empty apartment, reminding him once again that you weren't there. He went to the kitchen with the intention of pouring himself a glass of water, but by the time he got to the fridge he was feeling so miserable he thought a beer would be better. Maybe if he drank enough he could pass out from drunkenness and finally forget about you for a couple of hours.

He settled down on the couch in the living room, turning on the television in search of something to distract him. He knew he wasn't going to find much at that hour-just commercials and reruns-but the sound in the background kept him company. He didn't bother to turn on the light, not even the small lamp resting on the end table next to the sofa, he felt comfortable in the shadows, it helped him hide his sadness.

He sipped his beer slowly and quietly, enjoying the darkness while his mind was lost in his thoughts of sorrow and regret. He should have said something to you when you asked him to break things off. He should have confessed to you then that the thought of another man stroking your hair made his blood boil. He should have had the courage to tell you that he loved you and that there was no other person he wanted to share his life with. He had repressed his true feelings for you for too long and now it was too late to do anything about it.

Eddie knew he was a failure and that you deserved someone infinitely better than him. You were the most wonderful, intelligent girl he had ever met, full of determination and confidence, with a bright future ahead of you. And he... he was an idiot with dreams of making it big with a band he'd had since high school. An idiot who went from unstable job to unstable job because he wasn't able to keep one for more than a couple of months. He would probably be lost if it wasn't for you. You kept him together in every aspect of his life and he loved you for that, but it was also the reason he knew you two couldn't be together. You deserved better.

He kept repeating that to himself as he finished his beer, hoping to convince his brain that letting you go had been a good idea. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do it. He loved you, he missed you. He couldn't sleep alone in his bed knowing you were resting in another man's arms. It was probably selfish, but he wanted you for himself.

"Why are you still awake?" your voice brought him out of his thoughts. He had been so focused on his misery that he didn't hear the sound of the keys or the door closing behind you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked you without even turning to look at you. He couldn't do that, not when he knew another man's hands had touched your body. It hurt too much.

"I asked you first." You tossed your bag onto the couch, kicking your heels off your feet before sitting down next to your friend. He was staring blankly, focused on the ashtray resting on the coffee table as if it were the most interesting object in the house.

"I couldn't sleep," he finally replied, raising the glass bottle of beer to his lips and taking what was left in one gulp. "Your turn."

"I..." you mumbled, unsure of what you were about to say. "I ended things with Scott. It just wasn't working."

"How? You seemed pretty happy when you left." You shrugged, though it didn't matter because Eddie still wasn't looking at you. His eyes were now focused on the television, admiring a Coke commercial as if it was the first time he'd ever seen it.

You remained silent for a moment, contemplating your response. You knew very well why you had ended things with Scott, but you didn't know if telling Eddie the truth was a good idea. Scott was a great guy, he was funny, he was smart, he respected you and your times... but he wasn't who you really wanted. You tried to convince yourself, to force yourself to love him the way he loved you, but it was impossible. Your heart belonged to someone else and you felt bad lying to Scott like that, he didn't deserve it.

"He's not you, Eddie."

That seemed to get his attention. His gaze left the television to settle on your face for the first time since you walked through the apartment door. It was hard to make out on his face dimly lit by the television glow, any expression that would give you an idea of what he was thinking, something that only added to your nerves. However, you could have sworn you noticed a sparkle of hope in his eyes. It was quick, a blink and it was gone, but you were pretty sure you had seen it. Although it could very well have been part of your imagination.

“What are you trying to say?” Eddie had some idea of what you were referring to, but he needed to be sure. He needed to know for sure that you wanted to be with him, that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you. He needed to be sure that you didn't just miss the physical and passionate nature of your former arrangement.

"That I love you," you confessed, fiddling with the hem of your dress. "And that I want to be with you... for real this time."

Eddie didn't respond to you with words, unable to put into a coherent sentence how happy and relieved he was to hear you say that —he wasn't the only idiot who had caught feelings after all. Instead, he took it upon himself to close the distance between the two of you, bringing your lips together in a slow but desperate kiss.

It wasn't the first time you had kissed —you knew each other's bodies by heart at this point—, but this time it felt different. There was no doubt or hesitation in the way your lips moved, no fear of revealing too much. You had nothing to hide, so you allowed yourselves to get lost in the moment, enjoying every caress, every touch, using your lips to communicate how deep your feelings were.

Eddie's hands cupped your cheeks and you followed them, placing your hands on his in an act of desperation to feel him as close to you as you could. You didn't want the moment to end, you wanted to feel him against your lips for the rest of your life, to have his fingers caress the skin of your cheeks until you could no longer feel them. You had denied your love for him for so long and now you had to make up for lost time.

But despite your protests, Eddie pulled away from you to catch his breath. You missed his lips the moment they stopped making contact with yours, but to make up for the loss you rested your forehead against his, maintaining close proximity as you gazed into his eyes.

“I love you too.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #ro's 600 followers celebration

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aliahm · 9 months

Text

What Matters

Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

(This drabble is inspired by an exchange I had with the lovely @fandomohana ♥️♥️).

Summary: Crowley is turning the house upside down searching for his watch, and you notice something surprising about his strategy while he looks.

Warnings: One mention of a break in that didn’t actually happen.

The third of the three pictures above belongs to me. The other two pictures were found here on tumblr. Credit for them goes to each of the owners. Both of the dividers used in this post are by firefly graphics, here on tumblr.

If I’ve left out any content warnings, or if I’ve made any mistakes writing for a gender neutral reader, please let me know.

“Where in heaven-”

Crowley stopped himself mid-sentence and rolled his eyes, as he tore apart yet another room of the house in his search for his watch. Papers were sent flying off tables, couch cushions found themselves slumped against the opposite wall, and at one point an unidentified shattering noise could be heard.

A few minutes later you stepped through the door and your heart nearly stopped. The place was in shambles. Had someone broken in? Your fears were put to rest almost instantly though. From the bedroom down the hallway came two sounds: a mysterious thud, and the familiar, frustrated growl of your short-tempered demon.

“Crowley, what are you looking for?” you asked him, stepping through the bedroom doorway.

“At this point it doesn’t even matter.” he replied, slamming one of the nightstand drawers closed. “Apparently the bloody thing’s just gone and un-existed!”

You wanted to help him, you really did, but you had to take a moment after hearing that.

“Un-existed?”

Crowley stomped over to the dressing table against the wall, and an alarm went off in your head. The things on that table were yours, and at the rate Crowley was going, he was about to set them all on fire.

“Wait, wait, Crowley hold on-” you rushed out, but before you could say anything else, he simply glanced down at all your familiar items on the tabletop, then stepped away without touching any of them. It was as if he was just strolling past a grocery store aisle that didn’t include anything on his list.

As if that wasn’t already absurd enough, he immediately went back to his manic search/demolition of the room once he was away from the table. You made your way over to said table slowly and carefully (trying your best to avoid the- everything- that was now strewn across the floor).

Your eyes scanned it, then flickered to Crowley, whose back was to you, then back to the dressing table, then back to Crowley.

What on earth had just happened?

“Finally!” you heard the demon yell, picking up his no-longer-missing watch from who-knows-where.

You stepped towards him, about to ask exactly where it had been, but you accidentally knocked one of your rings off the table in the process, and you gasped, realizing what had happened, but not having time to do anything about it.

Fortunately, Crowley, who seemingly hadn’t seen this happen, somehow had the little silver snake resting in his palm before you could react. He gently took your hand and slipped the jewelery onto your finger, and you smiled widely, half out of gratitude and half out of shock.

“That’s pretty.” he commented, securing his watch back around his wrist.

“Thank you,” you told him, “for doing that”.

He smiled at you, then he leaned over and gave you a kiss.

“Okay, I have to know,” you began.

“It was a simple miracle, darling.” he answered, without giving it a second thought.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Of course it was, but no, not that. I mean, why did you tear apart everywhere except the dressing table?”

“Cause that’s where your things are.” Crowley replied, as if it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Well, yeah, but you threw around everything else”.

“Exactly”.

“I’m not following your logic here.” you told him, and all he said was:

“What’s important to you is important to me”.

Your smile somehow grew even wider at that, and you moved closer to him, kissing the snake tattoo on the side of his face.

“You’re more important to me than everything in here”.

#good omens crowley x reader #good omens crowley fanfiction #crowley x reader #anthony crowley x reader #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley good omens fic #good omens fluff #good omens fanfiction #good omens crowley x reader fluff #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader fluff

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97keanu · 4 months

Note

Please can you write something to do with young John and the ballerina kinda like a continuation for the smoking fic

Ah yes, the infamous shotgunning the cigarette fic… I have gotten a lot of requests for that one, and have tried a few times now to actually sit down and write for it, but haven’t had any luck in producing something that I thought was worthy of posting. I have been working on a bigger project for my writing, but seeing this ask today inspired me to finally come up with something to further this idea. I will link the original fic here as well if anyone would like to read that one first, but you don’t need to in order to read this one! Thank you for sending this ask in today, and believing in my writing enough to want to read more, it means the world to me <3

Premise: It’s been days since you last saw Jardani, and all you’re left with is the taste of his lips on yours, and the smoke of his cigarette in your lungs. That and the memories you two made together here in this place of shadows and secrets. You reflect tonight as you lean out your window of your room, a cigarette loose in your hand.

Tags/CW: young!john wick, ballerina!reader, smoking, yearning, love that blossoms where it should not grow, aching, melancholy, a unspoken connection, drabble 1.1k words.

It doesn’t taste the same, not without his softness breathing the smoke into your lungs, breathing life into your body that aches for more than this. The want inside you doesn’t burn anymore, not when he’s gone. It smolders.

You feel like a fire that was left out in the cold too long with no one to stoke it, and he’s only been gone a week. You knew that when you and Jardani shared that moment, you may never see him again. That he was on his way to getting out of this place, that he had become what The Director always wanted from him. A weapon. A tool. A dog that bites on command.

He would make her a lot of money, this much you knew.

Still, you sit against the window sill of your little crummy room, the walls here having seen more girls than you can imagine in it’s time, seeing them come here innocent, then turned into cold blooded killers like a stone overworked until smooth. The smoke from your cigarette thinly rises to the sky, the cold still chilling you to the bone, no one here to share that experience with. You remember when you first came here, first begun your trek into this underground world, ferried here as some forgotten child on the street. You met Jardani soon after, his stay having started when he was much younger than you, you were somehow lucky to begin your training at fifteen in comparison. Now, at eighteen, you wonder what your life could have been like without all this, without him…

Back then, everyone seemed like an enemy. You couldn’t trust any of the other ballerinas, they would take your spot as soon as you gave them the chance. When you were assigned to a new ballet The Director was producing, you wondered who your ballet partner would be this time. When a tall, lanky boy walked in, ordered to practice with you, you had no idea what to think of him at first.

He walked with poise, but his eyes didn’t seem to meet anyone’s. That was until, they met yours. You couldn’t help your heart thumping at that contact, of the thought of actually being seen after hiding yourself away for so long, trying not to give too much attention to anyone in fear that they would give too much attention to you. And yet, here he was, looking at you, really looking, observing you with those puppy dog eyes of his. Later you would realize those eyes had grown into that of a wolf, primed and ready to strike in a moments notice, but for now, he was still young, still figuring it all out.

He had figured out one thing then, which was that he didn’t wish to dance with anyone else after you.

When you two moved together, it was as if you anticipated each others next movements. You felt light as a the brush of cold snow on warm cheeks, barely there at all in his arms. Neither of you knew what that really meant back then, you didn’t ever really even speak to each other.

No, Jardani was the silent type, he always was. And you didn’t try to crack that shell of his, not by poking and prodding him with questions the way the other ballerinas may have tried. Everyone knew Jardani was one of the most skilled here, they wanted to know him better, wanted to know their competition. But you were never competing with him, you let him guide you when and where he wanted on his own terms, and he gave you the same. An alliance without a word said about it. It was as easy as breathing.

Soon enough, a year or two had passed that way, The Director obviously knowing that you two were made to be together on stage, and allowing you to mostly work together there. What you thought she didn’t know about, was when you left the small warmth of your room at night, traveling down the icy fire escape to the boy with sharp eyes waiting for you down below. You wonder now if that was why she sent him away. Was his work getting sloppy from thoughts of you filling his head? No, you could never kid yourself into thinking that, you never wanted to think about how he felt about you, it was safer to not think of what you had at all as being anything more than what it was.

An escape.

And escape you did. Into dark alleys where you said little, but shared the taste of each other’s breath. Finding something warm to cling to that just felt natural, easy, real.

Jardani never needed to tell you how he felt, his hands and eyes showed you, his lips caressed you, his teeth have tasted your flesh and you thought perhaps he may never let go. Now you wonder if he wanted to release you from between his teeth, and there is no way to find the answer in his eyes.

You take a long drag from your cigarette for a moment, holding it in, nowhere to alleviate this heaviness in your chest, not even when it billows out from your chest into the dark sky above.

God, would you ever even see him again?

Your stomach churned at the thought that maybe it wasn’t enough. All that training, all those years of pain and misery for nothing, for Jardani to walk out into that big world out there and get himself killed on his first mission…

You know that some of the others come back often, to talk with The Director about new work, but you also know that there are empty rooms that haven’t been filled since their owners went off for their first taste of blood, never to return.

“Please,” you whisper into the night air, the wind stealing your voice. “Let me see him again, I don’t care how, I don’t care when, but let me see him again…”

You feel as if you’re emptying your heart and soul into a cold, uncaring abyss that makes no promises. And yet, it helps ease the tension in your knuckles as you grip the window sill.

You sleep tonight wondering if he can feel your heart ache a million miles away.

Taglist: @emacarrigton @sunnythebunny7 @worldsgreatestsinner @discoscoob @nwheregirl @slutforsoliderboy @sebastianstanisahotmf @iovesia @brooxie3 @generalkenobee @desolatewrath

Feel free to ask to be added/removed from taglist!

#john wick x reader #young!john wick #john wick x f!reader #john wick fanfic #jardani jovonovich #my writing #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ!#ask lila

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drea-ms · 4 months

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UNSPOKEN WORDS AND THEIR LETTERS (i love you.)

げとうすぐる. Communication wasn't the best thing for you, but for the ones you love and cared for? You'd write and talk about for hours, maybe years

warnings. ANGST!!! erm suicide mentions. plot twist 😨. haibara isnt dead. shitty communication skills between sugu n yn. long. not proofread. inspired by somethin stupid by frank sinatra. grammar mistakes. a lot of stuff goes down. it will probably will next chapter too..... dunno what to add here.... also if you want listen to somethin stupid by frank sinatra!!!

back. masterlist. next.

You left him a voicemail that day, Words slurred, sore throat, the worst he's ever heard from you. Geto Suguru hates how too late it was for him and you.

Maybe this was the gods way of giving him karma.

He turns in his phone, goes to his voice mailbox.

"You have one message. To listen to this message press one. To delete this message press tw—"

"Um—Hey. I-I know now's not the best time to call you, you're probably busy and still mad at me. I don't understand why though. Why are you mad at me? Why is it that you have to find a way to blame me to make yourself feel better?" you paused, swallowing the pain that lies within your throat, he hates how he knows what you're feeling right now.

You sniffed and coughed before continuing, "Um—I'm sorry, for everything really. Now that I look back at everything, it was stupid of us to argue, I guess some people realize stuff really late, I really hope you listen to this message Sugu." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why is he feeling tears coming from his eyes, why does that nickname harm him a lot? Why do you have this effect on him?

You laugh with tears falling from your eyes, and Suguru wishes he was there to wipe them away. "Even if you don't, even if you don't ever see this message, I'm just glad I recorded it" you smiled, has the sunset ever looked as beautiful as it did right now? Do you think Suguru is watching the same sunset as you? You continue, "Hey, You remember when Satoru, dragged us out in the rain? we got all wet and later got sick. I think we were in our second year. Shoko got mad at us after and had to take care of us, Do you—" you choke up on your words before steadily repeat yourself, "Do you think, that whenever I look tired one day, will you drag me out to jump in the rain again?" The voicemail finished. The automatic voice came up,

"To hear this message again, press three, to save it press four, to delet—" he presses four, now crying his eyes out in the middle of his room. Geto Suguru truly was an idiot. It was finally night time.

When the news of the beloved [lastname] [firstname] was pronounced dead was a shock to everyone. What truly was more shocking was the fact that she left letters to everyone, one each, two to Geto Suguru. Each letter contained the same thing, to have fun, to not blame themselves and to live their best life. Why was his so different than the others? Why did he get two instead of one?

He knows the reason why, he just want to hear it from you.

The first letter read;

My dearest, Suguru,

I'm not good with writing my own feelings down, so writing this is already hard as it is. But, when you do get this letter, it means that something happened to me, or maybe I just never gave it to you and hid it or threw it away. Only time will tell.

Anyways, back to the reason I'm writing this letter. I don't think I've had enough time to tell you about my feelings. In the short time I have met you, I think I've fallen in love with you. Not in a just a crush type of way, in a way were if one were to ask me to write something about you they would get paragraph after paragraph of how I feel about you. Did you know that I would sketch you whenever I'm bored? I would draw you and somehow put you in any of my paintings, you remind me of so many things, yet i couldn't find the perfect time to finish painting you.

I think I've always loved you, I'm not sure when those feelings started, but, I knew from the way i tried to make myself more likeable to you. I would always practice every to find some clever lines to make the meaning come true, though i would always mess it up. I wanted to know whether you liked me too. And I think on that night, the one where we snuck out and headed to the bridge was the right time, your cologne (the one that smelt like mint & citrus and your cigarette smell) filled my head, I thought the stars went red and the night turned bluer than usable. I was confident to tell you my feelings, but I thought I would spoil the moment by saying something stupid like "I love you."

maybe we our communication skills aren't the best,

maybe we'll find each other in another life.

I love you.

[nickname]

I love you.

she loves me.

she loved me.

Geto suguru remembers that night, the almost confession and how you looked. He thought you looked wonderful, a painting yet to be painted due to the amount time and work it would've taken. He also remembered that there was music playing, you've always like oldies, something about them maybe you like them. Maybe you're right, maybe the lack in communication skills was bad for the both of you.

So Suguru, ever so the stoic one, breaks in your room, with the extra key you gave him and sleeps in your bed for the first time in days.

"How long do you intend on hiding her, Yu?"A blonde, tall guy asked, "I, I don't know what you're taking about Kento-kun. Hiding who?"the shorter male asked, nervously looking anywhere but the blonde, Haibara Yu knew if word were to come out about you, he would be in trouble. "[Name]'s not dead is she? What—" he gets pulled into a empty classroom with the brunette, "Keep quiet, Kento. If word comes out and finds out to the higher ups that the child they been so afraid of is isn't dead, then everybody's gone." he said, whisper yelling at Kento. The blonde, surprised that his senior (the only one he respected really) was still alive, and the only person who was keeping her safe in hiding was the ever so sweet Haibara Yu. Now that Kento thinks about it, Yu is right, If word does come out and your alive and Yu has been hiding you, the higher up will have no chance but to execute the two of you.

"Who else knows of this?" is the only thing that comes out the blondes mouth, worried about who might know,

"Right now? Me and You. Just don't say anything and keeping pretending she's dead, it's better that way." the brunette says, the serious tone in his voice never fading.

The shorter haired boy walked away from the blonde, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Nanami Kento wasn't an idiot, he found the situation a bit werid, he kinda knew about you (you told him minor details.) and he knew who reckless you were, so you doing this was off. He exits the room, heading to his own.

"Do you know how many times I almost slipped the secret??? wayyy to many to count!" Yu says, pouting on his side of the phone call, it was midnight and everyone else was sleeping so he was trying to keep quiet.

"You know Yu, you really didn't have to do all of this." a female voice say, her voice deep and soft, smiling on her side of the call, sure she was in Seoul currently, but the time difference was the same, she knew how much the students needed sleep, she, herself was one too. "I feel greatful that you're helping me, Thank you."she said, looking out at the balcony, the night sky was shining brighter than before,

"It's no problem, [nickname]." he said, looking out by the window, a smile on his face, "You know, He's been acting werid since—" "I know, I think he read the letter, I don't know about the number, haven't gotten a call from him, maybe he didn't read it.""Maybe." he mumbled, a nervous smile on his face,

"Anyways, I have to go Yu. I'll talk to you when I can," you said, hanging up after saying your goodbyes.

Maybe, this was what you needed, Maybe not. Who cares. At least your dead.

VAL SPEAKS ?!!?? dawg this was supposed to be ready by last week and my tumblr was kicking me in the ASSSSS bro i couldn't move shit n all, but!!!! i finished it, and i'm almost done with the series!!!! can't wait to finish this and do midterms.... sorry it looks shit,,, was on a rush to finish this....

TAGS — @sad-darksoul

tags are open!!!

#🌙 — val writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk angst

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cialovesklopp · 11 months

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𝐏𝐎𝐕 | k. mbappé

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — where advices from close people lead to the final reunion between two lovers who are already destined in the stars to be together

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 7.5k

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 — pov [ariana grande]

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — we've finally made it. after this chapter the revenge era officially begins mixed with a lot of kylian and amara. i can't wait to start writing the next chapter but those will vary sometimes in format and style

taglist: @lorarri @locedes @aechii

masterlist

mama always knew best — amara doesn’t think she had ever heard truer words.

somehow the minute taraji imani had entered the parisian apartment, she sensed the change on her daughter. it started with the apartment where between the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, she also picked up faints of a manly perfume. the hoodie that was thrown over the white couch was her next clue because she instantly remarked that it did not belong to her daughter. she wasn’t saying this in a way of proving she was very controlling but instead the size of the hoodie made it clear that it was not amara’s.

the biggest clue though was her daughter herself. the moment the door had been opened and she had faced amara, she could see that something was different. the last time amara had seen her parents, it had been with tears rolling down her face, dull, swollen eyes from all the crying and forced smiles — a clear contrast to what taraji had been met with now. amara had a soft smile on her face when she had let her mother enter the apartment, no sign of any tear or make-up to, perhaps even cover eye rings or any swelling.

taraji’s eyes travelled over the apartment since it was her first time she had visited her daughter in paris. the apartment itself was beautiful, she had to admit. the beige decor along with the simplistic and modern decor gave the apartment a feel of comfort that spread the minute one stepped in.

“you cannot tell me that you did this yourself,” she exclaimed, a sharp look of scepticism sent into amara’s direction.

“mama, i did this all by myself with some help of liyah and grace when they weren’t busy.” she explained, smiling cheekily.

“well, it looks good. i’m proud of you.” her mother replied, sitting down on the couch. amara took place on the small armchair opposed to her, grabbing her phone, pen and song-notebook. “so tell me now, what have you been planning? the last time we spoke, you told me you had a project going.”

taraji noticed the change even more when a sudden excited expression appeared on her daughter’s face just at the mention of the planned project.

“i am working on some songs. i’m ready to go back into the spotlight again, i had my time and rest but like you said. i need healing from all this. ma ị mara m, usoro ọgwụgwọ m gụnyere ide abụ na hapụ mmetụta m.” — and you know me, my healing process consists of writing songs and release my feelings

“is that why you’re glowing so positively and shining?” her mother exclaimed, eyes sparkling with delight. it warmed her heart to see her daughter so alive and spirited again, remembering the way she had looked like the last time. a walking corpse. now she was spreading life and vividness.

amara tried to hide her smile, managing to chuckle at least. “what exactly are you taking about?” she questioned her mother confusingly.

"elela m anya otú ahụ. enwere m ike ịhụ mgbanwe nke ọma." — don't look at me like that. i can clearly see a change

the laugh that escaped amara’s laugh was enough to prove her mother’s statement. taraji had no idea of the feeling of joy that surged in her heart.

amara waved dismissively. “let’s just say, paris has been good to me and allowed me to make the significant changes that were necessary. and it also gave me inspiration.”

her mother’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. she watched as amara scribbled down in her notebook, face scrunching up in concentration as she wrote down some words. she was also able to see the sparkle that had been lit again — the very thing that had helped her become herself.

“i am just glad that this Phase with evan is over. i never really liked that guy.” she muttered under her breath, her distaste and disgust clear in her voice.

“should’ve listened to you,” she replied nonchalantly, shrugging. “i finally saw his true colours, just sad that it took me nearly two years.”

“weren’t you friends with the new girl he’s dating?”

“kaia gerber?” she inquired, arching an eyebrow. “nope. we met once, at a fashion show and talked but we weren’t friends. i’m happy she’s dating him, maybe two nepo babies will cancel each other out.”

she put her notebook down and stood up, walking towards the kitchen. “i made chocolate cake knowing you love it so much. do want a piece now or later?”

“is it with chocolate pieces?” her mother asked to which amara nodded, “then yes please, a piece would be nice, ada.”

she entered the kitchen, coming out a few minutes later with two pieces of homemade chocolate cake. as she sat down, the vibration of her phone made her look up, especially because it was the one she had programmed to ring when kylian texted her.

just at the thought of him, a smile plastered on her face which did not go unnoticed by taraji. her smile widened even more as she read the french’s strikers message, grinning widely.

“so this is why you’re so happy lately i assume?” her mother inquired, smirking slyly at her daughter.

as if she was caught at a crime scene, amara rapidly put down her phone, staring at her mother. “amaghị m ihe ị na-ekwu” — i do not know what you’re talking about

“ị chere na a mụrụ m ụnyaahụ?” she retorted incredulously at amara’s attempt to lie. “m na-amụkwa ọnụ ọchị otú ahụ n'ihi nna gị” — do you think I was born yesterday? — i used to smile like that because of your father

amara rolled her eyes, still grinning. “i will admit that there is someone but i can guarantee you there is nothing going on between us. we’re taking it slow.”

“taking it slow?” taraji asked, arching an eyebrow.

“yes. mainly because i am not ready to move forward yet with all this drama going around.”

her mother's eyes softened, filled with both empathy and relief. “it is already a step forward that you know your feelings about yourself. but sweetheart, if you like him, go for him. love doesn’t mean marriage directly. you have time, ada to work things out. if he is able to instantly make you smile like that, he must be someone important.”

“i do feel a lot for him but i don’t want to rush into anything. but i like him. a lot. probably the best thing in paris.” she confessed, smiling shyly.

seeing amara like that made taraji’s heart warm. her daughter was truly in love, even a blind man could see that. the shy smiles were all that the nigerian mother needed to realize that her daughter was in deep.

the two had always been close. even though amara had a special bond with her father, created through watching football and formula 1 together, her mother had always stayed her best friend. especially because taraji had been so young when she had had amara. no one knew her better than her mother, was able to read her like her mother. she would always stay her favourite person.

“i am so proud of you. you deserve someone who cherishes you and respects you. who doesn’t put you first but lets you stay there... and i have a feeling this one might be the one for you.” taraji added when she saw amara grin at her phone again.

“i hope he’s the one too.” she muttered, losing herself in her notebook and thoughts as she listened to her mother.

she wasn’t as productive with the impending album as she had hoped with her mother visiting but she was still determined to finish the songs and at least have some work done that she could be proud of at the end of the day.

on the other side, kylian wasn’t any better. while usually his mind was focused clearly on correcting his mistakes from their latest match and getting better, this time all his thoughts circled around amara. stretching his arms, the french striker walked out the changing rooms, rejoining his team mates on the field. he was still smiling when he joined the group of his teammates that were wearing orange tees, his mind still thinking about the conversation he just had with amara. and it didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates.

“oh kylian,” presnel called him, ripping him out of his thoughts. “what’s got you smiling like that?” he questioned his friend, the others all looking at him expectantly.

startled, kylian turned to his teammate, grinning from ear to ear. “nothing. arrête de t’imaginer des choses.” he replied playfully, shrugging off their curiosity. — stop imagining things

“ca fait quand même longtemps qu’on t’a plus vu comme ça.” presnel pressed on the top. he playfully put an arm on kylian’s shoulder, “come on, you can tell tonton presko everything.” — but it’s been some time that we haven’t seen you like this

kylian laughed, shrugging his teammate’s arm off and grabbed a ball, starting with the exercises they were ordered to do.

however he couldn’t escape everyone. he had been able to dodge presnel, marco and hakimi but neymar wouldn’t make it that easy for him. the brazilian star found his opportunity to lead his own interrogation during a pair exercise, where he immediately partnered with kylian. a mischievous sparkle in his eye, he asked his friend, “so… now wanna tell me what made you smile like that?”

“i already told presnel that there —“

he instantly cut him off, raising his eyebrow in scepticism. “cut the bullshit kyky. maybe you can lie to them but you can’t lie to me. so tell me the reason for your constant good mood.”

catching neymar’s gaze, he knew he was right so kylian decided that confiding into one person wouldn’t hurt much. “well, there is someone but we’re only friends.” he confessed, adding the last part quickly when he saw neymar’s smirk.

“just friends?” he inquired.

“yes, for the moment we’re just friends. but even if i wanted something more, i already told her i would wait till she was ready for more.” he revealed in hushed tones. “but don’t you dare tell a soul or i’ll sell you,” kylian threatened him jokingly, referring to the rumour that had been going on where he had apparently had the intention of selling his best friend.

rolling his eyes, he brazilian nr. 10 replied dismissively. “don’t worry about that bro. i got your back. now tell me more and why did you promise her, you’d wait.”

kylian sighed, passing him the ball lightly to at least act as if they were doing some work. “we’ve known each other now for a few months but whenever we go one step forward, she somehow takes three steps back the next time. and i have nothing against waiting but i just want to know where we truly stand. the mixed signals are confusing me.” he revealed, in addition to his confession that her presence was the best thing in those past months.

“is she some kind of virgin and this is her first relationship or what do you mean by steps forward?” neymar asked him after having listened intently.

he shook his hand, a sharp glare sent into his friend’s direction. “she just came from a relationship that, let’s say, did not end so good. in fact, it was terrible and she is still fixing some things but also the fact that she’s very insecure now. it kind of makes all this complicated.”

“in that case, what you need to do is talk to her. how often do you speak or see her?”

“three to four times a week but we text each other nearly everyday except when she’s busy.”

“there you have it. text her and talk to her about it. not that you want to move forward but that you want to know where you stand. but still, you’ll have to give her time and not rush her if you’re saying that she’s still so fragile.” he advised, patting him on the back. “has she already opened up?” kylian nodded, making a grin appear on his friend’s face. “there you have it. she’s ready for a step forward and maybe a relationship with you. just let time do it’s thing.”

keeping neymar’s advice in mind, kylian focused again on training, finishing the exercises they told to do. he was grateful for the advice he had been giving, realizing that pressuring her wouldn’t help either. he would’ve asked her earlier how exactly things stood between them but she had practically refused to see him yesterday, knowing they had come back late from their away match. but he had to see her today.

after finishing his shower and getting dressed, the french striker grabbed his phone, impatient to call her. he changed his mind though, deciding to text her instead of calling as he still wanted to keep amara to himself. he wasn’t ready to share her with his world yet.

𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄:

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍: finished with training can i come over?

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀: yeah pls actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to but forgot

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍: of course how could i forget that amara imani is a busy woman

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀: don’t make me block you anyway i have a surprise for u so you should definitely come

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍: on my way

a wide smile formed on his lips as he read her message. he grabbed his back and bid his friends goodbye, not missing the wink neymar had sent him as he made his way over to amara. the woman that would be the death of him. but if he died, he'd at least die a happy man.

a feeling of deep comfort spread through the room when amara lit some cinnamon candles and placed them on the coffee table in front of her. the talk with her mother felt good, the feeling of having someone who always supported her. words couldn’t describe her luck. she sat down on the couch, enjoying her moment of comfort and peace.

from the kitchen out, she was able to smell the chocolate cake and apple tart she had just baked. the latter had been for kylian who had just come back from an away match and had been a bit displeased and moody at the fact that amara couldn’t come see him. of course he had understood, knowing in which situation the singer found herself in but still he could not get himself to not be a bit disappointed about her lack of presence. text messages and calls could only replace that much. so amara had thought of surprising him with his favorite cake, not knowing that she would be the one to be surprised.

sitting comfortably on the couch, she grabbed her phone, checking for any unread messages or missed calls. she had already finished talking with grace about her upcoming album. truthfully, in the beginning the idea had been to just release some songs but the more time she had spent with kylian the more inspiration she had gotten. in the end, she found herself with enough songs to make a whole album and after a lot of insisting from grace, who had also called liyah as back-up, amara had surrendered and agreed to make an album. now it was just a question of who would be on it and who wouldn’t.

she pulled her legs close while closing the messenger app and opening a book she had recently started. her self-ordered quarantine had given her lots of time and she was bent on using it for things she hadn’t had much time for. next to painting and songwriting, reading was definitely on the list and she planned on making it her hobby again. indulging in the quiet and solitude she was experiencing currently, she made herself comfortable on the couch and rapidly started to read her book from the spot she had stopped the last time.

she had lost track of time when the locks on the door turned and kylian entered the apartment, his sports bag hanging loosely on his shoulder. dressed in a white t-shirt, that practically made his ab lines visible for everyone and a pair of blue loose jeans, amara had difficulties to draw her eyes from his stomach. what stood out most though was the thing he was holding in his right hand, which he had pulled behind his back to hide whatever he had in hand. he put her house keys on the hooks, aligned at the wall before he finally entered the living room, where she was waiting patiently for him.

immediately at the sight of her, his lips formed a curve, the two small dips making their appearance again and filling amara’s stomach with butterflies. “hey ky,” amara greeted him. standing up to hug the french striker, she pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, inhaling the scent she had grown so used to having around her.

“salut ma belle,” he mumbled into her hair, pulling her closer. at the sound of her nickname, feelings of excitement rushed through her, still getting flustered whenever kylian used that name for her. originally, his nickname had firstly been ‘mara’ since her short name didn’t leave much creativity for nicknames but he had once called her ma belle and amara had had a shock reaction, spilling her drink on him. of course this had been so funny to him he had given her the name again and it had stuck much to her dismay. -- hello, my beautiful

“congratulations for the win,” she exclaimed happily. even though she hadn’t been at the match, she had watched it from her couch, cheering loudly when paris scored. “your goal was beautiful. i probably woke the neighbours with my screams.”

he laughed at her confession, knowing exactly what she must have looked like. after all, he had watched a liverpool game once with her and she had probably broken his eardrums whenever the reds had scored. “thanks. it’s a shame that my biggest supporter couldn’t come to see the goals live.”

amara rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. “kylian, i already explained to you why i wasn’t able to come,” she objected, her voice still bright, “but i have a surprise for you.”

she turned, ready to go into the kitchen to get his cake but he grabbed her hand to stop her. looking at him with a confused expression, she watched as kylian held up his hand and then pulled out his right hand from his back, a huge bouquet of flowers appearing in his hand. the rose and white flowers were clearly a contrast to him but amara had never seen anything more beautiful than this.

the confused expression was immediately exchanged, replaced by a soft one and made a smile appear on her face; a genuine one that only happened to come out when kylian was there.

“omg, you didn’t have to,” amara gushed, happiness clear in her face. she happily accepted the bouquet of pink peonies and white lilies, a huge smile spreading on her face when she leaned down and smelled the scent of the flowers. “these are so beautiful.”

“je savais que tu devrais les adorer.” he replied, matching amara’s enthusiasm. just seeing the way she smiled and was genuinely happy was able to put a smile on his face. but he also wondered what her relationship with evan must have truly been like if she was this happy for something that should be self-evident in a relationship. — i knew you’d love them

he probably would never know that this was the first time she had ever received flowers because someone had genuinely meant to get her some. amara always had to force evan to buy her some flowers and even then it had only been on valentines day as he deemed flowers as unnecessary. it was a shock for her that someone thought of her as important to bring her flowers.

she delicately affirmed her grip around the bouquet, her eyes already looking for a spot where she could put the flowers and see them immediately. “where did you even get them?”

he waved dismissively. “i passed a flower shop on the way to you and saw them in the shop window. they reminded me of you so i had to get them.” he admitted, and again amara was glad, her skin colour made it impossible for her to blush.

“why are you so perfect?” she asked rhetorically. grinning at him. “now my surprise is nothing compared to yours.”

“anything you do is perfect in my eyes.” kylian assured her, lovestruck expression clear. “come on, tell me, what did you prepare?”

with a playful glint in her eyes, she grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen. “close your eyes,” she ordered him, excitement clear in her voice. he did as ordered, his face scrunching up when he heard the sound of the refrigerator open and close and metal, whose sound resembles a lot to the one of a knife. “you can open them now.”

kylian’s eyes opened and he was instantly faced by a grinning amara, where kylian feared her face would break soon from all the smiling and a cake in her hand, more specifically a pie and not just any pie. the apple pie he had seen once on tv at her apartment and had told amara, he would die to eat one. immediately, his confused expression changed, joining amara on her happy one.

“you actually made me apple pie?”

she nodded happily, holding out a fork. “i tried my best to make it like the one on tv but i can’t guarantee anything.”

“now it’s my turn to say, you didn’t have to.” he replied, grinning. he took a bite of the cake, his senses exploding when the taste reached his tongue. originally, he hadn’t even liked the cake that much, he had just wanted to eat apple cake at that moment but now whatever he had seen on tv, it would never match hers. screw that, he would never ever eat another apple cake again if it wasn’t hers.

amara shrugged dismissively. “you brought me my favorite wine and flowers and so many other things. consider this as something from me.”

again, kylian felt this unclear signal from her. what did she feel for him? was she ready to take this step forward or would they forever stay in this situation, this fine line between friendship and love. a line so thin, even kylian wasn’t able to differentiate between their friendship and feelings. he recalled his conversation with neymar, knowing that he couldn’t avoid talking to her about his feelings.

“amara, you need to tell me where we stand.” he began. “you know i would wait for the world but i need to know where we stand. this is clearly not a friendship anymore but what exactly are we? where exactly are we moving?”

her heart fell as she listened to kylian. it had never been her intention to make him feel like that, she had thought it was clear that she wasn’t ready but still loved him. and yet, here he stood, asking after a clear statement from her because he was getting confused.

would she tell him to continue to wait? continue to hide behind her fears and insecurities — if anything she should have learned by now that she didn’t have to be afraid of anything with kylian. maybe her mind still had some difficulties at accepting that kylian would not be like Evan but her heart certainly had not.

since that night where they had talked for hours in the bathroom, it was clear that her heart beat for him. that he had somehow broken the shell of grief around it and had replaced it with a coat of fire. his fire, that protected her heart.

truthfully, what was she waiting for, amara asked herself. grace, liyah, even her mother had advised her that men like him only came once in a lifetime. that she shouldn’t string him along. she recalled her mother’s word, “if you like him, go for him. love doesn’t mean marriage directly. you have time, ada.” — she was done hiding behind an invisible wall that had already too many cracks,

she walked slowly towards him, kylian still looking at her with an expectant expression and grabbed his hands slowly, intertwining them which seemed to have taken him by surprise.

“kylian,” amara whispered softly, her voice sounding faintly through the room. her eyes looked through his, losing themselves immediately in his dark brown irises, that could read amara better than herself sometimes. “i’m ready. i wanna take a path forward.” she told him under her breath, the distance between their faces lessening with every word she spoke. “but only if you want me.”

time held still as the two lovers stared into each other’s eyes, losing themselves quickly in them and drawing out their surroundings. all that mattered, was the other. he had waited for this moment, patiently counted the time that she would need to heal. and he had been ready to wait even more after his talk with neymar. but nonetheless, he didn’t need to be asked twice to answer her question.

his hand grabbed her face delicately, one hand on each cheek and he leaned down towards her face, close enough to her amara’s heartbeat quickening. his eyes wandered down from her brown, honey like eyes to her lips, his ears catching amara’s shaky yet composed breath. was he about to make a mistake? maybe. was it all worth it because he finally had the girl he loved? definitely. he knew that the moment, amara had moved her hands to his neck, to crane it and pull it down a bit because of their height difference, he just had to kiss her.

and so he did. his lips briefly hovered over hers before he finally pressed his lips on hers. it was a soft kiss but full of tenderness, love and care that had built up during the growth of their relationship. her mind went blank at the sensations, hundred different thoughts and feelings rushing through her body. whatever she had felt the first time he had kissed her, even though it had only been on the cheek was intensified by ten.

kylian indulged in amara’s scent; the scent of vanilla filled his nose and the taste of cherry chapstick and chocolate drove his mind crazy. it was a hundred times better than all his imaginations he had had of this moment. her lips were soft, pillow-like — perfectly made for his.

“this is better than last time,” amara whispered between their lips, breathing heavily.

“je t’avais promis une expérience inoubliable,” kylian replied, his hot breath sending tingles through her body. — i did promise you an unforgettable experience

amara wrapped her hand around his neck tighter, placing her lips on his again. the amount of happy hormones that rushed through her body, made her close her eyes in satisfaction and adrenaline rushed through her entire body. the gentle kiss soon turned into a kiss full of passion and desire, their feelings of love and care exploding. all the thoughts they had held back, feelings they hadn’t shared were coming out and were added to their kiss.

another set of minutes passed before the two lovers finally detached from each other. both took heavy breaths, still startled from their heavy kissing seance. amara still felt her body vibrating, tingles still rushing through her. and it was the same for kylian, who also hadn’t been left unbothered from the kiss. they looked at each other, sharing a glance before bursting out in giggles.

“this was…” amara began first, trailing off to find a matching word that was worthy enough to describe what had just happened. “amazing. more than that.”

“this was just a foretaste,” kylian retorted, a smirk dancing on his lips, “there’s much more.”

intrigued, she crossed her arms. “really? then tell me, monsieur mbappé, what else is included in your dating package?”

“where do i even begin? let me just say that being with me is like winning the lottery. firstly, we have tons of kisses, whenever you want,” he began, pressing another soft kiss on her lips slyly, “then we have cuddles and guaranteed spooning.” he added, amusement becoming clear on amara’s face. “not to forget the shared clothes. with me, you also get a life supply of hoodies and sweatshirts along with psg tickets to every game—

“i’ll remind you that i’m a proud red,” she cut in, laughing.

“nevermind that, you’ll also get natural attention and unpredictable dating nights. there won’t be a week where you won’t see this beauty of a face. and let’s not forget the free massages and meals that comes with me.” he went on.

she looked at him sceptically. “i do not know if i ever want you in my kitchen again.”

his expression changed to shock as he put a hand on his hand, faking his offence. “i can’t believe you’re still holding me to that after i cooked that delicious meal for you the last time. and that just because i burned pasta and popcorn once.”

she waved dismissively. “you’re saying that as if you didn’t nearly put my kitchen on fire. but what else can i expect?”

“also you’ll be able to profit from this beautiful greek god of a body— and don’t look at me like that, i heard you say this about me on the ph9ne,” he added quickly when he saw amara open her mouth. she closed it quickly, thanking any higher power again that she was blessed with the inability to blush. “but let’s be honest, these abs are a true gift. now you won’t have to be embarrassed again when you’re caught staring at them.”

he watched as she put a hand on her forehead, facepalming, making him immediately laugh.

“but,” he trailed off, holding a finger up. “i haven’t even got to the best part. no boredom. you’ll never get bored with me. tu ne vas même plus connaître le mot l’ennui. we’ll have impromptu dance parties in the kitchen and we can continue our tradition of watching shitty 2000s rom-coms. believe me, it’ll be a blast.” — you won’t even know the word boredom anymore

“you said two,” amara commented, her cheeks starting to hurt from all the smiling. “what’s the other best advantage?”

he walked closer to her, mischievous glint in her eyes. “the last advantage,” kylian began, positioning himself behind amara and putting his arms under hers. “endless tickling.” he stated, launching a sneaky attack of tickles on her sides. he began at her sides, tickling her everywhere on her hips and stomach. she let out a scream, surprised by his sudden attack replacing it quickly with a happy expression.

the air filled with joyous sounds and laughs as amara tried to escape his hands, squirming and shaking. in the end she managed to squirm enough against kylian’s muscular body, making the two lose their balance and fall onto the sofa where amara used the small moment of shock from kylian to escape from his hands.

breathlessly, she turned to look at the french striker. “c'était nécessaire?” she demanded, hand over her chest to calm herself down and slow down her heartbeat. — was this necessary

kylian flashed her a smile, teeth shining brightly. “it’s part of dating me.” he replied cheekily.

“how the heck were you single when we met?” amara asked dumbfounded. “i wish evan would have done half of that for me.”

“let’s never talk of that asshole again, shall we? you’ll get the true experiment of love now. my mother did not raise an idiot when it comes to women.”

she nodded, snuggling closer to him to be able to lean her head on his shoulder. “so… what are we then if we’re talking about the experience of dating you?” amara asked him, as she traced the visible lines of his abs through his shirt.

he shrugged, not truly knowing how to answer her. he didn’t know what exactly she wanted them to be. what did she want to hear? “i don’t know. you know what i want.” he told her, turning to face her. “je veux t’aimer,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on her temple, “i want to call you mine,” another kiss, this time just a bit above her earlobe. “je veux être la personne à qui appartient ton cœur.” a soft giggle escaped her lips as kylian held up their intertwined hands and pressed a delicate kiss on the back of her hand. — i want to love you

amara chuckled, snuggling even closer into his chest. the warmth of his body spread immediately to hers, creating a deeper sense of comfort. “i want the same.” she replied softly, playing with the hem of his shirt with her free hand. “but i’m gonna be truthful and admit that i’m a bit scared,” she confessed, “and i love you and love is about compromise and making efforts to meet the other. we’re in this together. i kept you waiting long enough.”

“you’ll never have to be scared with me. we’re taking one step at the time.” he stated, his gentle voice extending the comfort, “for now, we’re just dating. seeing where the wind takes us going with time. we don’t have to rush, we have all the time of the world.”

she nodded, happy and satisfied with his response. he understood her reluctance and didn’t pressure her, he was happy to go slow despite being clear about his intentions and knowing she was just insecure with the whole dating scene, especially dating another public person.

she detached herself from his embrace, and leaned forward to grab the plate with the chocolate cake she had made. the apple tart had been finished quickly and the two had then taken on the chocolate cake, eating the remains of what was left from her afternoon with her mother. with her free hand, she lifted kylian’s arms again, pulling it over her chest again to feel his warmth. his hand travelled down to her waist, resting there to pull her closer if he needed to.

“i should have made more,” amara muttered under her breath, watching kylian eat the chocolate cake like it would be the last cake of his life. she reached forward, wanting to grab a piece but her hand was swiftly removed by kylian, nudging it lightly to signify her to back up. “hey, i made this cake.”

“but you already had some while i was away. soit gentil,” he stated before taking another bite of the cake.

she pointed her finger at him. faking an expression of anger, “i’ll have you know that you ate a whole apple tart against your nutrition trainer’s introductions. at least cut him some slack and h9ld back for the chocolate. i could use some.”

“if you want it so badly…,” he trailed off at the end of his sentence, taking a small piece and bringing it slowly to her mouth. but seconds before she could finally taste the heaven of chocolate she had baked, he intentionally failed her mouth, leading to her having a small spot of chocolate next to her lip.

“je te jure,” she swore under her breath, grabbing the piece of cake by herself and eating it, not without showering kylian in cold stares and glares. the french striker though had an amused expression on his face, that grew even wider when he saw her sour one. — I swear

“let me remove it,” he said to her, fighting an impending laugh flash. he placed his finger on her cheek to brush away the chocolate he had smeared on her face and then all of sudden leaned forward, stealing a soft kiss which made amara shriek out of shock.

“kylian!” amara exclaimed amusingly, not even needing to look at the star footballer to know that he was grinning. probably like an idiot, amara thought

his grin spread wider, smiling from ear to ear as he shrugged. “couldn’t help it.”

she rolled her eyes, smirking at him. “si tu voulais m’embrasser, t’auras just à me demander.” — if you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask

“amara, may i kiss you?” he retorted exasperatedly, holding onto her hand. she nodded, a cheeky expression appearing on her face and smiled when kylian placed his lips on hers again.

she found it funny the way he was just as addicted as her. once they had gotten a taste of what it felt like to kiss each other, they didn’t want to stop. they wanted to indulge into that feeling of wonder and desire, never let go of it again.

“i could kiss you for hours,” kylian whispered against her lips, making a giggle escape amara’s lips.

“i feel the same but let’s not be the kind of person who only know each other's lips. we’re not gonna be those couples who are constantly making out with each other.”

kylian shrugged, “i mean we could,” he began but shrunk down once he saw amara’s eyebrow raise, “but yeah, on n’est pas comme ça.” — we’re not like that

pleased with his answer, amara placed the dirty dish out of her lap to be able to move into a more comfortable position. she laid her face on his chest, continuing to trace his ab lines as he played with a few of her loose curls that weren’t tied into her ponytail.

it was calm, the only sound being their heart that pumped in a perfect rhythm. amara cherished moments like this, when it was just the two of them with nothing else going on.

“so how’s the music going?” he asked quietly, disrupting the silence around them. amara shrugged dismissively, too focused on the lines that were visible though his white shirt. they should forbid some people to wear those, she thought in her head.

“it’s going well. recorded a few song with grace & hudson but not finished yet. and we’re still looking for some collaboration but, you know, with my reputation could become a bit hard.”

“can’t you just call someone, like i don’t know, travis scott and tell him you want him on your song?” he asked innocently, in an ironic tone.

amara sighed, looking incredulously at him. “can’t you just call a club and tell them you want their player or why do transfers take so long?” she shot back in the same tone. “collaboration may sound easy but they’re not. you pay artists to collaborate with you. i paid a quarter million to have drake on ‘mine’ and even that was only because grace had some negotiations with him. sadly it’s not that easy.” she explained to him patiently.

nonetheless her annoyance about her situation, she shrugged dismissively. “anyway, i called a good friend of mine and we talked and i send her the song to see if maybe as a favor she would be on it. and now i just wait.”

“well, i still haven’t gotten my song yet. remember, the you promised me so much.” he teased her making her snort.

“and you’ll have to wait till i finish my project.” she replied in a firm tone, signalling him that she was done with the topic. she found the way he was excited for his song extremely funny — if only he knew that she was currently dedicating a whole album to him instead of just one song. an album that portrayed every single step and moment He between them.

he groaned, a his lips scrunching together to a pout. “that’s too long. for all i know, you could be finished in a year.”

“don’t worry, i won’t. that i can promise you. but i just need more time.”

she took his loud breath as acceptance and focused back to her work, not finished with memorising every inch of his body. everything fit now. like this had been the last piece of the puzzle, needed to find what she so desperately longed for. the feeling of true love.

for kylian, everything still felt a bit surreal. if someone had told him a year ago, that he would be here, kissing and talking with amara imani, who used to be his celebrity crush and still was, he would have deemed that person for crazy. and yet it was reality now. circumstances and luck had brought them together and maybe he wished they had met at a different time, when she wasn’t completely broken and needed to be repaired. sure, things could have gone quicker than but if he was honest, he wouldn’t change their process for anything. he had at first hand experienced the process of building a relationship that was founded on trust and love. why would he ever feel the need to change that?

bringing himself out of his thought, he lightly nudged amara who had closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth kylian gave her. “want me to play some music?” kylian murmured into her ear, amara nodding, a soft “hmm” leaving her lips while her eyes rested shut, not really paying attention to his question.

“sure, as long as it’s not—“ she began tiredly. “i know, i know. no french rap.” he cut her off, aware of her distaste for his music. he hit play on the playlist, amara had created for him, the first notes of finesse by drake sounding out of his phone.

it had become a habit for them to play music when they were together. a ritual, where one played music and the other enjoyed and the other way around. it helped them focus on each other, ignore the surroundings around except themselves.

“what’s the first step of your project by the way?” kylian asked her curiously in a low tone, careful to not wake her from her slumber-state.

“stepping back into the public.” she replied nonchalantly, adjusting her head on his chest. “i’m making my comeback.”

“and i’ll support you on every step through it.” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on her hair as she fell asleep. but how could she not? the man she had confessed her feelings for was holding her, without any intention of letting go, he extended a certain sense of comfort and safety amara had never truly felt with evan and he loved her. how could her body not deem him as safe

it was the same for him. even though he hadn’t planned on staying the night, he wouldn’t dare to move even an muscle. the sight of her, sleeping innocently on his chest, was enough to keep him glued to his position for his entire life. if he died right now, he would die a happy man. that was guaranteed. the way her chest lifted calmly in a small rhythm to make clear that she was deep asleep, her soft breaths colliding against his neck — if he could, he would fall all over again for her. she was too perfect for him not too. like said, both added up to each other in the best way possible and it was clear to everyone who saw them, that they wouldn’t find another one like that again. amara finally experienced what she only saw in movies. and it was a million times better.

nobody had ever loved her like him. but if this was, what it felt like then she would pray to any higher power to keep this feeling — this love.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

liked by liyah.clark, charles_leclerc, arianagrande, and 24.385.601 others

amara.imani paris, you treated me well

view all 725.394 comments

amarastan4ever MOM IS BACK AND SHE IS SLAYING

loveramara SOFT LAUNCHING!! WHO STOLE YOUR HEART QUEEN?

liyah.clark who are those fine ladies in the last picture @graceywood

graceywood hope they’re single

amyswiftie the fact that she just came back out of nowhere and thought we would ignore the soft launch

imanisupporter maybe it’s evan, he and kaia seem a bit distant lately

user 1 no way that’s evan, i doubt amara would even go near him with a 10 inch stick

imaniaddict and let’s be honest, evan doesnt look like that, muscular arms and hand placement — could never be him

imara_amanistan AND WE HAVE LOST HER AGAIN TO SOME MAN WHO WILL PROBABLY SCREW HER OVER AGAIN

kiaramaiman is this the announcement for new music??

chloe.imani i just know she has a whole book with diss tracks for e*an

imanixswift guys, calm down. the man in the picture is obviously me (i’m in my delulu era)

imanigossip ARE WE ALL SKIPPING THE FACT THAT WE’RE GETTING NEW MUSIC

143 notes · View notes

yanderecrazysie · 1 year

Text

Entrance (Yandere Fan! Tsukishima)

Requested on my Quotev.

When I say that I love Yandere Fan x Famous Reader stories, I am absolutely not joking- I just freaking LOVE these stories!!! The most likely victim of a yandere would be someone in the public eye because these people are already put on pedestals and treated like gods. I’m so excited to write this asdfgfhfgsdfsad sorry for how late this is, but finally got inspiration AHH!

If you doubt me, go to a boyband concert and look around at some of the girls in the crowd and THEN tell me that not a single one of them would consider murder for their favorite band member.

Also, the way Tsukishima finds Reader’s location is based on a true story of how a psycho fan found and stalked a Japanese Pop Star named Hibiki Sato.

Title: Entrance

Pairings: Tsukishima x Popstar Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Swearing, Slight incel vibes, not Tsukki stealing you from Yams lmao

Summary: You’re different from your bandmates- from every other idol somehow. At least, you are to your biggest, most obsessed fanboy.

entrance

/verb/

fill (someone) with wonder and delight, holding their entire attention

“Tsukki!”

The blond male sitting at his laptop paused in his typing and sent an annoyed glance to his bedroom door, which had been suddenly flung open by his closest friend.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi. Did you forget how to knock?” Tsukishima’s snide comment didn’t do anything to put a damper on his friend’s grin- if anything, the freckle-faced boy beamed even brighter.

The scowling man didn’t bother to ask his companion why he was so happy- he knew he’d find out in a moment. Sure enough, Yamaguchi eagerly brandished a shiny square case, practically shoving it towards him in excitement.

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses and studied the object- a CD case depicting a J-Pop girls’ group. The three girls were attractive in a somewhat-cutesy way. They stood close together, pearly-white grins across their faces as they held up peace signs, each of them clad in a different, glittery, pastel-colored dress with matching ribbons weaved into their long hair. The background was a faded pinkish color and covered in different illustrations of candies and sweets. A bold, bright, and cutely scribbled font above the idols’ heads declared what Tsukishima assumed was either the group’s or the album’s name: Candy Cloud.

“What the hell is this?”

Yamaguchi’s face flushed in embarrassment as his eyes darted away, his smile fading into a wistful expression. Tsukishima felt a twinge of regret for putting a damper on his friend’s spirit but… seriously? What was he thinking, acting so excited over some stuck-up celebrities?

They were all the same. Soaking up the fame and praise like narcissistic sponges when all they cared about was the money and attention their admirers gave them. The personas they showed off to the public were all for show, puppeteered by some publicist who knew what their audience wanted to see and hear.

Female celebrities were the worst- always so desperate to stay basking in the limelight that they would sell their soul to the devil if it meant that no one would forget about them. They’d pump themselves full of Botox and silicone, sleep with the most popular celebrities, and pull asinine stunts if they ever felt like the public wasn’t keeping their eyes on them.

The smiles and laughs they forced in interviews made Tsukishima sick to his stomach. So painfully fake. It was fascinating to see how bad singers were with words and how bad actors were at acting when it came to donning the masks their fans wanted to see.

He’d heard enough stories about these “sweethearts” and “oh-so-genuine” celebrities acting like disgusting monsters the moment they thought no one important was watching. Infuriating divas that verbally abuse their staff, condescending assholes that believe they’re better than everyone else, backstabbing bitches that no one likes but will never say so…

And what do their fans do when this news comes out? Even when faced with undeniable facts, they’ll defend their idol to the death, becoming utter hypocrites and making fools out of themselves. Simping for girls who would probably never know they existed and wouldn’t care about them if they did.

It didn’t matter to Tsukishima what these girls Yamaguchi was fanboying over pretended to be- he had no doubts that they went back to being self-absorbed bitches the moment the camera stopped filming.

Why would Yamaguchi invest any amount of time and effort into girls that would never know of his existence nor appreciate any support he gave them? Why couldn’t he just focus on a girl in one of their university classes or something? Tsukishima could stomach his friend gushing over just about anyone, as long as they weren’t famous.

The friend in question was looking at Tsukishima sadly, disappointed in the response he was receiving as it dampened the positive mood he’d been in, “Sorry, Tsukki, I just… thought you’d like one of them. All three of them are really cool and one’s your type.”

Tsukishima snapped back immediately, “And I’m supposed to believe she’d want to date me or something? They’re just braindead celebrities.”

Yamaguchi wilted and nodded reluctantly, muttering another apology. He stood there awkwardly as Tsukishima resumed tapping away at his keyboard and finally let out a meek excuse to leave.

“Goodbye,” said Tsukishima, not at all sad to see him go. Yamaguchi returned the parting word softly and scurried off, likely to listen to his CD at home.

As the night dragged on, a nagging feeling tugged at Tsukishima’s mind, distracting him from his essay. Why does Yamaguchi think I’d like one of them? Which one of those three girls did he think I’d even like?

Before long, the boy found himself typing “Candy Cloud” into the search bar and scanning the results. Sure enough, Candy Cloud turned out to be the group’s album name, their actual group being a mashup of parts of the members’ names. The first girl wasn’t his type, nor was the one in the middle, but the last girl, (Y/n), was just his type.

She wasn’t like the other celebrities he’d watched interviews of- she was entirely herself without a hint of deception. She giggled over the awkward moments but never lied, only ever saying “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that!” when asked a confidential question.

Her interests and values aligned with Tsukishima’s, to the point that he began to imagine that they agreed on everything. And, as one night turns to one day, turns to a week, to a month, and so on, he begins to delude himself into believing that you know who he is and already feel the way he’s beginning to feel.

Tsukishima no longer lets Yamaguchi come over.

He’s embarrassed, to a point, by how much you have taken over his living space. Your posters and pictures line his walls, your solos play on repeat, and he has every piece of merch, official or not.

Tsukishima studies the latest selfie you’d posted to your personal social media account. He grins. The name of the train station you’re at reflects in the iris and pupil of your big, beautiful eyes. It’s nearby. No more than a 15 minute drive and you’d mentioned “walking home” in the text portion of your post.

Soon enough, he’d be adding the best possible addition to his extensive collection.

You.

#yandere #yandere Tsukishima #Tsukishima Kei #yandere x reader #haikyuu!!#yandere haikyuu #yandere one shot #one shot

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

Text

Talent show | fluff

*A/n~ I take full responsibility for this fic like it's my prompt to myself this time. In just vibing living in my own writing bubble I am absolutely loving you loving my fics and al the sweet comments I'm getting. Thank you for healing my broken heart doves*

Prompt~ y/n writes a song (can I be him - James Arthur) about Larissa. Morticia finds it and gives it to Larissa to sing at the talent show. Y/n is in the crowd when she hears her song and realises it's time to come clean.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Therapy isn't always laying on a sofa spilling your guts to a stranger. No. For you it was more of a creative approach. For you, music was your therapy. Listening but also creating. You find you often express your feelings better in this form rather than actually trying to speak. If you tried you'd stutter and fail. Despite your natural talent for music, you choose to keep any of your compositions completely private. In fact, all the songs you composed lay in a thick black note book. This book came everywhere with you. After all you never know when inspiration would hit. Or when you'd need that release.

Recently your work had been focused on someone in particular. Your muse being the stunning tall blonde girl who was Morticia Addams roommate. Despite rooming with the most popular girl at Nevermore Academy, Larissa was focused on her studies, she was kind and caring and extremely intelligent. Shes just perfect. You always looked forward to the lessons you shared with her. Although you never spoke too much other than work related things. Your shy nature gave off the wrong impression to your crush.

On this particular day, your notebook had vanished from your desk. You had only turned to grab your bag and it was gone. Panic flooded through you as you panicked and searched the area. Only then was it exactly where you'd left it. Extremely odd. You quickly examined it and was relieved that nothing was amiss. If only you knew what had happened then maybe we wouldn't be telling this story.

Nevermore Academy decided to hold a talent show. Not something you were planning on attending due to the crowds of people. Lots of people means lots of noise and that was something you didn't enjoy. But morticia was bragging about her entry with her roommate. That is what got your attention. Larissa. Curiosity got a hold of you as you listened in. So Morticia was going to be doing some kind of gothic one women show and had convinced Miss Weems that she needed a person to sing as a part. Larissa singing? Not something you imagined but it was good to know she had an interest in music. Could she get anymore perfect?

And that is how you got where you are right now. Sat in a crowed hall watching act after act. Desperately waiting for Morticia and Larissa to head on stage. Your companion for the night was Morticia's boyfriend, Gomez Addams. He was nice enough despite his almost sickening love for the gothic girl. You could tell they would be raven king and queen again this year. Nevermore's most popular couple.

Finally the principle announced their act and you sat up straighter in your seat. Morticia started off strong. After all she was good at doing drama. Her whole Nevermore experience was filled to the brim with drama. Always somehow managing to be the thick of everything. It was only when some notes filled the hall that you stiffened. Those notes seemingly too familiar. You tried to rack your brain on how and where you knew then from. It was only when you saw the now shifted Larissa Weems and heard the family wording of your song that you realised.

Your notebook disappeared in a lesson that you shared with Morticia, Morticia's insistence that Larissa help her and even the seating arrangements. Gomez shifted slightly indicating his discomfort. He clearly knew what Morticia had planned.

"You walked into the room and now my heart has been stolen

You took me back in time to when I was unbroken

Now you're all I want

And I knew it from the very first moment

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again

I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories

Can I be her?"

Her voice was honestly making your song sound so much better than it had in your head when it was created. The girl it's about was singing it. No idea she's the muse.

"I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?

Can I be the one

Can I be the one"

If only she knew she was indeed the one. Your one and only muse. But why would she notice the shy girl who hardly spoke. The girl who more often that not was scribbling into a black notebook. You waited on bated breath for the results of the show. And to no surprise Larissa and Morticia gained first place. You couldn't help but feel pride amongst the fear and upset of Morticia taking your song. Your song helped gain first place and everyone seemed to love it. Not only was music your therapy, but others were enjoying your creation.

Larissa made her way to you in order to avoid any spot light.

"Y/n you came!"she exclaimed coming up to hug you in her excitement. You stiffened at the contact which spurred the taller girl into a flurry of apologies.

"I'm sorry y/n. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just I'm so happy you came" she explained in a hurried tone.

She thought you were uncomfortable? If only she knew how much you craved to be in her embrace. It was all just too much for you. Which is why you took her hand and lead her to the quad. The air helping calm the nerves you felt.

"Y/n? Are you okay? I'm sorry I really didn't mean to offend you. I just I really like you and I know your probably not even into girls god I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I'm so sorry please don't hate me" she mumbled in a rush her words blurring together as she raced to get it all out.

"I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?" You sung out to her effectively stopping her rambling.

"You sing beautifully y/n, really you do. But I'm confused why are you singing Morticia's song?" The confusion evident and her puzzled expression making you want to laugh. She was truly an adorable idiot sometimes.

"A few days ago my notebook went missing..." you trailed off only to have Larissa fill the gap, "your black one you take everywhere? Look it's even here now? So you found it?" You nodded and took a breath. "I found it a few minutes later. Now you can imagine my shock when I hear my song sang by this angelic voice. And then it all made sense." You could tell by the way she was looking at you, she'd not made the connection just yet.

"Larissa, Morticia took it. She took my song and gave it to you, then made sure I'd be here tonight to hear you sing it" you explained and watched as realisation fell onto her facial expressions. "But why?" She queried. "Because I - it's about you" you blurted out in a panic. "Me?" You nodded looking anywhere but the taller girl. This was not how you planned to tell her. You weren't ready to tell her yet, but Morticia had other plans and you were struggling to be upset with her.

"You're my muse Larissa. I want to be the one you are with. You didn't make me uncomfortable earlier I just wasn't expecting you to want to hug me. I don't like crowded space and already on edge I'm sorry I made you feel that. I understand my feelings are rather out there and a girl like you wouldn't want a girl like me." You trailed off wondering why you gave away so much information.

"I want to be your one too" she whispered back to you before coming closer to place an innocent kiss to your cheek. You blushed instantly at the action. This had to be a dream no way could she return your feelings. "You write beautifully darling" the pet name gaining another blush from you, "it was a wonderful song. I'm sorry that Morticia took it. I had no idea." She reassured. "It was only beautiful because you sang it so perfectly." You complimented her back smiling at the fact she was now also blushing.

"Y/n, can I kiss you please?" She whispered coming impossibly close. You nodded and then you felt her hand come up to cup your cheek as if you were the most fragile human and then her lips pressed against yours ever so lightly. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as you kissed her back. Only when you pull apart do you become aware that it's no longer just the two of you. If the half hushed whispers of morticia and Gomez are much to go by. "I told you they would be fine look see I was right Mon Cherie."

Word count~ 1714

*A/n~ I just love James Arthur also please make sure you're all drinking and taking care of yourselves*

#fanfic #larissa weems #larissa x reader #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x you #anon request #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems

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koralira-kira · 9 months

Text

him as your co-barista ❆park sunghoon❆

pairings : barista!parksunghoon x barista!reader

genre : fluff, romance, cafe love, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, sunghoon just being an absolute cutie

synopsis : sunghoon always wanted to try being a barista for a while ever since he moved to college. now he's giving it a shot

warnings : none

wc : 898

notes : i'm back again! honestly, i've been really tired lately. i moved in to my dorm, then it was the first day of school, and now i'm busy training dancing because i have a performance coming up (god bless my soul). and now there's new exchange students from japan that are coming to my school next month. to add up, my classes hasn't even started yet 😭. i'm doing fine though! just need a bit of rest then i'm ok. anyways, this fic is inspired by me cuz i'm a barista myself and i just had to write this down as soon as i thought of this. im quite proud actually and i hope you enjoy this as much as i do! i almost forgot, here's the link for the latte art that sunghoon did in the bonus part of the fic. hope you enjoy!

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co-barista!sunghoon who asks you what to do on his first day working as a barista. obviously you started off strong by teaching him how to take orders. you also taught him how to extract espresso shots too! man was so happy and proud when he made his first espresso shots.

co-barista!sunghoon who stresses out while taking orders during lunch rush. rants to you about it as soon as the orders had quiet down. you didn't know why but you find it cute seeing him lowkey panicking while taking the orders. bonus! he also may or may not have mistaken a few orders during the rush.

co-barista!sunghoon who attracts girls in the coffee shop and will sometimes ask for a picture or his number. sales have been going up rapidly ever since he started working.

co-barista!sunghoon who on the next day arrives early and shyly asks you to teach him to make latte art. of course you did but you gave him a heads that it might take him a couple of tries to somehow achieve it.

co-barista!sunghoon who was amazed by your latte art skills and had sparkles in his eyes as soon as he saw the final product. he didn't even know that you could make a swan let alone a penis! of course he was impressed.

co-barista!sunghoon that tries his hardest to impress with his first latte art but fails miserably and makes a lopsided heart instead. of course you reassured him that it was good enough but for him it really wasn't. he really wanted to impress you the way you impressed him. and so, he tried doing it again.

co-barista!sunghoon who accidentally burnt himself while trying to steam the milk and it ended up all over his apron and the floor. you immediately went to get the mop while sunghoon was left alone embarrassed. poor boy just wanted to impress you.

co-barista!sunghoon that you taught how to steam the milk properly and got flustered as you helped him guide his hands to angle the pitcher right. he found it cute how you had to go on your toes because the machine was a bit too high for you to see the milk steaming. he didn't really listen the whole time you were talking but he was damn sure that it made his heart go a bit faster than usual.

co-barista!sunghoon who watched multiple videos on how to make latte art as soon as he went home. though he didn't have any equipment in his apartment complex, he listened carefully and attentively as if it would really affect his grades. he wouldn't admit it but he stayed up until 2am just watching videos on how to improve your latte art and how to steam the milk correctly.

co-barista!sunghoon who clocked in while looking like he was sleep deprived. his under eyes were dark and he looked like he could sleep anytime. you asked if he was doing fine but then he replied, "yeah, don't worry about it. just slept a bit late last night."

co-barista!sunghoon who subtly gets to know you by the playlist that you made for the coffee shop. after about a week of him being a barista, he learned that you like niki a lot, especially her album 'nicole'. what you didn't know is that he secretly scans the coffee shop's spotify to see what you mostly play during your shift. he also has seen you singing the lyrics while making a few orders.

co-barista!sunghoon who asks you out to get food after your shift. you tried to decline thinking that it would waste his time but he insisted it. both of you ended up in a ramen shop just nearby and ordered away.

co-barista!sunghoon who insisted on paying the bills and now the two of you are bickering about it. both of you ended up deciding that you pay the bills. now sunghoon's determined that he'll surely pay the bills next time.

co-barista!sunghoon who asked you out for the second time to roam around town and tell you that it's his treat this time. you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your heart flutter.

co-barista!sunghoon who always waits for you then accompanies you after your shift and will walk with you to your apartment complex. he doesn't care if it's a bit far from where he is, all he needs to know is that you're home safe.

co-barista!sunghoon who asks you out again for the fifth time this month and tells you it's just a "friendly hangout". little did you know that he'll admit his feelings for you. of course you accepted and returned the feelings back.

co-barista!sunghoon who gets too excited and kisses you with so much passion that he forgot to ask for you consent. but as soon as he tried to break this kiss, you pulled his collar back to you and kissed him again. the both of you pulled back to catch some air then eventually smiled at each other. thank god that the lights in sunghoon's car was off, or you could've seen him being as red as a tomato.

bonus!

co-barista!sunghoon who has finally mastered his latte art skills, surprises you with his works from time to time. but it's mostly a just a penis.

fin

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111 notes · View notes

scarletnakazato · 2 months

Text

Shingo Shoji - Love Killer

• Shingo Shoji x Reader | Smut | • Word Count: 12,470. • Synopsis: In which Shingo is shown the love he deserves and Takeshi fookin' learns that no one gets between Shoji and his girl. • Note: Finally back in the Initial D game, here's my first big comeback in over FOUR years. More importantly, my fanfic partner in crime, DistanceYourselfFromMyProximity on AO3 deserves a HUGE fucking shoutout for helping me beyond all rational reason with the ideas for this fic and my soon to come future ones as well. The sheer amount of hate fuck love she's got for this beaked nose MF is truly fascinating along with her own fics. Thank you bestie for the inspiration and getting my motivation back to write for this severely underrated fandom! <3

➽───────────────❥

The NightKids were sitting in a booth at the local late-night restaurant they frequented. Shingo took the spot closest to the window, being able to hang an arm over the ledge of the windowsill and set his knee on the booth to sit angular like he usually does. Takeshi sat directly across from him, the rest of the group taking the outer spots.

As the other members of the team ordered some coffees for everyone, one of them brought up the topic of what they think is going to happen at the race they’re attending tonight. As the NightKids top two racers sipped their caffeine in relative peace, one of them looked to Shingo.

“Say, man, you’ve been teaching your girl how to drive with the gumtape right? How’s she doing with it?”

“Pretty well. She’s at least used to the layout of FFs so adjusting to the tape and only steering at high speeds with one hand is about the only thing she’s got some resistance to. She’s also got some hesitance on the left foot braking, so she’s been going up to Myogi damn near every night just to drive around and get used to that before anything else.” His voice kept its usual raspy, hoarseness to it, almost retaining the snarky-ness as well, but if one were to listen hard enough, they’d pick up on traces of sincerity and genuine pride.

He wouldn’t go into further detail about the way she’s had quite a few instances of slowing down too much before a turn and getting spooked about losing control too easily, especially in her boyfriend’s car. He’d always watch her movements and when she’d tense her arms before a turn, he’d lightly place his right hand on the wheel as she turned, helping her make it through and add slight pressure to turn the wheel either further in or out depending on what was needed. After successfully making it through a turn he’d go back to rest his head on his hand that was leant against the passenger door as he continued to watch her. Shingo would give little compliments on something she aced or her smooth shifting and braking along with his occasional interjections of advice on what to do or how to handle something coming up.

He wasn’t going to throw her into the fray of learning something as dangerous as gumtape driving by wrapping her whole hand. He started very small, simply wrapping the tape around the wheel and her hand once then again to have one layer of tape around her wrist. It gave her enough pressure to not move her hand away but was also light enough to pull away with enough force if needed suddenly.

The day she asked him to teach her how to do it even after his self-induced wreck with the 8-6 made him feel something inside. Something... warm. He felt needed at that moment. He had enough trouble dealing with and trying to come to terms with himself in things he couldn’t control. The way he’d get made fun of in school for his allergies, his voice, appearance, and especially his nose made him grow up bitter and spiteful.

Somewhere, somehow, fate decided to throw (Y/N) his way. He could remember the night she asked if he was single and wanted to go on a date as vividly as if he was re-living that moment a year and a half ago. He still felt bad about giving her some attitude, accepting with, “Fine, but don’t expect much out of it.” She still left with a smile that night.

The day of their date, he stared at himself in the mirror for hours. He couldn’t decide how to style his hair or if it was better to just leave it messy. He never had the right clothes for something remotely nice. Just plain t-shirts, baggy pants and hoodies. He hated himself so much that day he almost skipped the date. But the want - the need to have someone next to him - won that war and he showed up fifteen minutes late. Luckily, she was still there. He found her sitting near the window of the restaurant she mentioned, sipping her drink so prettily. He could see her red lipstick from the car and was even more captivated when he walked in, seeing the deep red dress she wore, black heels to match.

God, she was gorgeous, he thought. What chance did he have to score her? When she laid eyes on his form approaching, dressed in black, the only shade of red to be found on him was the laces of his shoes and his ears which were hidden under his hair (to his luck). She greeted him with a smile as if he wasn’t late at all. She complimented his outfit choice along with his tousled hair, from a previous small breakdown, saying he had that bad boy look going on and she dug it. He kept his usual tough attitude, replying that it wasn’t anything special and tried to play it off. He cussed himself out mentally, calling himself an idiot for being rude and thinking this was the start and end to the happiness he could have had. Instead, she simply giggled and nodded, changing the topic to ask about his car and his racing team.

With that, their date flew by, and he found himself impressed with her car knowledge and the fact she wanted a Civic of her own and was looking at her options for different models. He found himself rambling on about his car and his skills and she listened with interest, leaning forward slightly as she munched on her food. Nodding along with him occasionally, she’d mention things she wanted to learn once she gets her car and get good enough to join a team. “Maybe good enough to snag a place on yours?” she’d questioned with a giggle.

During their time that night Shingo hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long while. About halfway through the time they spent at the restaurant he got a sense that she wasn’t judging him or trying to dig into him for information that he didn’t want to give. It was nice for a change. He wouldn’t take no for an answer when she kept asking if she could at least pay for her half of the bill, or at least pay him back. All Shingo replied with as he put the cash on the tray and met her eyes was, “Just be quiet and look pretty.” He let out a small, amused hum when she cut herself off, blushing at his words and avoiding his gaze.

Shingo offered to drive her home to which she gladly accepted, wanting to see what it was like inside of his car. She admired the way he glided smoothly through gears and steered as if the car was an extension of himself. Completely in tune. The rumble of the engine and exhaust created a calming background noise. Her attempts at subtly looking over at him were mediocre at best. Always turning her head slightly to get a better look at him was easily noticed.

He didn’t want to say anything, however. It felt nice that someone wanted to look at him for more than just conversation. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was also looking to gauge if she truly liked him or not. Sure, she was looking at him all night while they talked, but now that he had to focus more on driving, she could think about that option with a side profile of himself.

What he didn’t know however was the fact she was admiring how he was both cute and hot with that curved nose of his. The way it smoothly and subtly curved outward, the thinness of it made it appear more beaked. It was cute watching him scrunch his nose while he talked about something that annoyed him, like the leader of his team. It fit him so well, along with the small upward curve at the outside corners of his eyes. It gave them the illusion of being permanently half-lidded, as if he was always glaring, annoyed, or tired.

Minutes later, he pulled onto the shoulder of the road in front of her house. She gathered her bag and opened the door before turning towards him. “Thank you for tonight, you were great.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lower bridge of his nose, just above the tip before hopping out of the car and quickly heading inside, cheeks red. Shingo sat there for a solid minute, stunned by her small action. He could feel heat where her lips were for only a split second and lightly rubbed at that spot, before shaking his head and pulling back onto the road. His face felt like it was on fire and the quick image of her kissing his nose replayed in his mind the whole way home.

Shingo snaps out of his daydream when he hears snapping in front of him, locking eyes with the guy next to him. “You good, man? Spaced out for a solid couple minutes there.”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinkin’.” He waved him off, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “Y’all wanna head out or what?” He threw back the rest of the coffee like he was taking a shot of alcohol, looking ready to leave. Everyone nodded in agreement, leaving their share of the payment before returning to their cars. Eventually reaching the top of Myogi, passing through dozens of spectators, Shingo pulled away from his team’s single-file line after finding his girlfriend’s black EG6 and parking next to it.

He caught her talking with her best friend near the vending machine, both laughing and making hand gestures about whatever it was they were likely gossiping about while sipping on canned coffee. He noticed Takeshi walking over to the two girls, seeing as he parked closest to them. They appeared to be greeting him nicely, her friend waving and (Y/N) giving him a nod.

The way Nakazato seemed to be focusing his attention on Shingo’s girl more over her friend was starting to piss him off. As if Shingo and Takeshi didn’t have enough beef with each other, now the guy wanted to chat up his girlfriend like the most casual thing in the world? Shingo was always the one who would watch how girls admired him like he was as big a hotshot as Ryosuke and Keisuke Takahashi. They’d watch him with hearts in their eyes and if any even tried to talk to him he’d always be polite about it. That only made the girls fall for him more and act like they made a fan club in Takeshi’s name.

They put him on such a high pedestal that it left Shingo feeling like he was at the bottom of the totem pole, despite being the NightKids second best racer. All the time and effort he had to dedicate, the sweat and blood he put into perfecting his techniques felt like jack shit compared to the way people admired and complimented Takeshi. Even guys respected Nakazato’s skill and the only things people would spread about Shingo was his deadly driving style, which he loved as it gave him an intimidating aura, then to a laughingstock after his loss with the 8-6. It was back to square one with the name calling, the jokes, the insults, all of it. Even after Takeshi lost to the 8-6, it was spread around that the Black Lightning of Myogi lost to an 80’s Corolla, but he was still deemed as an excellent driver and had people surprised someone as good as Takeshi could lose.

Shingo, though? Almost everyone had their bets on the 8-6.

The only person who truly backed him was his girl. The night before that race they had lied in bed together and she brought up all the ideas she could to help him put together strategies if his main one didn’t work. The frequent accentuations of telling him to be careful with the gumtape and to memorize the pass for less of a chance of a fuck up.

He thought back to that race as he sat on the hood of his car, his eyes still trained on Takeshi and (Y/N) a distance away but turning into a zoned-out expression.

All she ever did was look out for him, help him with ways to improve and get better. And what did he do? Rammed himself into a guardrail like an idiot. He didn’t expect anyone to come looking for him after he wrecked and the Trueno continued onward. When he saw the headlights of Iketani’s S13 turn around the corner, and the SpeedStars rushing to check on him, Shingo felt pathetic. He had never been so embarrassed or ashamed in his life and it was his own fault. The humiliation was extraordinary.

He didn’t have the nerve to look them in the eyes after talking such a big game about beating the 8-6. With how forgiving Iketani and his team were about taking him to the hospital and explaining that it’s the racer’s code to look out for one another, opponent or not, Shingo only thought of how disappointed and livid (Y/N) was going to be if she heard about it. When she heard about it. He couldn’t keep it from her. He didn’t want her hearing about his fuck up through rumours and other people’s words. She deserved to hear it from him straight up.

Holding his wrist in pain, he looked out at the city beyond the pass, asking Iketani to “make a call on one of their cells real quick.” Kenji handed him a phone and he dialed her number.

She couldn’t make it to his race because she had gone to visit family after not seeing them for some time and they planned a gathering. He understood completely. He may have been somewhat jealous she had as loving a family as she did, but when she introduced him to them, they treated him like one of their own. Sure, his parents were fine and treated him right, but he noticed that Western families show more love and appreciation for one another, and their children more than Japanese families do. They outwardly say “I love you” to her, meanwhile his parents never did, but still showed their affection and love in different, smaller ways. Still, it never felt thorough to Shingo.

With each ring of the phone as he waited for her pick up, his dread rose even further until it cut off and she answered with a slightly confused “Hello?”

“Hey, babe… it’s me.” He said somewhat quietly, facing away from the other guys, even though they gave him space to talk privately. “You okay? Did something happen?” He let out a short breath through his nose, the smallest of smiles on his face knowing she could see, and hear, right through him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright pretty much. Race didn’t end well and I… I uh wrecked. A bit.” His face, red as his Civic and hot in shame, his eyes diverting to the road.

“What? How? What happened? Are you hurt?” she questioned quickly, not waiting for a reply as she grabbed her car keys, and he could hear them on the other end of the phone.

“Baby, it’s okay, you don’t need to come over here, I just fucked up my wrist a bit. I just… didn’t want you to find out from other people spreading rumours and shit. Felt like you deserve to know right away.” His voice held a sad, depressive tone, his eyes falling on the beat up Civic not even ten feet away. Shingo was terrified that if she saw his car and knew it was his fault that he wanted to play dirty, he’d lose her in an instant. Everything they had - he had - would be gone in moments and he’d be alone again.

“You still on Akina?” She asked, some metal sounds clanking in the background of the phone and some voices he couldn’t make out any sentences to. “Yeah. It was gonna take me a bit to move the car and uh-”

“Good. Stay there, I’ll be over in thirty minutes.” Before he could ask or even reply she hung up just as the sound of her car turned on. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, unsure of what was going to happen when she arrived. Handing the phone back to Kenji, he told them that his girlfriend was on the way, and it was best he stayed there to wait for her, adding that they didn’t need to wait with him.

He felt like a fool enough being a royal dick to them, wanting to dig his own grave just to crawl into it when they said they don’t mind waiting with him and can help clean up the leaking oil and broken pieces of his light fixtures. They assured him he could chill out and take it easy on his arm, so they handled the oil leak from the Civic’s front end then brushed up the busted headlight and taillight pieces with a small brush Iketani kept in the S13 for his interior.

Shingo was trying his best to keep the second stream of tears from flowing in front of the guys. Sitting sideways in the passenger seat of his civic, legs hanging out of the doorway as his hands rested on his lap, he soon heard the distant rumbling of a Civic engine. Shingo and the SpeedStars raised their heads at the noise, seeing his girlfriend pull up in front of the battered red Civic and stopping, as if taking in the damage.

She lays eyes on Shingo who looks completely defeated. She notices how he doesn’t look up at her car after the initial attention of who was approaching.

Iketani jogs over to the driver's side, and she rolls down her window. “Hey! He doesn’t seem as bad as the crash looks. Seems like just his wrist is banged up and the car isn’t drivable. He had an oil leak somewhere in the front, but we cleaned up the mess, so others won’t run over it.”

“Right. Thank you for that, sorry about the trouble.” She replied, grateful but somber. “I got a trailer with me so I can take his car with us.” Iketani nodded and offered his and Kenji’s help with setting up the trailer in front of the EG. Once done, she connected a hook to the Civic to be pulled by a motor and onto the trailer. Shingo could barely watch the depressing sight as he stood there, feeling like a fish out of water.

With the Civic strapped to the trailer and the guys helping (Y/N) turn around to face the downhill she called for Shingo to get in the car, thanking the SpeedStars once more for the help before they headed back to the S13. She turned toward Shingo, seeing him struggle to click the seatbelt into place. Gently taking it from him, she settled him in before gently taking his right arm and lifting it to inspect the damage.

She noticed him wince slightly before asking, “What happened, Shin?” she averted her gaze back down to his wrist, seeing the traces of bruising becoming slowly apparent. It took him a minute before he hesitantly answered with a quiet, “It was the gumtape deathmatch… it’s not that bad, I’ll be fine…”

She hummed in thought at his words. Gently releasing his arm, she put the car in gear and started down the pass. The more she drove down the windy road of Akina, the more she realized, “Something doesn’t add up, Shingo. I’ve seen you do this so many times before and you’ve never done this; you’re too good for that, you’ve said it yourself you’ve trained for hours upon hours to master it, whether it's on Myogi or somewhere else. What really happened?” her tone was light, knowing he wasn’t in the best state now, and she’s never seen him so defeated before. She sees him slouch into the seat more out of her peripheral vision, making himself smaller.

Making it to the bottom of the pass and catching a stoplight, she takes the chance to turn towards him, looking him in his eyes that almost appear… guilty? She didn’t know for sure. “What did you do, Shin? This isn’t like you.” Her tone turned concerned. She’s only ever witnessed her man like this once and that was over a year ago. She had to know what happened at that race.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, brokenly. Even after the light had changed colour and the car moved once more, it’s all he could say. Like a broken record on repeat. She was beginning to get scared at what had made him so terrified. Was the crash that bad? The only damage was to the lights along with a leak somewhere. It couldn’t have been that traumatizing. The guardrail looked stable and sturdy, barely a dent in it.

“Hey, hey, I’m not angry baby, okay? I just want to know what happened. You did something, that much is clear, but you need to tell me what that was. I mean, sure I may be pissed some because I could have lost you. If that guardrail was the least bit weak where you hit it, it could have broken apart and you’d be dead. I don’t want- I can’t even think about what that would’ve looked like if that rail broke on you. But… I understand that these kinds of dangers come with racing, especially on narrow mountain courses. It rough and scary, I know, and that’s why I’m trying to be as understanding as I can here, so just bear with me, alright?”

The thoughts racing through Shingo’s mind had him lost and confused. Shaking his head at her words, he didn’t know what to say or how to say it. ‘Even after all I’ve done and put her through, she still cares about me? Heh…bullshit Shingo, the minute I tell her anything she’d leave, fuckin’ run away, and be repulsed just at the sight o’ me.’ He thought to himself.

Jolted from his thoughts at a gentle squeeze on his bicep, he sees the entrance to a hospital. “C’mon, let's get your wrist looked at. Can’t go home like this.” She unclicked his belt for him and got out of the car. He sighed deeply, the guilt weighing all the heavier on him now. The overbearing weight on his shoulders had them drooping down in reality. They silently walked together into the hospital as she checked him in with the receptionist. The visit was short, having had a quick X-ray done and his hand and wrist wrapped in a cast then arm situated in a sling. He felt pathetic beyond all rational reason. The mere fact his girl had to see him like this on top of it all was indescribable.

He tried to hide the small tears that once again escaped the corners of his eyes once they reached her car. The sight of his Civic sitting on the trailer hurts his heart. But once again, the mere idea of her leaving him once all hell breaks loose at his inevitable explanations is going to damage his soul. The drive to their apartment was silent, but not entirely tense. He was both grateful and dreading the fact they arrived home quickly. Each step up the stairs felt heavier than the last and he glanced up at his girlfriend in front of him for a split second before his eyes glued themselves to the floor once again, a silent sigh leaving his lips.

Entering the apartment and hearing (Y/N) lock the door felt more trap-like than anything. ‘No escaping it now,’ he thought. A gentle hand landed on his upper back, silently guiding him to their bedroom where she motioned for him to sit on the bed. Sitting on her side, she crossed her legs and faced him as his back rested uncomfortably against the wall. He felt wrong for leaning back so casually in a time like this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to have the strength to sit up.

“Talk to me, Shingo. Please. I haven’t seen you like this in so long, it’s honestly starting to scare me. What’s worrying you so much?” she asked, a long pause in-between before she added a “You know what…” and his heart sank.

“How about we start from the beginning? From the start of the race up to right now, okay?” she eyed him almost desperately. The sight of him like this, so weak and vulnerable, tore at her heartstrings. She felt slightly relieved when he nodded his head lightly. He inhaled, mouth slightly open as if to speak, but pausing for a moment, thinking of how to put his words together before she finally heard him speak in over an hour, “The race started out fine. Up until that corner. I guess- I got too full of myself. Thought I was some invincible guy who could finally beat the 8-6 and… when I realized I wasn’t going to, like everyone else, I figured it would’ve been better to protect my pride over just losing a race.”

When he paused, she cut the silence with “And what method did you use to try and protect your pride?”

“If I couldn’t win, I didn’t want Fujiwara to, either. So…” he raised his good hand to his head, hiding half his face with it and his fingers grip into the loose strands of his hair as he started to shake a bit, more tears threatening to fall in guilt and fear, “I was gonna have both of us wreck. I fucked that up big time. Being wrapped up in my head I didn’t see the right turn coming up and swung left. Missed the 8-6 completely, grinded the side of the car against the guardrail and clipped it. Ended up ricocheting off it and rear-ended the guardrail.” By now the man before her had tears streaming down his cheeks. He waited for the laughing or the yelling to start about how much of an idiot he was, that he never learns, never thinks about the consequences.

However, that never came. She scooted closer to him sitting to the left of his legs. “Never do that again, do you understand me?” Her tone was firm but, in a way, still gentle, still caring. He nodded quickly, taking in the feeling of her running her hand along his good arm, giving it reassuring squeezes. This continued for several minutes as she mulled over his racing tactics. Something about it seemed familiar. Like she’d heard of some other racer going around and bumping into cars. Specifically, any that weren’t FF layouts… “Shingo?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed weakly. “Remember a while back when I asked you about that rumour of someone in a Civic that went around tapping other people’s bumpers? That was you, wasn’t it?” The way she asked told him she knew the answer to that question. She could practically see him deflate when she figured it out. “Don’t do that Shingo.” She made him look up at her, her hand holding his chin. “You can’t fool me completely. Or at least not for long. Who else in Gunma drives a red Civic?”

He looks into her eyes for the first time in hours and it makes him want to cry harder. The way the moonlight bounces off them and brightens them as they stare at him so softly, so lovingly despite all the bullshit he’s done. “I didn’t want you to know that part of me. I know I’m an ass, I know I do stupid things…” he hiccupped, his chest beginning to tremble once more, “but the day you asked me about that I just couldn’t risk losing you to something I’ve done. Of being repulsed by me.”

His sobbing only got worse the longer he had to confess and explain himself, even with (Y/N) trying to be as understanding as possible and seeing her man so beat up about some racing moves hurt her at the sight. Sure, they’re dirty tricks, but no one’s gotten hurt, and she has heard of others who have pulled far more life-endangering tactics than this. The fact he’s getting worse is largening her concern by the minute. Lightly cupping his face to get his attention, he just shakes his head, staring past her, repeating “I can’t say anymore, I can’t,” his voice cracking like a scratched record.

She asks why with such a heartbroken expression on her soft face. “Cause I’ll lose you if I do.” His voice cracks and he finally caved in when she hugged him tightly, being mindful of his bad arm. Her hold is tight. Protective. Reassuring. Loving. “I’m not going anywhere Shingo.” (Y/N)’s voice even began to crack as she teared up at the utter despair she was witnessing. Using his good arm, he pulls her on top of him as best as possible to hug her in a straightened position. His head drops onto her shoulder as he shakes, sobbing almost violently.

Her fingers run soothingly through his hair in attempt to calm him down when he chokes out “I’m such a fucking idiot, I can’t even hold you properly. So fucking pathetic.” She didn’t say anything, instead shaking her head against the side of his and resting her hand protectively at the back of it. After a while his sobs and shakes died down slowly until there were none left. Having worn himself out from crying he fell asleep in her arms. Gently pulling away from him, she slowly lied him down comfortably in bed, covering him and lightly adjusting his arm. She ghosted her thumbs over his face, wiping away the nearly dried tears and smoothing out his features to relax.

She quickly did her nightly routine, changing into comfortable sleeping clothes before joining him, lightly hooking her leg over his out of habit. She must make up for the physical touch somehow since she can’t cuddle up against his bad arm. Falling asleep rather quickly from the whole ordeal allowed for an easy sleep until morning.

Being the first to wake, she made coffee, bringing two mugs and water with her. Setting them on the nightstand beside her, she climbed back into bed, watching how peacefully her boyfriend was sleeping with small sips. She was halfway done with her first cup when he finally stirred awake, his normally half lidded eyes, even more closed than usual, but open nonetheless, met hers. His eyebrows contorted in confusion when he processed that she was still here.

“Hi baby.” She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee. “Feeling a little better?”

“I guess.” He sat up, a leg bent on the bed and the other arched over it. His left elbow rested on his arched knee, his arm hanging limply outward. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.” His voice was hoarse yet quiet.

“Of course I would. I told you; I’m not leaving. This isn’t the end of the world, Shin. We all fuck up big time at some point. Don’t beat yourself up so much over this. Everything that happened, it’s fixable, it’s replaceable, nothing was truly lost, alright? Now, here, drink this, you sound like a dying horse.” She spoke light-heartedly, handing him a bottle of water after unscrewing the cap. “I have work today in a little bit, so I set up some stuff for you to make it easy on your arm. Don’t try and do anything big around here, ‘kay?” She took his head in her free hand and pressed a kiss on his forehead before going to get ready.

He watched her go about her routine as if the events of last night never happened. It was both relieving and confusing to him. Ever the enigma, she was. He wanted to believe so badly that she was right, and it was fine to just let it go. But the weighing feeling of having let her down so heavily, having been so stupid for something that could’ve been easily avoided, nagged at the back of his mind continuously.

He was so lost in thought he barely noticed her come back in to say goodbye, leaving with another loving kiss on his nose and exiting their apartment. When Shingo heard her car start, he turned his head towards the window, seeing her drive off with his own Civic still in tow. She knew he wanted it fixed, but that was going to cost a fortune at this rate. Having to stop work for his injury was going to cut his paychecks off for a while and she was the backbone of everything now.

He never thought the consequences of one crash would be so large and affect them for so long. This continued for weeks. Yet she remained as understanding and loving as ever. Over time, his mental state was getting better, albeit slowly. His arm was healing well, only having it wrapped with firm bandages a little over a month later. He was at least able to make himself a bit more useful, keeping their place tidy and making most of the dinner for them by the time she got home. She’d always perch her head on his shoulder, watching him cook as her arms wrapped around his middle comfortably.

“Y’know babe,” she’d start, Shingo knowing what she’d say next as she’s repeated at least once a week since he’s been stuck at home, “You’d make a nice househusband, hmmm?” she’d nudge his side just under the ribs knowing he was a bit ticklish there. He’d jerk at the feeling as she giggled, and he’d groan that she got him again. She’d peck his cheek quickly before scurrying off to shower and change.

Over the duration of Shingo’s recovery, she had been as patient as she could with him, to help him see himself how she sees him, that he’s loved and to help him come to terms with his mistakes. She knew he still wasn’t in a good mindset and felt a bit guilty that a girl has her needs. She was hoping she could at least get him into it enough that she could also show him physically how much she loves him rather than saying the same words over and over through explanations. He needed to see it, feel it to understand.

As they sat in bed, (Y/N) reading a manga quietly while Shingo leant against the headboard next to her, spaced out once more, she decided to take the chance to test the waters. Silently shutting the book and placing it on the nightstand, she turned towards her boyfriend, hooking her leg over his in their usual manner. Hugging him sideways, an arm wrapped behind his back and the other in front, she placed light kisses on his neck. She could feel him tense, and she stopped, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him.

“Why would you still want to do that with me?” His voice was flat, unsure of what emotions he should be feeling.

“Because. You’re my man and I chose you. And after these past weeks I feel it’s time for me to show you, properly, and remind you how much I love you, in all aspects… if you’ll let me?” she placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, giving his bicep and side a comforting squeeze. He responds hesitantly, his good hand resting lightly on her waist, scared that if he presses any further, she’ll vanish. “I don’t get it. How can you even want me like this after… that.”

“Because I want to see you race again. I want to see that serious, focused look in your eyes as you haul ass down that pass. The way your arms flex and tense with shifting, turning the wheel, and just how much to use the handbrake. I wanna chase you again with our runs. I especially want you chasing me. That intimidating aura you and the car give off; it sends chills down me, Shin.” She mimics the chills effect by running her fingers down his chest and stomach, feeling him tense the muscles there.

“Remember what you were like when you had that adrenaline? That sexy ass smirk you’d put on when you had a challenger. The way your voice got growly when you wanted to prove people wrong.” Her hands lightly traced along his neck, roaming to each place of him that she described. Her fingers left a trail of heat in their wake. Shingo shivered slightly when her fingers travelled down to his v-line. “Remember how you’d get when you’d show off your techniques to me in your car? You couldn’t even get to the bottom of the pass before I’d tell you to pull over and shut the car off. God, you are one hot son of a bitch, Shingo.”

Her kisses trailed down to his collarbone, kissing the exposed skin to the rim of his shirt. She felt him squeeze her waist, his wrapped hand touching the other side. “You have no idea how much I love you.” As she continued to display her affection, he was conflicted about what he really wanted. He didn’t feel that he deserved so much attention like this but when he thought back to all the previous times, he had her calling his name like a melody, and twisting and bending her in delicious ways that she’d praise him to and beg for more, he always knew he was doing something right. Even after the last few weeks of having no intimacy he craved her touch more than anything, guilt be damned.

His carnal mind told him to throw the baggage out the window and revel in his woman, but his conscious told him to smooth things over first, end this torturous mental state and get through the pain. Maybe, just maybe, if he put himself first, decided to be a little selfish and ignore the guilt for one night, to listen to his girl’s words and take them in, try to see her point of view, he’d get through it better. His hold on her waist tightened as he made up his mind by pulling her closer, forcing her to adjust her position and straddle his thighs.

She hummed happily, knowing he accepted her, and she was going to damn well prove to him just how fucking perfect he was. “If you ever want me to stop, just say so, alright, baby? No questions asked.” She rose her head to plant a kiss on his nose, the same way she did since their first date. He nodded lightly, his thumbs lightly rubbing into her hips. “Good boy.” She smiled warmly before leaning in to give him a proper kiss.

The passion she put into her movements was almost overwhelming instantly. Even if he didn’t kiss back with as much vigor, she didn’t pull away, didn’t let down. Her hands travelled back down to the hem of his burgundy t-shirt, spreading her fingers out to feel his upper half in full as she pushed his shirt up, breaking the kiss to pull it off him, still being mindful of his injured wrist.

The second his shirt fell to the floor, her lips latched back onto his, the ghostly pressure of her snake bites pressing against his soft lips pulled a light sigh out of him. He always loved the way her piercings felt on his skin, even along his neck and chest, the small red metal loops never failed to elicit those lovely sounds from his throat. The second she got the chance to slip her tongue in past his parted lips, she pressed her tongue against his, the piercing on her wet muscle earning a low moan and a firmer grip on her hips.

Her hands dropped to the waistband of his pants, lithe fingers ghosting down and over his slowly growing length. She whispered words of praise and details of him that she found beautiful; his eyes. Attractive; his face and body, his both adorable and unexplainably hot nose, and so much more that he was melting completely under her touch. She had him sighing and whimpering so prettily, his voice whispering her name as she took her time showing him just how much she wanted him. Just as she was about to hook her fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants, their eyes met and-

“Yo, Shingo!” Growling in annoyance, his eyes snapped over to the guy who pulled him back to reality, his cigarette bent in half as well. “What.” The man approaching him put his hands up in surrender, surprised by the sudden hostility.

“Nothin’ man, just wanted to see how things were going. You looked pretty spaced out there.”

“Was going fine until you brought me back to the cesspool of reality.” Shingo took a long drag of his bent cigarette before stomping it out and breathing the smoke out through his nose in an annoyed sigh. His eyes landed back on his girl and her friend, seeing Nakazato still with them. Couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that he was daydreaming for, the race hadn’t even started yet. He kept his gaze directed on the three of them, picking up on how her friend stared at Takeshi almost dreamily like she does with the Takahashi Brothers as well. (Y/N) however, had her back completely to him so he couldn’t tell, but that annoyingly soft smile Takeshi was displaying pissed him off.

He always kind of hated deep down that Takeshi seemed to have all the looks. Didn’t have a weird nose, had a defined, angular facial structure that the girl’s would lose their shit over, how his eyebrows complimented his eye’s shape, all of it. It was annoying. Then the day he got his “sweet 3-2” it’s like he became as much a bitch magnet as the Takahashi’s.

But when Shingo and his girl got deeper into their relationship, he was surprised at how much she’d stare at him, complimenting his features, and then winking at him with play seduction before going back to what she was doing. He came around quickly with the fact she only had eyes for him and loved the way she’d give disgusted looks to random guys who tried talking her up before she simply pointed in Shingo’s direction so he could flip them off as he took a sip of his beer if it was at a bar. He’d always pick up on the way she smirked when he’d do that, always muttering in his ear a few minutes later how his “jealousy and bad boy attitude was fucking hot.”

Deciding he had enough of the way Takeshi kept looking over to her, Shingo called him over. “Oi, Nakazato, come here for a ‘sec.” He motioned him over with the cigarette he just lit to calm his stress. Takeshi had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind; Shingo sounded eerily calm for a change. This can’t be good. The girls looked over, hearing Shingo’s voice and (Y/N) smiled at him with a little wave of her fingers before turning her attention back to her friend who’s now leaning an arm on her shoulder and pointing across the street at something.

Takeshi approached Shingo, his hands in his pockets as he gave the Civic driver a nod in acknowledgement. “What’s up?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than hit up my girl?” Shingo gave him a pointed look of annoyance, his eyebrows arched as his eyes looked upward but his head barely moving, giving off a stronger aura of intimidation.

“You know she’s on our team, Shingo. The least I can do is be nice and strike up some conversation like I do with the rest of the guys.”

“You don’t give the guys that interested look you’ve been giving her for the last few minutes.” He paused, taking another drag of his cigarette, his tone remaining lower than usual, even with all the people chatting about. He didn’t want to draw attention and make a scene, potentially embarrassing his girlfriend if he had some outburst. Nah, this was strictly between him and Takeshi.

“Listen, I’m not trying to start some kind of split or anything with you two, I’m just interested in her potential as a racer. You’ve been teaching her the gumtape techniques, right? I was surprised she’s been learning it quickly and having to retrain herself in her braking style. ‘Mean... I have been curious how you scored her anyway; I was going to ask her that...” The R32 driver scratched the back of his somewhat bashfully, his cheeks a faint pink.

“Why the hell do you care so much about how I got her?” Shingo’s signature snarky tone resonated through his throat. Little did Takeshi know; it was her who got Shingo.

“Uh, no reason really… just,” Takeshi looked away, slightly embarrassed, “she’s hot you know? And talented.”

“Of course, I know she’s hot, dumbass, she’s my girlfriend.” He glared at Nakazato, not liking the idea of him staring at his woman so much. “So, if you’re done staring, which you should have been ages ago, why don’t you go try to pick up some other chick that ain’t my woman, huh.” He snarled possessively. “Out of all the chicks around here that admire and fawn over you cause you’re ‘so talented’ and have a ‘cool car’ you have to lay your eyes on my girl?”

Shingo noticed the way Takeshi side-eyed the road underneath them, (Y/N) did something similar when she knew she had been caught for something, whether it was for something light-hearted and playful or something serious. Shingo scoffed, “Seriously man? You seem to have all the women at your feet around here like you’re one of the fuckin’ RedSuns. Fuck, bro, you even have a thing for Sayuki even if she doesn’t like you and is a royal pain in the ass, can’t you go for someone else that isn’t (Y/N)?” He took another inhalation of his cigarette, this time quicker with an angry inhale and exhale.

“I’ll be damned if she has even the slightest notion of wanting to go for you. Just because you half-assedly gel your hair, listen to the same music bitches around here dig, and drive that shitty ass R32 doesn’t mean you can just walk in thinking you can win over my woman, got it?” he snarled viciously. He was seething and Takeshi could feel it rolling off the man in waves. Even his Civic, that sat silently, which he was sitting on the hood of seemed to be radiating a heavy form of malice that sent shivers down his spine. It was the same malicious aura Shingo and his ride radiated before the wreck and he still tapped bumpers.

Despite the chilling waves he was getting from Shingo and his car, Takeshi could pick up on the physical tenseness in the man’s muscles. His position on the hood of the Civic with his ankle sitting on his knee, rigid arms hanging over his raised leg. His head was tilted to one side slightly to get a better look at Nakazato, eyeing him up with a glare. Was Shingo really that scared of losing his girlfriend to someone else? The sheer possessiveness was also borderline protective with the words he unleashed like a spitfire. Like he was justifying reasons as to why she wouldn’t want anyone else. “Piss off Nakazato, you ain’t gettin’ her.” He said in another eerily calm tone; it was his final warning.

“Loud and clear, man. I promise I wasn’t trying to do anything; I just admire her driving capabilities. She learns quick is all – lets uh, just drop it, yeah? Sorry for bringing it up…” he raises his hands out of his pockets in surrender.

Just when the tension felt like it was finally going to die down and both men could get a second of peace and breathing room, one of the spectators noticed the two NightKids together. Approaching the two racers with his couple of buddies in tow, he speaks up.

“Aye, Shingo, how ‘ya been recovering man? Heard about that run in with the 8-6 during y’all’s race. How’d you lose to that junkheap and turn your car into one in the process?” he chuckled along with his buddies, looking back at them as they did so. The asshole wasn’t quiet with his announcement, gaining the sharp attention of Shingo’s girlfriend, not even fifty feet away. She watched silently, her head nearly turned all the way around while her body stayed put, like an owl stalking its prey without moving. As the idiot kept talking about Shin’s most recent fuck ups, she silently handed her coffee to her friend, turning fully and slowly stalking over with dark eyes, upper half and tilted head almost unmoving in contrast to her strides. The three men still cackling didn’t notice her at first until she stood right next to one of the guys on the left of the ‘leader’ of the group.

Feeling a presence next to him, he looked over to see a girl dressed in all black consisting of a punkish jacket, ripped jeans and combat boots, jumping back towards his friends at the sudden appearance. Her lip rings glinting red from the streetlamps and belt chains glistening and clinking slightly as she adjusted her hands in her pockets. Her eyes were narrow and dark, head tilted ominously as she stared up at them much like Shingo did to Takeshi. Being shorter than them in height, she found it to be a useful fear tactic. A few strands of her hair landed on her cheek, partially covering her eye. What freaked them out further was the fact she hadn’t blinked since she made eye contact with them. Her unblinking eyes then flicked to the so-called leader of the trio, daring him to speak.

Meanwhile, Shingo and Takeshi watched from the side. Takeshi could feel her silent anger, it nearly mimicked the same that came off Shingo not moments earlier. Shingo, however, smiled with amusement. The way these assholes talked a lot of shit, acting like the hottest motherfuckers around, only to start shitting themselves at his short goth girlfriend. Deep down he was grateful she always acted quickly to defend him.

“Would you be so kind as to fucking repeat that again? I’d love to hear it once more only to cut you off as I castrate those pathetic things you call balls. With. A. Spoon.” Her tone was low, deep, and her speech eerily proper for such an insult. She smiled at them, and they could’ve called it innocent if not for her eyes, murderous posture, and choice of words.

They quickly stuttered out apologies as they scrambled over each other trying to run off anywhere that wasn’t near her. Shingo stood up from his place on the hood, to come up beside her, wrapping his right arm around her back to rest his hand on the side of her hip, squeezing lightly as a silent notion to walk with him. She smiled warmly towards him, no longer holding hidden malice. Sneaking her left hand in his front right pants pocket to hold onto him they walked over to her friend who was snickering at the whole ordeal, calling them idiots and looking like deer in headlights that had enough brain cells left to run.

When it was announced that the race was coming to an end soon and the competitors only had a few more corners to cover, Shingo leaned into his girl’s ear. “Hey baby, why don’t we head out first and turn the downhill into a practice run for ‘ya, hmm? Go set up the tape n’ our phones, yeah? I’ll catch up to you in a minute and watch your form.” Kissing the shell of her ear, he handed her his phone and his keys. She nodded excitedly, practically prancing over to their matching EGs.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Shingo’s car she pulled the gumtape out of the glovebox cutting off two long strips. She called his phone with hers, pressing the answer button putting them both on speaker, then attaching the tape to the front of their phones, sticking his to the dashboard securely above the air vents. Doing the same to her phone in her car, she threw Shingo’s keys back at him as he reached the front of his car, talking with a few of the NightKids he was cool with.

Glancing over to her, he gave her a small swing of his head in the direction of the downhill with a cigarette dangling between the smirk he wore. She nearly giggled to herself as she hopped in her sleek black EG. Starting the car and exiting the parking lot slowly, avoiding the spectators still present, she pulled onto the road, the ecstatic sound of her engine reverberating through the pass. Shingo finished up his small talk with the boys, putting out his cigarette and starting the car, he peeled out of the parking lot, speeding along to catch up to his girl.

As (Y/N) cleared the first few corners she could see people on the sidelines ahead turning their heads in her direction as she sped the car around the corners and straightaways. Some commented about having never seen a black EG6 around Gunma before, let alone Myogi. After she had passed around the next corner, another Civic engine was heard, it was louder and the occasional backfire from the exhaust could be heard. The scarlet FR Killer drifted around the tight corner before recovering flawlessly, gaining speed and repeating the same maneuver. The dark aura it gave off as its headlights blinded the spectators' eyes, sent chills down their spines as they realized Shingo may not like having another EG6 to compete with locally.

Soon, his headlights appeared in her rearview mirrors, and she sighed in relief that he finally showed up. She was starting to get nervous and felt like she was going to mess up a corner if she kept handbraking to drift like she was. It always terrified her that it was going to spin out by using the handbrake to drift instead of the wheels like everyone else. He began closing the gap quickly and she felt giddier the closer he got.

The fact so many people were present put her under pressure as well. She braked and turned the wheel left, gripping around a corner, but slower than she did just last night. “You can take these corners a little faster baby, you’ll be fine.” She heard Shingo’s voice softly say from her phone’s speaker. Looking in her mirror again she saw his headlights getting bigger and could make out a bit of red.

“I know… this many people here are making me nervous… feel like I’m gonna fuck up. And the drifting still bothers me.” She sighed out, stepping on the gas at the start of the straightaway. His lights disappeared for a split second before shining back after a drift around the corner she just passed. At this point, almost everyone still on the sidelines watched the two EGs get closer together and they felt that same bone chilling aura come off the red one.

“Man, Shoji’s getting mad close to that other EG, you think he’s gonna tap the bumper like he does with the others?” one guy exclaimed, worried he was going to pull the move and they’d end up getting hit by the black mass of the new Civic. The word spread quickly down the pass with walkie talkies and phone calls that the NightKids second best was tailing behind the black Civic. All sorts of assumptions that he was reverting to his old ways of bumping into cars to make them lose control became the topic of the spectators. “But the black one is also an FF, it wouldn’t lose control that easily, bumped or not, right?” some would ask, others replying with, “If the driver isn’t skilled enough, anyone’s gonna spin out and lose control at a high-speed corner.”

The mass had mixed emotions, some being excited to see the FR Killer in action, and others worried someone was going to wreck and slam into a guardrail, taking others with them. As the two civics gained on the next corner, Shingo’s front bumper was at least only a few inches away from (Y/N)’s rear. “When we drift on this corner, pull the brake gently and only about a fourth of the way up to start, push it down some then back up again to hold the drift alright, baby?” Shingo instructed and she replied with a soft “Okay.”

They braked at the same time, entering their drifts in tandem. The crowd at the corner nearly shit themselves thinking Shingo had hit her, but someone called out with, “Holy shit, they’re drifting as close together as the Takahashi’s can!” The side of their car’s only inches apart and they recovered from the drift once again at the same time, and he held his position close behind her. Their engines roaring and growling in roughly the same tunes as they upshifted, accelerating down the short straightaway before repeating another drift.

“Damn it. I messed up those corners, Shinnn!” she whined, complaining that her line was off slightly. She heard him chuckle at the other end, “You did fine, hot stuff. You recovered outta that pretty well. Just keep goin’, I’m right behind ‘ya.”

“I feel like with you so close I’m gonna mess up a drift or something and take you with me. This handbrake stuff is kinda freaky, you sure we can’t drift with all the wheels like FRs if we put enough power in it to slide?”

“Nope. The slide comes from the brake; most effective way to drift our cars, sweetheart.” She groaned once more, him chuckling at her cute complaints.

When they reached the longest straight away of Myogi, he jerked the wheel to get in the lane beside her and line up their cars. He looked over at her, giving her one of those rare softish smirks she only ever saw when they were alone. She grinned, sticking her tongue out at him before locking eyes back on the road with a giggle. Rolling his eyes, he did the same and the crowd at the upcoming corner widened their eyes at the four headlights rapidly approaching them. “Why the hell are they next to each other now?! Neither can make a pass, the road’s too narrow here!”

“Shingo’s pissed, isn’t he? He seriously wants this guy off his home course.” Funny how no one outside of the cars knew of the little spectacle seconds prior and that Shingo’s supposed rival was a woman, let alone his girlfriend. “You’d think he’d appreciate another FF in the area, an EG6 on top of it, but damn, he’s really gotta be the best, huh?”

“Stay at the speed you’re goin’ and grip around the first half of this corner then pull the handbrake up almost halfway, release it, up again at a fourth, then down again. You know the wheel’s gonna give you that resistance, just keep pulling it right in small jolts, not too far though. Keep that left hand on your shifter and shift up to fifth just as you’re coming out of the corner, got it?” he instructed a bit more seriously, seeing as this was the largest corner on Myogi as well, providing the means for a longer drift. Replying with a quick “yeah,” Shingo braked first, taking his place back behind her and moving to the outside line, he copied her movements, watching her technique like a hawk and seeing her pull off a perfect drift and keeping the wheel resistance at bay beautifully. “Atta girl, baby.” he said proudly.

She smiled at his words, shifting to fifth gear and pulling out of the corner in tandem with him. The crowd’s jaws were to the floor, slowly looking at one another in disbelief. “Why do I feel like they’re working together…?” and “Man, I’ve got chills. I thought we were gonna die for a minute” came from several people.

Looking in her mirror, eyes landing on Shin’s Civic, she visibly relaxed. The sight of his car behind her always gave her comfort and reassurance when she was pushing her practices like this. He’s only ever bumped into her once and it helped to stabilize her when she began sliding too tightly. It was a practice night like this, no one on the pass and she started to turn into a corner too sharply, knowing she couldn’t pull herself out of it, he sped up just enough to tap the part of her bumper that was closest to him on the outside just before she started to slide and her car regained its grip on the road from straightening out some.

Since then, knowing he’s behind her and sensing if she does something too quickly or tightly, he’s there to buffer her. It was funny knowing the mere sight of his car in others’ mirrors meant trouble but to her it was a sign that her man had her back.

It didn’t take much longer for them to reach the end of the pass, and continue into the city, slowing down to the speed limits. They made small talk over the phone speakers, arriving home within minutes. Parking and taking the tape off their phones, they exit and lock the cars, heading up the stairs to their apartment. The second they cross the threshold of the door and the sound of it locking resonates, Shingo’s hands are on her hips, rubbing down to the back of her thighs and up to hold her ass. Squeezing the soft flesh he loves to revel in, she tilts her head up to look at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding her wrists.

“Something on your mind, sir?” she smirked knowingly, her eyes flicking between his own and his mouth as she bit her bottom lip, one of her lip rings disappearing behind her teeth in the way that drives him crazy.

“Call me that again and we’ll see where it gets you.” He growled, lowering his head to nip at her neck, his hands gripping the soft plush of her rear once more as she whispers his name with a drawl. Lifting her up, her legs instinctively wrap around his thin waist, and she can immediately feel the boner in his pants rubbing against her as he took them to their room. Dropping her back first into the bed, he hovered over her, intertwining a hand with hers as their lips met feverishly. “You are…” a deep kiss “so fucking hot…” another laced with tongue “when you drive.” He finished, breathily between kisses. Their tongues danced roughly, (Y/N)’s tongue piercing drew out the most enticing of moans from the man above her.

His hand travelled quickly to the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head, then quickly unhooking her bra, throwing it across the room. His lightly calloused fingers were already working at the button of her jeans and the zipper, yanking them down by the thighs as she helped kick them off, bending forward to take her socks off with them. Leaving her in only lacy red panties, she smiled up innocently at him, seeing his mouth looking like it wanted to water at the sight.

“Got a little surprise for you, Shin.” His eyes flicked up to hers in curiosity, silently prompting her to reveal it. She flipped onto her stomach revealing that it was his name in the form of English letters, strung across the top string of her panties, like a charm bracelet, the letters were covered in small diamonds. He nearly came in his pants from the sight alone. Looking over her shoulder, she watched his reaction. Biting her lip as he reached out run his fingers over the letter and lace, he growled out, “You’re really making it difficult to not rip these off of you.”

“Well, I intend on wearing them again, so if you take them off nicely, you can have me any way you’d like.” She said with that mind-fucking seductive tone. Inhaling deeply, he did as she said, with much restraint. Taking hold of her thighs he began to twist them, silently telling her to turn back over. She made herself comfortable, lying back down, hair splayed around her head. Shingo knelt and hooked her thighs over his shoulders, spreading them out just a bit further before he hummed, pleased with the sight before him, he dove in, licking a flat stripe up her clit. Hearing her gasp for a breath was only the start of his motivation. Digging his fingers into the muscle of her thighs, he changed his game, pointing his tongue to push into her, curling it up, swirling, and licking repeatedly. Each time her thighs tensed, he’d rub his thumbs against them, a silent command she’s come to learn to relax them.

Curling his tongue up, he pushed it inward, pressing against her clit, earning him a string of delicious moans and whimpers of his name from her pretty throat. He knew his woman inside and out. He would have her convulsing within minutes as he kept up his ministrations. Her thighs would tense and relax occasionally, her hands tugging at his dark hair, especially when he prodded at certain areas.

“Shingo.” She huffed out, her pants continuing and growing heavier as she neared closer to release. When he started thrusting his tongue in and retracting outward with an upward curl, her whines grew, thighs tensed to the point no rubbing was going to relax them, and her fingers tangled tightly in his hair.

His signature high pitched chuckle emitted from the back of his throat as he eagerly lapped up her release, kneading her thighs as he hummed at the sweet taste of her. Her sweet moans and whines were music to his ears. Pulling away from her as her convulsions lessened to nothingness, he wiped the remaining bits around his mouth with his thumb before sucking it off, eyes half-lidded as he held her gaze.

“Look at you. All fucked out and we barely started, pretty girl. You want more o’ me?” he hovered over her once again, gently brushing strands of her hair out of her face, soaking in her features and cloudy eyes. She nodded almost tiredly, mumbling “Always want you, Shin. ‘M never gonna get enough of you.” Her pouty voice and the way her arms lift tiredly to reach for his forearms, holding onto him limply, made his dick twitch, reminding him how painfully constricted he was.

“Move up and get comfy baby girl, you know damn well you’re gonna take all of me.” Pushing himself upright, he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it up his back and over, stripping himself of it completely. (Y/N) was nearly drooling at the lovely sight. No matter how many times she’s seen him take his shirt off that way daily, it always sparked many thoughts in the wide and deep rabbit hole that was her mind.

She barely processed how quickly he freed himself of his pants and tight boxers before crawling on top of her, the sensation of his deliciously hard cock rubbing against her soaked folds pulling her from her light daze. Instinctively, she hooked her leg over his calf, a known sense of comfort and closeness she’d come to love so easily. His lips kiss across the collarbone she has the Kanji of his name tattooed on. Being there when she got it, it’s his favourite tattoo of hers. So much in fact, he purposely nips and bites and sucks at the skin next to it, leaving his mark on her soft skin as he pushes himself into her slowly. Breathing deeply, she squeezes his arm with one hand and claws at his back with the other. “Relax, babe… squeezin’ me too tight.” He strained out, breath hot against her skin.

Stopping his movements he waited until she relaxed enough before grasping her hip and bottoming out inside her in one large thrust. The loud moan she rewarded him with was sure to wake the neighbors, but he didn’t give a shit. He had to reward his girl for driving so well earlier. Give her some more motivation to practice even harder tomorrow night. “Fuck, you always take me so well, don’t ‘cha sweet girl?” she nodded quickly, wanting more and wiggling her hips to gain even the slightest friction.

Giving into her wishes, and his own, he set his usual rough and fast pace. What he may lack slightly compared to others in girth and length he certainly makes up for with skill and that slight upward curve that hits her g-spot head on within seconds. Her head tilts back further into the pillow, eyes half-lidded and rolling to the back of her head as she moans Shingo’s name, though quieter than the first time. Her nails claw deeper into his back, leaving red marks, even drawing small bits of blood in some spots as he whimpers out “Fuck baby, God, this pussy was made for my cock.” His whimpers turned to loud whines as he continued to pump inside of her, his words, sounds and the feeling of his cock overwhelming her as she clenches around him and he releases a higher pitched groan, his fingers digging further into her hip, the other taking a gentle hold around her throat. His thumb lightly rubs the side of her neck, and she opens her mouth partially, the small tip of her tongue protruding just past her teeth to bite it at the lovely feeling of her new necklace starting to gently squeeze but not cut off airflow. Her eyes roll back once more, this time the full whites of her eyes showing, a breathy whine vibrating against his hand.

Recognizing the familiar pattern of her walls fluttering and clenching against him on top of the sudden pants and deep breaths she takes in, he rolls his hips, getting a slightly deeper thrust in earning a hiccup from her. “S-Shin…” she stuttered his name several times, not being able to say it completely. “I know baby, you’ll get to cum soon. Hold out a little longer for me, yeah?” his words turned raspy, along with his breathy groans.

“I can’t. I can’t Shin… wanna cum, please.” Small tears threatened to fall at the corners of her eyes when he increased his brutal pace. It felt like he was hitting places deeper than she thought existed. “Heh. Look at that baby,” He panted a few times, “really were made for me, weren’t ‘cha? Can see myself a bit in you.” His words confused her hazy mind, she turned her head to the side, to see what he meant, her side vision not catching anything out of the ordinary until he took one of her hands, covering it completely with his bigger one and placing it down on her lower stomach, applying some pressure where she could feel that region rising and falling slightly every time he thrusted in and pulled out.

Mumbling his name then a string of incoherent words, she weakly grabbed the arm he used to keep balance, trying her best to grasp firmly despite her hand falling repeatedly the more she tried to hold onto him as she came. The string of convulses in her walls, had him cum right after, a line of curses pouring out of his mouth. Shingo dropped onto his arm, using his forearm and elbow to keep himself from crushing her. They stayed like this for a couple of minutes before Shingo grabbed her thigh, lifting it so her calf would wrap around his back as he slowly rolled them over into a sitting position with her straddling his pelvis.

She groaned weakly, his still throbbing cock inside of her. He got comfortable leaning back against the headboard as he ran a hand over her hair softly, his other hand resting on the softness of her thigh, rubbing and kneading it lightly. Her head rested on his shoulder; face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Her arms hung limply at her side, but she didn’t care, he wore her out good.

Through the haze of her mind and the delicious soreness between her thighs, she could feel a small trail of Shingo’s cum leak down her thigh, sticking to her gently, a ghostly reminder of how good he treats her. She makes a small move with the intent to get up and try to clean up before she falls asleep, however her man pushes her back down onto his cock by the hips and she chokes out a small hiccup. “Hold on baby. Want ‘cha to stay like this a ‘lil longer, wanna feel you a little closer to me, yeah?” he says lowly, his usual raspy voice once again present.

She only nodded slowly, her senses focusing more on the feeling his cum drip further down both of her thighs now. Hiding her face deeper into his neck and pressing her chest closer to his, he chuckled seeing the dim shine on her thigh. “Mmm, made quite a mess of you, haven’t I?” his hand tangled in her hair, pulling it gently to the side to show her neck, leaving a teasing, light kiss on the sensitive skin. “Heh, nothing I love more than showing you that you’re mine, right sweet girl?” he adjusts his hips, making his cock shift inside of her, eliciting a high-pitched whine from his girl.

“Shh, baby. Can’t help but wanna feel the inside of you more. You’re just so fuckin’ warm… makin’ me wanna stay like this forever. Just wanna keep you nice n’ warm, keep you full of my cum n’ never let you leave.” His voice sounded so sweet and soft in contrast to his delicious, filthy words.

“Mhmm,” she hummed lightly, “Always gonna want you, Shin.”

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