#Interior and Exterior Detailing near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrymochin · 27 days ago

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𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑

synopsis- After the wind pillar sanemi shinazugawa bought you out from the brothel, things started to become a hassle for him. His heart seems to jolt sometimes; his breath hitches; tengen uzui, the sound pillar teases him out of no reason. What annoyed him the most was when you started appearing everywhere— in his thoughts, in his dreams but he didn't expected you to appear in the middle of his mission.....

Genre/ warnings- 18+ suggestive content, smut, marriage of convenience, dub-con, profanity, abuse, death, pregnancy, blood (tengen and giyu having their his best life teasing sanemi) minors don't interact.....

w.c- 4.8k (trust me once)

second part of 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 🎐...!

Here! Here get in! Get in!” the crow caws making circles above your head.

He brought you a long distance, it's almost evening and infront of you in this huge mountain, which the passers by referred to as ‘mt. kaikoma’— stood a shrine-like structure.

‘danna sama lives in a shrine?’ you thought.

The doors to the structure were made of wood with slight spacing, enough to take a peek inside. Curiosity leads you to follow your inner voice, peeking in through the gaps.

Your eyes widen, seemingly confused, the interior was totally in contrast to the exterior structure. While it looked like a small shrine from the outside, the interior was much more spacious. In the center of it was a lofty mansion, surrounded by corridors which are probably l-shaped. Certain plants joined the greenery among the little shrubs peeking from the circular courtyard with an open roof.

You spot a hint of pink. Maybe there was a sakura tree in there too.

“get in already” you stumble at the crows words. “ehh...is it okay to enter?” you say pointing your head upwards to look at the flying crow.

“do you plan to stay outside all night then?” your face scrunches up a little as the crow flew inside above the roof leaving you alone.

You opened the doors slipping in the estate. This time taking a proper look inside at each detail you pointed out before and amongst those— you gasped, there was indeed a sakura tree.

Upon returning, sanemi found the doors of his estate open and the corridors lit with lanterns. It's been two days since that incident. He was about to step inside the door frame, just when a rustling sound of leaves catches his attention. Having a demon near the estate of a slayer, especially of a hashira, was quite unlikely.

The estates of hashiras were situated carefully and not so far from each other, enough to conceal themselves from any demon attack and maintain a steady flow of training and maintenance of corps.

Stepping back, he grabs the hilt of his sword, turning around in a swift movement. “d-danna sama?!” You said, gulping as you notice him having his hand close enough to his katana to attack.

Sanemi's muscles unconsciously relax a bit upon seeing you. “why are you roaming around outside late at night?” he asked, removing his hands from the sword as speculative eyes watched you. “oh....I went outside after lunch for a walk and then lost my way...so it took a while.” you say lowering your head, fingers fiddling as you raise your eyes nervously.

Sanemi contemplated your image for a while, before turning back and entering the estate. “Get in.”

“ah...yes.”

“i will get the dinner ready for you as soon as possible. Please take a bath till then.” you said, closing the shoji doors. Sanemi eyed you from the corner of his eye before making his way to the bathroom.

Sanemi let the towel fall at his feet before soaking in the hot water. He had made a rash decision. Acting upon impulse was something sanemi never did.

And yet.

And yet he asked you to wait for him till he gets home.

Ridiculous. Sanemi scoffed at himself, realizing he could have turned away ignoring your cries. Or maybe he shouldn't have stayed the night over there at the brothel lady's request. A burning sensation crept up his ears.

‘Danna sama’ you've addressed, all his way back, he couldn't focus on one thing. He couldn't tell if he was terribly tired, overwhelming himself from all those missions or he was slacking off. “Nonsense,” he mumbled, “a hashira can never slack off.”

A hashira can never slack off— because they simply can't afford to do so.

‘Danna sama’ your voice resonated in his ears once again. For a second, he's not sure either you're calling him or he's just hearing things. Irritated, another sigh passes his lips.

But what will he do?

Sooner or later this news is bound to spread. What will he say to ubuyashiki?

“evening! Shinazugawa sama,” a deep voice reverberated among the damp air. Sanemi didn't bother to look up from the tub. He knew, sooner or later this was about to happen, “it's past evening.” said sanemi.

“oh my bad,” the crow of ubuyashiki announced his apologies from the small square sized window right above the bathtub, the sole source of little ventilation. “i suppose you already know the reason for my late visit,” the crow waited patiently for an answer. When none came, he continued “ oyakata sama wants to summon you at the headquarters tomorrow morning,” sanemi's eyes darted upwards, head still facing the water, “i hope you present yourself. Till then have a good time, shinazugawa sama.”

When the sound of the flapping of the wings trailed down into nothingness, sanemi realized he's gone.

Drowning himself completely in hot water, he tried to imagine the possible scenarios, which can happen upon confronting ubuyashiki tomorrow. What questions will he ask? Will the other hashiras also be present? Will ubuyashiki's voice still be gentle and calming, similar to his mother's, for him?

Unable to find an answer, and a shortage of oxygen pulls sanemi out of the water. Silver strands of hair, previously slithering in water, now sticking to his forehead as droplets of water dripped down his face.

He ran a big palm combing his hair back, getting out of the bath. Sitting there for this long is basically pointless. He dresses himself in a loose yukata, mentally preparing himself for the following day.

After arranging the dishes on the low table, you smoothen out your kimono as you take a seat on the opposite side of the low table. You kept the doors wide open so that you know if he's done bathing and is ready for dinner. This will be your first time serving dinner to him. All of a sudden you found yourself questioning if the food you made had enough salt, if the miso soup had the perfect texture, if the rice were evenly cooked. Settling your eyes on the corridors you waited for him, ignoring your heart beating like thunder in clouds.

Sanemi passed the corridor without even sparing you a look. “d-danna sama!” you rise abruptly wanting to stop him, “ won't you eat?”

“shinazugawa” he said, “and i would like to eat alone” he continued his tracks again leaving you dumbfounded.

That night went by shortly, you placed the tray in his room and left. For a second you wanted to ask him, if he's mad at you for leaving the house unlocked or wandering around in the forest after dark. However you say nothing but wish him a good night as you take your leave.

Upon waking up the next morning you found sanemi's room empty. Assuming he went to work early, you decided to skip on breakfast as you didn't felt like eating.

Two white haired girls played outside as sanemi waited for ubuyashiki to make his appearance. He felt his stomach churn a bit, walking back and forth, which came to halt as the realization hit him like a sword through his heart.

He was nervous.

“sanemi” , the voice of ubuyashiki, made him kneel impulsively. “my child, how was the mission? I hope you didn't get hurt.”

“The mission was fine. The demons were indeed lurking around that village; however, i killed each one of them.” sanemi wondered if this is the reason he was summoned. Or it's better to say he hoped this was the reason he was summoned.

“i heard you found a wife during the mission...” sanemi fell silent to his words. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about in the whole world.

“congratulations” said ubuyashiki. “it's not like that oyakata sam—”

“i know what happened sanemi......and I'm glad to know you saved her.”

The chatter of the girls turned to a distant laughter.

A hand caressed sanemi's head. It felt warm and fuzzy. Fond memories gushed in a sudden moment, as if it were his mother, caressing him for protecting his siblings from his dad.

“Sanemi,” ubuyashiki's voice trailed down like honey, soothing the wounds, which even he wasn't aware of, “do you know what differentiates humans from demons?” ubuyashiki guided sanemi by his shoulders, making him stand from his kneeling position. “it's our emotions. Our humanity. Our love.....no matter how much they try, they aren't capable of selflessness.” ubuyashiki smiles a bit, “its okay to show our emotions, sanemi. Acting upon it doesn't makes us weak.”

“oyakata sama”

“i'm glad to see you start a family. Maybe this way you will be able to mend the misunderstandings with your loved ones.” said ubuyashiki.

Genya. He was talking about genya.

“Amane and i would love to meet your wife. So will be the other hashiras. Bring her once she gets accustomed to her new environment.”

Sanemi bows as ubuyashiki takes his leave.

But she's not my wife. And before sanemi could say that ubuyashiki was already gone. He stood there, one eye twitching.

One of the white haired girls stumbled onto him. The girls bowed to him, so did he before leaving.

I'm cooked for sure.

Half way back home, sorai came cawing to him in a hurry. Extending his arm, he let his crow sit and catch it's breath before, gabbling on the reason for its appearance.

Sanemi half-expected a new mission on his way but what he didn't expect was, “The girl! The girl.... unconscious. The girl!”

Sanemi felt as if a Lightning bolt landed on his head, frying his brains. A million thoughts ran through his head. Forgetting sorai, he rushed back to his estate as the poor bird tried to keep himself afloat in the air.

The force of sanemi sliding the doors open, caused some of the wood to splinter as he strode across the rooms wanting to find you.

His movements comes to halt, when his eyes finally point out your senseless body, on the kitchen floor.

Something stopped. Sanemi didn't recognise it but it was familiar.

He grabs a gourd, bending down as he lifts your body, so that your head is laid against his chest. Sprinkling some water from the gourd, he taps lightly on your cheeks, as you slowly gain your consciousness.

Sanemi let out an exaggerated breath, relaxing his once knitted eyebrows.

“you okay?” the feeling of deja vu ran through your veins. You've heard this question before, in the same gravelly voice. Fluttering your eyelids open, you see those same lilac eyes, much closer than last time.

What happened? You thought.

A moment later you were stricken with reality— the embarrassingly close position; the heaving of his open chest, where your head laid; the way his face was so close that you had to fight off the urge not to touch and inspect his scars.

“y-yeah…I am,” you said, swiggling out of his arms maintaining a healthy space between you two. “then mind explaining how you got here?”

“ahh… I'm sorry to make you worry Danna sama….but you see—” you tried to change the topics.

“you don't have to explain, if you aren't feeling well. Let's take you to the kocho’s hospital….” he whispered the last part as if he was talking to himself.

But wait! Kocho? Who's kocho?! Causing your master problems such as taking you to a hospital would be so so wrong. What if he abandons you and then you will have nowhere to go.

You cursed yourself for skipping breakfast.

“i'm fine really….it's just that..”

“You don't seem so.”

“I skipped breakfast and got dizzy. Nothing serious. I apologize for making you concerned about nonsensical things.” you bat the breeze to him, not wanting to take this conversation any further.

For seconds sanemi says nothing. He eyes around the kitchen seeing the meals for lunch cooking.

“I will have lunch here. Get up and wash your face and bring the meals once it's done.” he says as you get a bit happy to avoid the hospital topic. “And you will have your lunch with me. Don't skip meals from now on.”

“yes.”

Sanemi left the kitchen to your privacy and sighed. You must've not taken your breakfast since he left early. He wondered if you had dinner last night.

The day went by fast and blurry. You are with sanemi and then he left for demon hunting. He told you to lock all doors and windows and burn wisteria incense before sleeping. “don’t wander alone at night. I will not be back before tomorrow evening…also there's something I want to discuss after I return…so you better not skip meals again and lie unconscious.” he said.

“Yes danna sama.” You replied before he disappeared in a blink of an eye.

As the sun rose high, you got down with your chores of the day. Sanemi was supposed to be returning this evening. However something didn't sit right, no matter what you were feeling anxious. He said he needs to discuss something with you. Will he ask you to go away? Will you be abandoned again? Just like your dad will he disappear too? Shaking your head out of these worries you return back mopping the wooden floors.

The day soon slipped away and it's almost night. There were no door knocks or any sound of someone approaching. Uncertainty filled your mind with lots of thoughts and unable to stop them you decide to step outside and wait for him, even though he asked you not to step out after sunset.

You make your way fast to the main door and slowly open it with a creaking sound. The pouch of wisteria was secured tight on your waistband and with a lantern in your hand you waited outside for him to return.

Few hours slip away again but there's no sign of any humane presence. You felt anxiety gnawing the insides of your stomach. Each second felt like eternity to you. He will be safe right? It's not like something happened to him. Right?

“master��hospitalized. Master! Hospitalized!” sorai came cawing to you. The lantern in your hands fell to the ground. It's light diminishing as tears started welling up your eyes.

You followed sorai for the rest of the path till you reached a huge estate, quite similar yet different from sanemi’s. In Front of what seemed like a main door stood a girl few years younger than you. Her hair had light streaks of blue, similar to the color of her eyes. She waved at you, “y/n san?”

“Where’s danna sama? He's not much injured is he? How did this even happen?” You threw a bunch of questions at her before she could even answer the first one.

“He's fine. I'm aoi. Follow me and I will take you to him. Okay? Calm down.” she said while escorting you inside as you follow her till you reach a corridor with several rooms. She opened the door of one of the rooms and signaled you to go inside.

Your feets felt heavy while walking. You don't know what took over you but even when you were already inside the room you couldn't look up at him. It's as if you know that you won't be able to handle seeing him hurt. “Won't you look at me?” His gravelly voice soothed your ears as you slowly lifted your head up.

His right hand was bandaged tightly. Some of it was even soaked in blood. Other than that it was fine. He was fine, sitting at the bed, looking at you with those same eyes. Relief washed down your entire body before you let out your breath which even you didn't know how long you were holding it for. You feel something wet on your face and when you bring your hands up to your eyes, wiping it off, it were your tears.

Sanemi’s eyes widened at you. “You said you will be fine.” Your voice cracks as you close the distance between you two. “I'm fine.” He replies gulping.

“Liar.”

“I'm not lying. I'm fine.”

“It will leave another scar.” sanemi eyes at you quite a while, before shifting his gaze to the moon outside the window.

“Do you not like it?”

Before you could answer him, a girl with purple haori patterned with butterfly wings, brought some medicines. “OMG! Y/n san are you?”

You nod your head smiling weakly at her. She's so beautiful. “I never imagined shinazugawa san getting a wife,” sanemi started coughing when the girl mentioned you as his wife. “I'm so happy. You're so beautiful too, I bet he got lucky!” You looked at sanemi who's avoiding your gaze, flustered wondering what to answer her.

“I'm kocho shinobu— the insect hashira.” ‘Oh’ you thought, so this was the hospital he was talking about last day.

“You don't need to be worried, the wound isn't that deep but it will surely leave another scar.” She said while fumbling with medicines.

“it’s nothing.” Sanemi grumbles.

“You shouldn't be like that. Even if the wound isn't deep it can surely catch infections.”

Shinobu chuckles at sanemi getting quiet at your scoldings. She redresses the wound and gives him some medicines. “Y/n san, I'm glad to be the first one to see you of all harshiras. I believe we can get along well.”

“Yeah, I'm grateful to you. Thanks for being so kind to me and danna sama.” Shinobu chuckles again, directing a teasing look at sanemi, who was currently admiring the ceiling, before smiling at you. “I will see you at the headquarters. Take care.”

You bow at her, in confusion. The headquarters? Sanemi, who might have picked up on your confusion, clears his throat, “our oyakata sama wants you to meet all the other hashiras. So we will be going to the headquarters this coming Sunday.”

“Oh.”

Sanemi hummed, still admiring the bland ceilings.

You got ready in a kimono, which sanemi brought you one random night and kept outside your room. You thanked him the next day and he just nodded. The kimono had blue flower printed over pink fabric with delicate handmade embroidery leaves. It was so beautiful that you almost felt undeserving of it. Today was the day he was taking you to visit the headquarters.

You were nervous. So was sanemi. He didn't met with any other pillars in the span of these days. And he couldn't even imagine how awkward it would be to meet one.

Sanemi wondered what iguro would say to him once he finds out about you. Just a few months ago he bluffed infront of him that he never intends to have a life outside slaying or even look for a wife. The fact that he wasn't bluffing, it was what he'd planned all the way. He never wanted it for himself. Rather he wanted it for genya. He wanted him to have a family, a family which sanemi could protect, a family which he could see flourishing.

But genya chose to follow his path.

Be a demon slayer when he can't even use a breathing technique. Everytime sanemi gets a news of him being sent to a mission, he gets anxious. What if—

“Danna sama…”

“Huh?” He saw you wearing the kimono he brought for you. And you looked beautiful. Gorgeous even. As if you were made of porcelain, pure white porcelain painted in several colors and polished till it glossed.

He gulped. Your neck was visible. It was slender and smooth. He couldn't help but wonder how'd it feel if it were kissed by his lips. His breath hitched as he directed his gaze away from you. “Let's go.” He said and without bothering to look at you he kept walking ahead with you following him behind.

The headquarters was an estate even bigger than the previous estates you'd been to. It's even bigger than the biggest brothel in the entertainment district. Its gates are even more magnificent than those of the wind estate. The gates are of polished woods and the courtyard was twice the area of the winds’. There was even a small fish pond at the right of the courtyard. Several trees adorned the scenery and after what seemed a long walk you came to see a group of people awaiting for sanemi. Their gaze on him pierced high. Among them, you spot shinobu kocho, the insect hashira and bow at her. She reciprocates your actions while another girl of similar age and pink hair squeals out of excitement.

Sanemi knew this was a bad idea. Considering he hasn't even cleared the misunderstanding of them thinking you are his betrothed. It's true he did buy you out from the brothel but he indeed had no intentions of getting a wife.

He didn't turn back once in the way not wanting to look at you. Even he didn't know why but the moment he looks at you it's difficult to look at anything else.

He felt iguro glaring at him. Worse even he could feel tengen’s grin and worse even giyu looking at him with his dead eyes.

“Y/n san! I'm glad to see you here!” Shinobu said smiling at you, which you gladly reciprocated.

“Hii! I'm mitsuri kanroji, the love hashira.” She greeted you with the biggest smiles.

“Muichiro tokito, mist hashira”

“I’m Himejima gyomei, the stone hashira. I hope shinazugawa treats you well.”

The other hashiras introduced themselves too and were busy chatting with you while waiting for ubuyashiki.

Tengen slapped his big palm on sanemi's back.

“Never thought I'd see you getting married. I hope you can please her well.” He says laughing. He was thankful you were at a distance far away enough not to hear him speaking nonsense. “shut up.”

“What? You do know how to please her…do you?”

“I know how to protect her.”

“Tch tch tch, protection isn't the thing you can always please a woman with. I knew it, you're a virgin, aren't you?” Sanemi almost choked on his own saliva. He again thanked you for being far away to overhear.

“The fuc—”

“Boy, I can teach you. I've got three wives and I'm experienced in pleasing them.” tengen cocked an eyebrow at him, whereas sanemi tightened a fist to throw a blow at him. Tengen dodged it away laughing. Iguro was flustered enough to be near them and didn't wanted to be part of it, so he trailed away to mitsuri. Giyu stood watching tengen laughing at sanemi with his dead eyes.

“What?” Sanemi asked annoyed.

“I think you should listen to uzui, if you're planning to keep a wife.”

“Shut up fucker.”

Soon ubuyashiki makes his appearance and introduces himself to you. “I see you've got quite lucky sanemi. Your wife is beautiful.” He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, so did yours but none of you could muster anything except thanks.

Everyone gave some presents to you as if welcoming you into their family. Something you didn't have ever since your father sold you off.

Tengen bent down his head to sanemi's level.

“You sure you don't wanna learn. You just gotta be skillful with your fingers and hip—”

“Shut up!”

“This is the fifth time you're visiting the hospital. How many times do I have to say there's nothing wrong with you?” Shinobu says annoyed that sanemi keeps visiting and disturbing the other patients.

“I keep having hallucinations. Hearing stuff and also there's problems with breathing. And my heart sometimes…it feels odd.”

“Does it? What exactly do you see, shinazugawa san?”

“l…I see y/n.”

“Let me guess, you hear y/n san’s voice. And your breath hitches everytime you see her and sometimes your heart beats rapidly around her and maybe you start to sweat too.”

“....yeah.”

“Please leave.”

“Huh?”

“Stop wasting my time and please leave shinazugawa san this is the last warning or k might just poison you.” Shinobu said, preventing the very thin line of her masked demeanor from tearing away.

Things have been weird. It's really weird. And it's becoming a hassle for him to keep up with his work. Or is he slacking off? No, a hashira can never slack off.

But he couldn't focus on training. During breaks he sees you, when you are at the estate. After slaying demons, on the way back home your voice echoes in his head. ‘danna sama’ it says. He's slowly losing his mind. He's having thoughts he shouldn't have. Moreover his hands are becoming sweaty and clammy around you. He doesn't want to be near you yet misses you dearly when you aren't around.

Something is clearly wrong with him, yet shinobu never takes him seriously.

Today he's on a mission again. A demon is seen lurking around an abandoned house, at the outskirts of Morikami village. He's supposed to slay that and save the village people. As per the kasugai crows, the demon is supposed to lure and feed on young boys. However the main thing odd about this demon is when one human’s abducted none are aware of one's disappearance until the next morning when the abducted persons clothes are found on random roads. It seems like the person’s existence is erased from people's minds.

The village people looked unhealthy as if their energy were sucked out. The air had a hint of sweet musks which isn't normal. Sanemi, while exploring the village and taking in the surroundings, felt odd and dizzy. The smell was bothering him too much.

Time flows by and the moon's out again, so will be the demons. Sanemi found himself a hiding place on an oak tree concealing his presence, keeping his vision tight on the abandoned houses. There were a bunch of them. He waited long for the demon to take action. However nothing happened. Confused and frustrated, sanemi got down from the tree, deciding to infiltrate each one of those houses and kill the demon.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, there were sounds, several sounds of people running. He turned around checking his surroundings, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. There was no presence of any humans. The surroundings grew more misty. Sanemi was about to turn back when he felt someone rushing at him. With one swift motion he swung the sword at the demon. It stopped midway, falling to the ground. It's head rolling upto sanemi's feet. He's dead. “Pfft shouldn't mess with sanemi shinazugawa…”

But wasn't it too simple? Before he could think any more, someone tapped on his shoulders. He turned swiftly ready to attack at any moment but halted his actions midway. It was you. Here in front of him in the middle of the night. His heart jolted again, you wore the same kimono which he gifted you. But wait, this isn't time to admire you. “didn’t I tell you not to get out at night! What if—” you put a finger to his lips silencing him. “Shh!” You blinked at him, slowly, your other hand lacing your fingers with him before you dragged him into one of those abandoned houses. Sanemi huffed out a ragged breath, his vision going blurry. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight gleaming on your iridescent skin. So ephemeral, so selcouth. He followed you like a lost puppy, without any protests. The only thing that lingered in his mind and in his vision was you. Soon you guided sanemi into the house, the musk smell was even stronger than before. Your hands now fumble with his clothings, stripping him out of his haori first. You proceed, snaking your hands around his shoulders hugging him. Your skin is ice cold against his erubescent skin. “I want you.” Your voice poured in his ears with echoing lucidity. “Yes.”

“I want you to be mine sanemi.”

“Yes.” Sanemi replied. You bring your mouth closer to his. Your lips inches apart to kiss. “Yes, have me.” sanemi closes his eyes, ready for you to have him.

To melt in your arms.

To be yours and only yours.

‘I want you to be mine sanemi.’

His eyes flew open, pushing you off his body, drawing himself back and away from you. Or shall I say what illusioned you.

You never addressed him as ‘sanemi’, even when he insisted you do so, you just kept calling him ‘danna-sama’.

A chill runs over his spine as he takes in his surroundings. Several dead corpses are laid here and there. Floor messy with blood. He looked back at you as his mind grew foggy again. He shakes himself out of those. “Come back sanemi. I want you.”

“In your dreams fucker.” Sanemi retreated back to the open fields as you cried out an ear piercing cry. It surely wasn't you.

“You sure seem to have good eyes, hashira. I will gouge them out and have them as cherry in dessert. Come back. To the one you love the most.” The demon's eyes were glowing lucent, luring him back into the abandoned houses again. Urging him desperately to give in.

To the one he loves the most?

Wasn't she behind the estates of wind hashira?

time for taisho rumours:-

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a/n- so sorry i forgot posting this. i hope you like this...pweaswwwee lol. i will do the third part with smut i swear. comments and reblogs are appreciated.

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coff33andb00ks · 3 months ago

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where i come from - LS

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader (lilli. it's lilli) summary: hitch a ride to the end of the highway where the neons turn to wood word count: 1.2k a.n.: the first of three small fics for my beloved Lilli @maxlarens Happy birthday my darling!! I hope you enjoy this little love letter to you (and to american road trips). inspo: all the road trip songs my family blasted during my childhood, compiled here warnings: it's not a waffle house it's a waffle home, author is in love with american south almost as much as Lilli's in love with Logan

"Logan, you can't be serious."

He laughs, parking the car next to a slightly bent light pole. "What? You want to see America, right?"

You press your lips together, staring at the small, flat building that looks as though it's been in that spot since the 1960s and hasn't been refurbished once. "This is America?"

"One of the best parts," he promises, climbing out. The balmy air of Florida immediately makes the car's cold air disappear and you sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt as he walks around to open the door for you.

"A Waffle House is America?"

"Trust me," he says. "You'll understand."

You do trust him, so you let him take your hand, sweat beading before you've taken two steps across the parking lot. There's a crowd of people near the door and you feel their eyes on you and Logan as you approach, the air thick with humidity and weed and tobacco smoke.

The interior is worse than the exterior. Your sandals slide with each step on the ancient tile floor and you can feel the grease in the restaurant. A bored server is leaning against a booth and hands you and Logan menus as you walk by, telling you to sit wherever. You want to turn around and go sit in the car, but…

Logan looks so fucking happy.

So you sit in a booth with him, ignoring the sticky spot on the bench that catches the material of your shorts. You ignore the faint aroma of tobacco smoke that lingers in the dining area. You ignore the yelling from the kitchen staff and the argument starting up between a couple at the counter.

The food is pure American stereotype. Sweet, greasy, and the portions enormous. But your first bite of the burger has you smiling. Because—

"Oh my god," you practically moan.

Across from you, Logan's grinning.

The server is pure southern charm as soon as she hears your accent, and you relax as you enjoy a meal big enough to last you an entire day. It's not great but it's good, and the atmosphere seems to shift.

He buys you a mug, telling you under his breath about a time his brother stole one because apparently everyone does that. Once outside in the sweltering heat, he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. "Welcome to America."

The road trip was his idea. It's the best way to see this land he loves so much and because you love him so much you agreed, and after a week with his family you're driving out of the Florida panhandle, the windows down and the music blasting, both of you singing Sweet Home Alabama at the top of your lungs.

He takes an exit off the interstate and you're already lost but he's content, speeding along unmarked country roads, past lush forests and rolling fields. He has to slow to a crawl for tractors, and every time a car passes he waves like the other person is an old friend.

Left or right? at every stop sign. No map, no GPS, just a whim.

A tiny shop – gas station, babe, not a shop – in the middle of nowhere is selling fresh peaches and the woman is so sweet and talkative you want to stay and talk all day. Her great aunt makes those crochet blankets you're admiring and before you know it you've got three draped over your arms.

"Where y'all headed?" she's asking as Logan pays.

He shrugs, smiling that bashful smile that made you fall in love with him. "Nowhere, really."

She gives the vaguest yet most detailed directions to a motel – you're gonna wanna drive thataway til you see the old rusted school bus? Then take a left and keep driving til you pass the turnoff for the highway. It's down on the right. If you get to the stoplight you done went too far – and Logan gives you a look as you bite into a fresh Georgia peach.

You smile.

More rolling fields and woods. Farms and family homes and kids on swings. He gets to the stoplight and you both laugh all the way back to the motel.

It's tiny and has almost zero amenities but it's clean and the window overlooks a small field of wildflowers. You take a shower and when you come out there's a jar with a bunch of wildflowers in it and you smile at him. You've been smiling so much the past couple days that your cheeks ache.

He finds a place to get dinner and you feast on what he says is pretty okay bbq but you think is the best you've ever tasted.

The next day you're better prepared, and you fully enjoy the rambling tour of the countryside, relaxing with each passing mile. Feet on the dash, singing along to Fleetwood Mac and Tom Petty and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Songs that are familiar and songs that he knows every word to and you are still learning.

Lunch is a picnic, thrown together with gas station sandwiches and bags of chips, sitting on one of the blankets you bought yesterday by a river. You want to enjoy the scenery, because it is as beautiful as he always told you it was, but all you can focus on is him.

He looks so happy. You've seen him happy, of course, but lately he's been downtrodden. Anxious. And you sit there, watching him as he talks about maybe making it up into North Carolina by sundown, seeing how relaxed he is.

And you fall a little in love with this spot of the world that heals him.

"You love it here," you say softly after a bit of silence.

Logan nods, looking out to the river where it disappears into the trees. "I do."

"I'm—"

"I love sharing it with you more."

Oh. Oh. Your eyes are burning and it's not fair that he can drop the sweetest lines when you least expect them even though by now you should expect them because he always does and—

"Lilli?"

You blink and he's moved to sit right in front of you. "Logan?"

Why does he look worried? Your mind scrambles, thinking something must be wrong. He feels ill, or he just spotted some venomous snake slithering nearby or—

He shifts and you glance down, seeing the ring sparkling in his hand.

Later you'll remember every word he says. How his hand shakes and his voice wavers while he tells you how much he loves you and how happy you make him. But for now all you hear is the river splashing over rocks and birds twittering and the breeze ruffling the leaves of the oak tree. And all you can see his eyes, shining and bright and beautiful.

There's hot sauce on his fingers and yours are gritty with salt. His lips taste of salt and vinegar and there's an ant crawling on your leg, and he's apologizing for not giving you some grand proposal, but you don't care. You're glad he asked you here.

"I love you," he whispers, forehead resting against yours and you feel the sigh that exhales his worries.

He worried that you'd say no. As if yes wasn't on your lips before he said the words.

"I love you, Logie."

#f1 #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #logan sargeant x reader #my writings > ls

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fuzzyclink · 2 months ago

Text

Rules and Regulations

A self indulgent one-shot Ceo!Au fic to celebrate the launch of Keir and Cirrus's second chapters tomorrow!

Tags: Cirrus/Reader, degradation, unethical office relationship, abuse of power, power dynamics, spanking, glove kink, pain and bruising, bad BDSM etiquette, gender neutral reader, reader body not described.

Link to AO3 version

You had been so desperate to find a job in your new city that you hadn’t been especially picky. You’d moved here as a last option, relocating because of the world-renowned hospitals in this area. There was an experimental study opening soon that focused on your life-threatening condition, and you knew that it might be your only option. Certainly, the bemused expression of the so-called “experts” in your hometown had discouraged you from staying. Your condition didn't even have a WebMD page. So it hadn’t mattered to you much at the time that all your funds went into renting a moving truck, paying the deposit on an apartment, and boxing up all your belongings. You had arrived, penniless, and sought jobs as quickly as possible - applying to everything and anything that you could convince a recruiter you’d be good at. You just needed some income while you waited to hear back about whether you were eligible for the medical trial.

Applying to Crescent Consulting had been surprisingly easy. You’d uploaded your resume online, answered a few questions that MAYBE were some kind of personality test (the question “What does the full moon mean to you?” had definitely seemed a little strange at the time), and were offered an interview a few days later.

You pressed down your nerves as you approached the company. You were dressed in your least-wrinkled interview clothes, pulled out of a cardboard box the night before. There hadn’t been time to unpack everything. The exterior of the building was grand. Silvery glass extended high above you, the blue sky reflecting mirror-like off of the eighty floors of windows. The interior matched the prestigious exterior. All around you were gleaming stone floors, elevators that smelled like new carpet, well-groomed and refined staff, and chandeliers that likely cost as much as your apartment.

Crescent Consulting was on the third and fourth floors of the building. You speak to a receptionist near the entrance and she ushers you into a small, private office to the left of the door. You smile politely as the hiring manager seated inside looks over your resume, asking about your experience, your career goals, and previous successes and difficulties. Pretty standard stuff. The pay and benefits seem good too. You try to recall the information you’d read about the company, peering down at the job description you’d printed out and brought with you.

“From what you’ve said, I think this company would be a good fit for me,” you say, trying to infuse your words with an air of confidence you didn’t really feel. “. . . but the job listing was a little sparse on details. Would you mind going over exactly what this position would entail?”

The routine atmosphere of the interview dissipates. The interviewer grows far more serious, fixing you with a stern look over the rim of their tortoiseshell glasses.

“This position is essential to the success of our company. Crescent Consulting is directed by Mr. Cirrus. As our CEO, he leads us, guides us, and makes decisions that keep us at the forefront of consulting in this city. He’s an exceptionally talented man.” She regards you with her steely gaze as if you would dare challenge her statement. You nod at her meekly.

She shifts in her seat. “But he’s also exceptionally busy. Too much of his time right now is taken up by scheduling things, answering emails, filing documents…we’ve all tried to help where we can, but eventually, it became clear that it was time we hired someone to do it full-time. So, that’s where you come in. The job position is to work as his assistant. He has exacting tastes, and expects the finest work.”

You can practically see the job opening slipping away right before your eyes. The words spring from your lips.

“I assure you, I am someone who is deliberate, detailed, and focused. Crescent Consulting is my top choice and it would be an honour to assist Mr. Cirrus as he continues to lead such amazing work.”

She nods at that, relenting a little. “We’ll hire you for a probationary period. Let’s see how you do after a week on the job. If your work is satisfactory - and Cirrus takes a liking to you, we’ll offer you a full contract.”

After that, the first week goes by in a blur. You’d seen Cirrus’s emails and calendar plenty of times, but hadn’t even met him face to face. They gave you a cubicle in the corner of one of the floors and you toil away diligently, working your way down a seemingly endless list of tasks. The hiring manager was right - there was plenty to do. You spent your time reading the employee handbook, completing new employee training, learning about the different clients, trying to remember which employee names and titles, and archiving documents that hadn’t been looked at in years. You’ve just started working on a summary of consulting projects completed in 2017 when you feel a presence just over your shoulder.

You jump in your chair as you spin around looking up to see a man looming over you. He’s tall and lanky, even taller from your current position. Long white hair slinks down over his shoulders, stopping near the waist of his suit. His accessories stand out against his dark clothes - a gold metal snake that encircles his finger, two chain bracelets that glimmer from beneath the cuffs of his sleeves, and thin hanging earrings. A tailored waistcoat highlights the way his broad torso narrows at the waist. The man’s arm rests casually against the wall of your cubicle, a thin pen between his fingers. He's undoubtedly handsome, imposingly so. You finish taking him in and meet his gaze, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Hurriedly, you introduce yourself. “I'm very sorry, I didn't notice you there! I’m a new hire, I’ve only been working here for week, I don't believe we've met?”

Surely, you'd be able to remember someone who looks like THAT.

“I thought it was about time I came to meet you,” he says politely, watching you through nearly translucent lashes. “You've already begun to prove yourself useful to me.”

“Oh, are you… Cirrus? I'm really thankful for this opportunity, sir, the company seems great and everyone has gone out of their way to be helpful…” flustered, you’re immediately thrown off your game. So this is the man you work for. You had to admit, you'd assumed that Cirrus was some older, stodgy executive- someone thoroughly unattractive. It was shocking to be confronted unexpectedly with someone so… well, different!

“I'm glad to hear it. It's important that Crescent Consulting cultivates a welcoming environment towards newcomers.” He spins the pen between his fingers a little, playing with the clip on it. “How are you finding the work so far?”

“It's been easy enough,. It seems like it's just a matter of checking over everything carefully and making sure that -”

His pen falls from his hand with a clink, sharp and startling against the waxed tile floor.

You bend in your chair, leaning to pick it up without a delay. You hand it to him, reaching up. It's hard to miss the way that his eyes flick from the pen in your hand to your face, but he takes it without comment.

“Please, reach out if you have any questions. And ask the hiring manager you met with earlier for the full employment contract. You're a good fit. I look forward to our work together.”

And just like that, you're officially hired. ------

The next Monday, you're at your desk for only a few moments before his shadow darkens your screen. Cirrus, the same outfit as you saw before - dark and stately in the fluorescent-lit office. His placid smile is at odds with the weight of his presence, a heavy, frozen thing that spills out through the weight of his shoulders and the cant of his head. It urges you to bow to him. Or grovel, your mind unhelpfully supplies. You end up half jumping out of your chair before settling back into it and dipping your head in acknowledgement. Embarrassing.

"I emailed you a list of tasks on Sunday for you to begin this week. We're entering into our busiest quarter of the year, so I'll be depending on your work. As always, please reach out to me if you have any questions."

"I've already skimmed through it to familiarise myself with the tasks before I arrived today." You smile up at him a little. There's no need for him to worry about your accountability. You want to do well. Especially for him.

…But only because he’s your boss, of course.

He responds with a gentle nod towards you. "Good. Eager to get started, hmm?"

“I'll send you an update on what I've accomplished by the end of the day. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to meet your needs, sir."

His hand falls onto your shoulder for only a moment, fixing you into your chair. His golden eyes dart towards yours, serious. “Let’s start with the list for now. Don’t want to exhaust you before the end of the second week.”

With that, he leaves, returning to his office. The firm press of his hand lingers on your shoulder. You raise your own hand to it, fingers ghosting over the sensation. Would meeting his needs really be exhausting? You’re determined to dispel any doubt he may hold about your capabilities.

As you adapt to your job, your list of duties starts to expand. The hiring manager wasn't kidding. Cirrus seems to be particular about everything. He cares about the scent of the soap in his bathroom (lavender), the way he takes his tea (no sugar, one and a half creamers), and the height of the window blinds in his office before he comes in each morning (lowered to the height of your knees, raised to shoulder level after lunch). Rather than resenting the numerous rules, you find joy in the structure they give your day.

And he certainly is gracious. He’s kind to you, thanking you for the tasks you complete. Polite, yet reserved. Always controlled and professional. His occasional praise makes you glow a little. It's proof that he notices and cares about the effort you put into your work. It's a little addictive. It drives you to be increasingly exacting, hoping to impress him. You find yourself wondering whether there’s something hidden behind that polished facade of his. He reminds you of a Greek statue. Beautiful, unyielding, and with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

You find yourself staying late at the office recently, struggling to get everything done during the day. Eight hours doesn’t seem like a lot of time when it’s stretched over so many tasks. But Cirrus stays late too. Your coworkers file out of the office one by one until it’s just you and him in the building. The light shining through the frosted glass of his office door there to keep you company. You remember the first time you stayed late. You had sat in your mesh desk chair, bones stiff and weary from their long hours of inactivity. The sound of his office door opening had been a welcomed interruption. Cirrus wore his coat, warm wool fitted closely to his body, and was in the process of pulling on leather gloves. He hesitated on his path out the door, clearly surprised to see you.

“I hadn’t realised you were still here,” he had said, coming around to your desk.

“Oh, I’ll be heading home soon, sir. Just finished summarising the documents I received this afternoon so you can look them over tomorrow before your morning meetings.”

“Such a devoted employee.”

His smooth, rich voice sent shivers down your spine. You laughed it off.

“It’s no trouble to me, sir, I like to be kept busy.”

“You’re not keeping anyone waiting at home…?” Sharp eyes had betrayed his interest in your response.

“I’ve just moved to the city, so no - living on my own for now. I can stay as late as I need to. Haven’t really had the time to try and meet anyone.”

“That’s a shame. We’ll just need to make the work here worth your while then, hmm?”

You nodded at him, and he had left, sliding the gloves the rest of the way on his hands.

His questions made you wonder if he cared about your dating life. That was the first personal question he’d asked of you. You’d certainly wondered about his - but no wedding band was seen on his hand, and no family pictures in his office. You kept your ears and eyes open for information after that night. You would ask a coworker but given the speed of the office rumour mill, you were sure he’d learn about your prying questions. After days pass without clues, you doubt it. After all, he spends the most time with you out of anyone. With the long hours he keeps, he’d struggle to find the time to meet a partner, just as you have. You can practically imagine his response. I’m married to my work, he’d say. That is, if he wasn’t offended by your impudence.

As the month goes on, you shadow Cirrus more and more during his daily tasks. He started by requesting that you take the minutes for his meetings with clients. It's simple enough and you enjoy getting a better idea of the actual objectives of the company. Plus, during quiet moments, when he or the client refer to documents about their work together, you get the chance to really look at him. The slender line of his neck. The way his muscled back can be seen beneath the expensive fabric of his shirt, shifting as he leans over the table to read. The soft pink of his lips, through which you can see pointed canines flash as he speaks. You see why everyone at Crescent Consulting has such a reverence for him. It’s electrifying to be swept up in the energy and admiration that surrounds him. He's impeccably focused on his tasks and clients are thrilled with the work he does for them. Good thing that you’re kept busy. Spending so much time near him is becoming increasingly distracting.

You're just coming out of one of these meetings, a little breathless. The client had spoken exceptionally quickly, stuttering and prone to long tangents that left your head spinning. You’d done your best to take notes, but you’d definitely have to edit them later on in the afternoon. At times you'd just slumped over the table, desperately listening and typing as best you could as the conversation ricocheted between the two of them.

“My office, please,” Cirrus requests, as controlled and peaceful as ever. Immediately, your pulse jumps, anxiety spreading through your body. Cirrus hardly ever asks to speak with you privately - he’d email you, or casually drop by your desk to discuss business. Even confidential matters about his work were discussed between the two of you during your meeting together every morning, not off the cuff.

You step inside after him, pulling the door shut. His office is a place you’ve grown familiar with, though never comfortable in. It was always too quiet. The decor is utilitarian and minimal. One side is entirely windows, partially covered with blinds. A coat rack near his door has a few discarded wire hangers from dry cleaning. There are etched glass awards on his mostly barren bookshelves. A whiteboard is fixed to the wall with a scribbled timeline on it. Cirrus’s desk in the middle of the room, empty except for a few folders and a chair across from it. You choose to hover awkwardly in the doorway. It feels safer, like you could escape if you needed to.

He takes a seat behind his desk, the expansive piece of dark wood now separating the two of you.

Cirrus regards you coolly as you start to pick at your fingers.

“I've been quite happy with your work up to this point, don't be mistaken. However, as my assistant, your conduct and decorum reflect directly upon me.” He steeples his fingers in front of him. “Clients notice if you have poor posture. Clients notice if you wander ahead of me in the hallway or speak out of turn. Clients notice-” his gaze falls to your fingers, picking nervously at the edge of a nail, “-when you fidget”. Your hands still immediately.

You knew that he was aware of you. But you hadn't realised that he paid such close attention to the behaviours you displayed. Had you really acted so unreasonably? Had maybe a client confided in him, or expressed their displeasure with you? Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

“I'm sorry sir, I haven't been on my best behaviour as of late. I'll work on improving my posture and habits in the office. I hope it hasn't negatively impacted your work…”

A smile streaks across his face. Sharp, furtive, misplaced, and gone as you peer at him nervously.

“Please see to it that you do,” he replies. There's a lightness to him, an excitement that pulls at the edges of his expression. Something dangerous. “That’ll be all.”

Your hands, sweaty with nerves, pull open his door and you exit quickly. It's the first time you've really been reprimanded by him. How could you have let yourself grow complacent? Still, it seemed unfair. You drop down at your desk and pout a little, staring unseeingly at the backdrop of dolphins on your computer monitor. You already do so much for him and follow all his silly little rules, and now he’s getting on your case about fidgeting? What is this, finishing school? Your thoughts swirl as the day goes by. It was embarrassing to be called out on your behaviour. But moreover, it was embarrassing that you had become increasingly reliant on him and his praise. You hadn't fully realised it up until he withdrew it this afternoon. You'd become dependent on him too quickly. He’s just your boss. Nothing more beyond that. And why did his expressions in that conversation seem so… odd? It was unsettling.

After that conversation between the two of you, Cirrus’s expectations skyrocket. Every day there are new rules. New subcategories that emails need to be sorted into, preferences on the alert sound for his calendar notifications, the type of lightbulb for his desk lamp, the way you structure your notes for him. It feels endless. And at times, when he gives you feedback - always in that same controlled and polite tone - you catch a glimpse of that same fleeting expression you had seen earlier. You're diligent, dutifully noting down each preference as they come. You walk two paces behind him in the halls. You mind your tone, your facial expressions. You sit at meetings rigidly, still and quiet unless addressed. Your frustrations at his restrictions, once something small and easily cast aside, grows by the day. The amount of care that you direct towards your work is immense. Cirrus is polite to you. Often kind. But the structure from the rules that once felt supportive now feels like a tangled net, restricting your every move. You feel taken for granted. The majority of his requirements are silly preferences that you're sure have no influence on his (or the company’s) success.

When he interacts with others in the office, however, things seem easy between them. They fawn adoringly at whatever he says, and he replies to them - always calm and kind. You find yourself a little disgusted with their eagerness. And it's quite simple for them, isn't it? They do their basic job responsibilities and he praises them, values them. That same response from him requires such an extreme amount of effort from you. You scoff to yourself. They might not admire him as much if they ALSO had just gotten an email that read: “In the future, please only order Oleander Co.’s organic fair trade oat milk creamer in low fat. I prefer it over the brand you currently purchase.”

You are capable of the work he asks you to do. But your sense of justice rankles at it. It's not fair that he asks such an astronomically higher level of work from you. At times you wonder if he delights in messing with you. It seems inevitable that one day you’ll forget one of his many rules. You're not sure exactly what makes you decide to do it. The last sliver of your pride, perhaps.

You order a different type of soap for his bathroom. Your courage wavers a little when you go to order, so you decide on lilac as a replacement. Suitably similar to lavender if you need to defend yourself. It's silly how nerve-wracking it is. You've never directly gone against anything he’s asked you to do. And it’s just soap, after all. You doubt he’ll even notice.

—---

You place the soap in his bathroom that next Monday after it's been delivered. You look at it, where you’ve set the bottle neatly by the sink, evenly spaced from the wall. You spin the label to face away from you before you leave. Cirrus and you have your morning meeting, as usual. He’s just the same as ever and you find yourself both relieved and disappointed. You’d expected some kind of reaction from him… some reprimand maybe, or a reminder. Something to show you again that he sees you and your work. Something to break the pattern that you’re in with him. But the meeting ends quickly and everything remains as it did before.

You’re seated at your desk, about to head to lunch, when Cirrus stops by.

“A word, please. Now. Follow me.”

He’s very still. Nothing about his face was kind or gentle.. A coworker at the neighbouring desk glances up at you, startled, before they catch themselves and pretend to be engrossed in their salad.

You stand abruptly, silently, fingers fumbling with the notepad on your desk for a moment before you decide to leave it.

You follow him to his office. Two steps behind him, of course, posture, impeccable. Your hands, forbidden from fidgeting, are held stiffly at your sides.

He shuts the door firmly behind you. The click of the lock is grimly final. The bottle of soap is on his desk. You exhale, shakily.

Cirrus leans back against his desk, the bottle next to him. His arms are crossed. You’re not truly afraid until you see his expression. His eyes hold a wildness to them, intense and sharp. The mouth, normally in a polite smile, is stretched wider, sardonic. Your unease grows when you see there's even a light flush across his cheeks. His finger taps rhythmically where it rests along the edge of the desk. His entire appearance has an electricity to it that arcs off of him in waves.

“Explain this to me.”

Your fear is tempered by the frustration at your mistreatment. “My apologies, sir, I seem to have made a mistake. There’s a lot of work I’m doing currently, I must have simply selected the wrong one.” Your voice is deliberately polite but you’re unable to hide your irritation.

His wicked smile grows. “You’ve never ordered the wrong one before.”

“Yes, well, I know others make mistakes here, too. I don’t see any of them called into your office over something like this, I mean, it’s, it’s - I do my best, sir, I apologise if it’s just not enough for you.” Your cheeks are hot from the defiance burning within you.

The tapping of his finger ceases.

“I'm quite certain it wasn't a mistake. No. Not from you, my star employee. Always obedient. Always careful. Attuned to my preferences, my rules for you. When I restricted your decorum in meetings, I wondered if I had gone too far. If maybe - you’d recoil. Hmm.. instead, you grew more pliable, eager to please. Desperate for my praise. Willing to be moulded by me. You question me, why I ask more of you than the other staff here. Well, my star. It’s because you enjoy it. And,” he draws closer to you, less than an arm’s length away, “because I can.”

All the blood in your body seems to leave you and you sag, leaning against the wall. Suddenly, everything becomes clear to you. The constant increasing requests. The minute details he requires you to remember. His attention to your posture, your every mannerism. Each of them feed into his power over you. And the part that makes your heart pound and ears ring is that he's completely correct. You crave it.

He takes in your shocked expression with something akin to glee.

"So eager for me. And now, acting out. Silly little ploy to try and catch my interest. You've already had it. Had it from the moment I met you, when you leaned down and handed me that pen. I wanted to see if you would. If you'd bend for me, right from the start. Don't I give you enough of my attention? Or would you like something more concrete - a reminder you're mine?"

It feels almost impossible to speak but you try, urging your breath back into your struggling lungs.

"Please, sir, I - I…" A reminder that you're his. You are his. The way you speak, the way you walk, every hour of every day, all in service to him. Intoxicating to learn that he's orchestrated it this way. Cirrus has seen you to your very core and it is paralysing.

He raises his hand to your throat, fingers soft, and pins you against the wall. "Don't worry, my star. I'll give you what you desire. Even if words have failed you."

His touch is nothing more than gentle pressure at the base of your neck, but the sensation makes you release a choked gasp.

"Something to remind you, hmm? I'll give you a gift then. Pretty bruises that you can take home. "

Cirrus's hand is tighter around your neck now. Your pulse hammers against his grip. All you can do is nod, the edge of his thumb sharp against your jaw. He releases you, taking a step backwards. His cunning eyes scan the room.

"Place your hands here."

He gestures to the whiteboard and you stumble after him, legs trembling. You place your hands flat on the surface, just below shoulder height, glancing at him questioningly. He traces around your fingers with a marker, outlining each hand in red. It reminded you a little of grade school art projects, and the absurdity of the situation makes your face flush. What if this was all some kind of cruel joke, just to see how much you'd agree to?

His voice breathes low in your ear. "It's in your best interest if you don't smudge any of those lines. Do so and you'll leave with more than just bruises."

Immediately, the levity drains out of you. "I'll try my best, sir."

His hand smooths down the plane of your back. "You always do."

Behind you, you hear him walk over to the coat rack by the door. You twist, your hands fixed in place, and watch as he pulls on his fine black gloves. The leather shines softly in the light of his office.

"Please attempt to be quiet. You know how much the office ladies love to gossip."

You grit your teeth and turn, facing the board once again. Watching him was too much. You close your eyes and exhale a long, shuddering breath.

He brings his hand down swiftly, your clothes and the gloves muffling the sound where he strikes your behind. It's ferociously hard. The force of the impact rocks you forward on your toes and your eyes fly open, checking the lines around your fingers anxiously. A dull ache answers the sting that spreads through you. Your desire spreads too, burning. You'd known he was strong, assumed it from the way he fills out his impeccably tailored dress shirts, but the power behind the slap surprises you. Your breath hisses through your teeth.

A second strike comes, placed right where your butt meets your thigh. It's harder than the last. It forces a gasping yelp out of you, barely stifled through your gritted teeth. Your hands curl just the slightest bit on the board. Your breath comes faster now, panicked. Legs twist where they stand, shying away from him, unable to fully move with your hands pinned.

"Excellent. You're doing well."

He has said that to you so many times before. When you’ve finished your work early, when you've taken minutes for meetings, when you've reminded him of some small important detail. You'll never hear it the same again.

Cirrus waits to deliver the third strike and you try to anticipate it, flinching at every small sound he makes from behind you. He laughs at that, watching you closely.

"Patience."

When he hits you, it spreads across your skin, burning where it lands. You bow forwards, leaning away desperately. The sensation after the strike is just as bad - a second wave of pain that makes sweat prickle at your forehead and brings tears springing to your eyes.

"In my haste, I forgot myself," he muses, stilling behind you. "How can I see when I've fulfilled my promise?"

He slides your clothes off your waist, the air of his office cool on your skin. They bunch tightly around your thighs. You hunch forwards between your arms, humiliated. You're sure that your behind is just as flushed as your face. One gloved hand traces over the reddened skin, the leather like a soothing balm.

The next strike is more targeted, hitting right where your skin is the reddest. The sweat on your hands causes them to slip just the slightest bit on the board and you rock back towards him, trying to lift the weight off your unreliable arms. The outlines remain complete for now. You throb, each heartbeat bringing with it another crashing wave of pain.

"Fuck."

"You know better than to curse around me. Haven't I made my expectations for your etiquette clear?"

He smooths one hand over you, just below the small of your back. Your skin sings at his touch. You feel the weight of him follow, the hard plane of his body pressed up against you. His hands grip your hips. One slides up the front of your chest, pausing for a moment at your throat. It continues, gloved fingers finding their way into your mouth. The bitter taste of leather follows. His other hand grips your hip tightly. He presses down on your tongue, making you gag. Your saliva slicks the material. Cirrus's breath is hot against your ear.

"I'll help you behave yourself."

He withdraws his fingers from your mouth, smearing the wetness across your face. When he moves to the side, you catch the first glimpse of him since you placed your hands on the board. His flushed cheeks are the only sign of his exertion. Not a hair is out of place. You watch through teary eyes as he bites the tip of his gloved hand, pulling the leather from his skin. The glint of his sharp teeth shine from between pink lips. Glove off, he presses his fingers cruelly into your cheeks, prying your lips open once again. His removed glove is pressed between your teeth, silencing you. The material is thick, forces your jaw to spread.

He hits you again before you're really ready, ungloved hand anchored on your hip. The force of the blow shoves you forwards while Cirrus's nails dig into your hip bone, leaving deep grooves. A muffled sob breaks free. Your hand slides down the board, erasing the lines surrounding it. You stumble forward, gasping. His hand creeps under your bent waist, supporting your weight.

Cirrus lays into you without any reservations. He spanks you, hand crashing down again and again. You thrash, hands clutching desperately at his supporting arm where it lays steel-like against your stomach. Twisting, flailing, as he brings you back in line. Drool spills down out of your mouth from around the fingers of the glove. He kicks your legs apart when they clench together before beginning again. The blow blend together. You are ablaze. Writhing in his arms. Needy with desire and aching all over. Your eyes are a mess of tears and you gasp desperately around the glove, nose running. Both of you breathing hard, he takes a moment to examine you before pulling the glove out of your mouth.

"I think you'll be pleased, my star. Once you've come back to yourself. Proof of my ownership pressed into your skin. You won't be able to sit without remembering whom you belong to."

Every part of you throbs. Pain, pleasure, and obedience all searing through your veins in equal measure. You're limp, resting nearly your full weight against him.. You cry softly, stuffy and worn out.

"Come here," he tells you, as he hefts you towards the chair behind his desk. As if you'd have the strength to deny him. He sits and reclines the chair fully, laying back. He holds you against his chest. A moment for you to calm down. You press your damp face into the safety of his shirt while his arms rest softly around your shoulders.

"You shine in your obedience to me."

His voice is quiet against your hair. You lay there, boneless, listening to the gentle thump of his heart. Feeling the solid ridge of the button of his vest imprint itself on your cheek. Gradually, you come back to yourself. Breathing in his scent as he continues to hold you. You test your limbs, achingly shifting them. Wipe your eyes softly against the back of your hand. A sharp cry springs from your mouth as your raw skin scrapes against the material of his pants. If the way you feel is any indication, you’re probably covered in speckled bruises, soon to shift into blooms of blue and purple. You flinch as you feel a scarlet bead of blood inch down your inner thigh. He shushes you, hand coming up to card through your hair.

“Does this mean things have changed between us?” Your plaintive question hangs in the air.

Cirrus’s hand stills. “It doesn’t have to. Continue to serve me. I won't mark you where others will see.”

You nod at that, accepting it without complaint. He was to remain your boss. At least for now, you find yourself thinking. You long for something more. And you suspect he might feel the same, though he’s reluctant to admit it. His rules, so many designed to constrain and rankle. The attention he pays to you. His satisfaction from putting you in your place. Those fleeting moments of tenderness. Nothing about it was casual. Perhaps, with time - and enough tactical disobedience - his commitment to professionalism will crumble. It’s a challenge. Rules and regulations then. A path to something more.

#obscura fic #cirrus x mc #cirrus obscura #obscura vn #cirrus #Ceo!au #cirrus x reader #cirrus x vesper #obscura visual novel #obscura #obscura cirrus #let me know ur thoughts! and i hope you all enjoy chapter 2<3 #giving jumin han energy #jaehee I'm sorry

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sangyeonsmuse · 3 months ago

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BUTTON EYES

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | All Chapters

PAIRING | OT8, MC SEONGHWA

WORDS| 2k

GENRE | Coraline au, angst, suspense,

SUMMARY | What happens when Seonghwa returns to the home he was once fond of as a child? This time around making his return as a full adult with the company of friends. Nightmares and old friends return and the button eyes that Seonghwa desperately escaped as a child have returned to haunt he and his friends.

WARNING | Graphic descriptions, mentions of death, ghost children, witchcraft, grsphic nightmares, arson, lost memories

MORE | Based on the childrens novel & Henry Selick film Coraline

Before i go any further i want it to be known i am in no way claiming Coraline as my own. I wrote a concept for a part 2 or spinoff long ago and I just felt that it was time to finally put it to use. I do not own Ateez or any Coraline named Characters in this story but the Storyline is indeed a self made one.

The entire day consisted of unpacking from the moment the sun began to rise to the minute twelve of midnight hit and the moon began to rise. Upon finishing up with the unpacking Seonghwa found himself sitting near a familiar bay window he once sat at as a child. He had been sitting there thirty minutes now trying to wrack his brain to think up any proper memories of his time there, even if it were to be one successful remembrance he tried hard. Breaking him from his thoughts there was a sudden knock at his bedroom door, breaking his gaze away from the window his dark orbs landed on none other than yunho.

"The last of the boxes are unpacked and mingi and jomgho have finally finished arguing over who gets the room down the hall.'' he chuckles as he enters seonghwas space and looks around.

"And how did that end?" seonghwa spoke up as he stood from his spot at the bay window

"It's Jongho, what do you think? One finger flick and Mingi would have been done for.'' The two laughed as Yunho took a seat on Hwas bed.

"I assume this is the room you would frequent whenever you'd visit? You were quick to enter this one when we first began to look around." Yunho eyed Hwa curiously as he moved about the space

"Honestly dude I don't really know, it just felt right to be in this one..for some reason it seems like im a stranger here, no matter how familiar it feels i can't seem to attain one memory of the past since we arrived here.'' he sighs as if having given up on trying to remember a thing.

"Maybe you just need time to adjust again after all it has been thirteen years. Maybe sometime tomorrow when we're fully settled in you can look around for some old photo books or something.'' Yunho assures him as he gets up from the bed

"Yeah you're right I should just give myself time to readjust.'' Yunho gives him a pat on the back as the two exit the room and make their way down the hallway. As the two made their way downstairs they could hear mingis loud voice complaining about the lack of food in the kitchen, followed by Jongho yelling and calling him a dumbass reminding him that they had literally just moved in hours ago. As if on cue the doorbell rang and to Seonghwas surprise an unfamiliar blondie stood on the other side of the door.

"Ah can we help you?'' Hwa asks the boy, quite confused at the sudden meeting of the handsome stranger.

"Ah are you seonghwa? Hongjoong said that you guys might be hungry so he asked me to cook something, he would have brought something by himself but something came up at his work so he didn't exactly have the time.'' The blonde male seemed to glance around the home curiously, slightly in awe as his eyes were finally taking in details of the interior rather than just the exterior.

"Ah, sorry about that come in, um your name is what by the way?'' Seonghwa asks as he steps aside and pulls the door open, allowing Hongjoongs friend to enter his home.

"Oh right Yeosang kang yeosang, i live in the house a few miles from here, the one on the hill that you can kinda see when youre making your way here down the dirt road.'' The man's curious eyes seemed to take in as many details of the home as he could, only stopping when Mingi poked his head out of the kitchen doorway and cried out thanks to the gods as his eyes landed on the food in his hand.

As the four of them filled their stomachs accompanied by the man they now knew, Yeosang Seonghwa finally addressed the boy's curiosity he seemed to have for the place.

"You seem interested in this place..I could always give you a tour if you'd like. I mean a friend of hongjoong is a friend of mine.'' he spoke leaning against the counter beside the blondie.

"I wouldn't let San hear you say that, you surely wouldn't be getting rid of him if he heard those words.'' Yeosang responds with a chuckle before looking over at seonghwa whose brows furrowed slightly at the mention of the unfamiliar 'San'.

"Ah right you haven't met San, i'm sure the two of you will cross paths eventually, anyways if you wouldnt mind please do show me around this place that fascinates me.'' Yeosangs eyes sparkled in delight at the mention of a tour. The mansion that had held so many secrets, the mansion his grandfather had warned him to stay away from, he found fascinating.

As the two walked the halls Seonghwa couldn't help but bring up what Yeosang had said back in the kitchen, about the old manor being fascinating to him.

"Hey if you don't mind me asking, back there in the kitchen you said the place fascinated you what exactly did you mean by that?'' Seonghwa asks expectantly, though Yeosang seemed taken aback at the question he didn't look at him as he answered.

"I've heard stories about this place from my grandfather, Though you haven't met San or wooyoung their aunts have told them lots about what they know of th place too. There were also many rumors going around as to why you left. My grandfather would always speak of voices from the walls or the sight of little children no one had ever seen before running through the woods behind the manor. He always told me to stay away from this place but the fascination only grew the more he told me. There was this thing he'd always say and of course I never understood. I always thought he was quite insane. 'The mice whisper at night, they tell me secrets of the woman that lives there, she doesn't seem to be very nice' he'd always say.''

"Mice? Your grandfather wouldn't happen to be the old man that was obsessed with the idea of having his own mice circus? Um Mr. luwensky?'' Seonghwa asked a little unsure of the name he provided in all honesty, he wasn't even sure if the old mice man he suddenly remembered was even a real person.

Yeosangs eyes widened at the mention of his grandfather, even if he had gotten the name wrong the fact that Seonghwa actually knew of his grandfather only strengthened yeosangs curiosity of the place. "Bobinsky , He said he had known the kid that lived here but i didn't think he was being honest when half of the things he said involved the 'talking mice'"

"He would get cheese deliveries here on occasion so i have been to his house a few times but i had never known him to have any children or grandchildren, back then i always thought of him to be a weird old man with a mice obsession.'' Seonghwa laughs and shakes his head, a smile decorated his face knowing he was finally able to remember the smallest of memory from his younger days

"Yeah I would only see him occasionally, when my parents died I moved in with him at the age of thirteen. It was an interesting experience to say the least but his influence has definitely sprung curiosity when it came to this old house.'' Yeosang continued to take in the home's details as the two went about.

"You said that he spoke about voices in the walls? And the woman that lived here no being very pleasant what did you mean by that exactly?'' Seonghwa asked curiously they were details of the house that he himself hadn't remembered

"I don't know exactly, which is the entire reason i've always been curious of the place, there were lots of things grandpa would say that i never really understood by the things he spoke about this place were always the most confusing.''

"Ah I see, well that's pretty much it for the tour, some rooms are still locked and we havent really had much time to go through and air out every single room." Seonghwa motions him to follow him back downstairs as they had finally finished up with the manor tour.

"I guess the place is normal after all, another one of grandpa's fantasies i suppose but still it was an honor being allowed into the place." Yeosang thanks Seonghwa once again before saying goodbye to the others.

"Hongjoong said to give you this in case you ever need anything, this has both of our number in case you need it and if you ever need anything he lives in his grandmas old place still, you now know where i am if you ever find yourself needing anything. We'll be by tomorrow just to see how you guys are and maybe go into town if you guys need.'' He bids them all a goodbye before leaving the manor.

That night Seonghwa found himself having an experience he hadn't had since he was thirteen. The night terrors that always sent him running to his parents room, they slowly began to trickle back

He was an outsider looking in, a witness to the hanus and horrid acts of she, the woman that lived many years ago. It was as if she was vapor, the air they breathed. They could not see him but he saw their every move. As he krept closer to the scene to confirm what his eyes had landed upon he found himself passing by a mirror. By quick glance Seonghwa found himself looking at his eleven year old self. Dismissing the image in the mirror he pushed past and moved in closer to the scene. The horrified screams of a child rang through the air as the button eyed woman tied them down and began to sew their mouth shut. Seonghwa opened his mouth to scream in horror but to his demise it was followed by silence. A silent scream for help, a silent plea for the woman to stop yet the harder he tried to scream it seemed the more the woman hurt them. Quicker than Seonghwa could blink the head of the woman as well as the child snapped towards him sending chills down his spine. The absolute terror in his tear filled eyes was prominent. It was as if he was now frozen in place, being stuck there he was forced to look on. He could now see all damage that had been done far before he had arrived upon the scene. The scars, the thread, the blood...the light blue buttons filled as a replacement for the eyes of the child.

"Help me Hwa, don't keep me here" the small boy called out to him before a high pitched shriek rang throughout the room. He then clasped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. He wanted to forget what he saw, to disappear and that was exactly what He had done disappeared or so he thought. Seonghwa shot up in his bed, Sweat running down his forehead and tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes as he brought his knees to his chest. The nightmares he had as a child were nothing compared to that one. Back then the night terrors were all the same, ghost children with button eyes,or a woman in black but never anything like this, this one was much worse. Just when he began to tell himself it was just a dream there was a knock on his door and in came mingi.

"I don't know if you heard that but i refuse to sleep alone, you, Jongho and Yunho downstairs immediately we're sleeping in the family room.'' it was the only thing he said before leaving Seonghwa alone once more to bask in the memory of the dream he had moments prior

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ferronickel · 10 months ago

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Story time! So, back in the tail end of 2020, I was in San Francisco working on a movie. We were just filming exterior shots and stunts with a bus because all the interior stuff had been filmed in another (less covid-y) country, but the movie was set in SF and it's a fairly recognizable city, so there we were.

Now, my job was to scan/photograph the path that the bus took before, which was about fourteen blocks of the city. This meant that most of the time I was near to where we were filming, but separated from the rest of the crew. Now, if you've never been near a movie filming on location, a lot of people tend to gather around to see what all of the fuss is about, and if you're doing Bus Stunts TM, people are very excited to find out everything they can.

This meant that just about everyone walking by wanted to know what we were working on, and I was an easily identifiable target for questioning. I'm usually happy to talk about my work, because it's interesting (I think), but I never know what I'm allowed to say, especially when working for The Mouse.

So I just made up a movie. It had to make sense though, to fit the kind of work we were doing. There needed to be a bus, with stunts, and I had to make sure to say the actors were in a different country so that people wouldn't get more interested to see what was happening.

This is how Speed 3, starring Adam Driver, was born.

Every time I talked to someone I tried to come up with more details about this fictional movie, and I was really hoping that by the time we were finished shooting there would be some rumors on the internet (which unfortunately never happened). Flash forward to today, when my boss reminded me that I used to do this, and I had fully forgotten that this movie did not exist.

#speed 3 #someday it will happen #maybe if I tell enough people we can get a whisper campaign going #the movie we were actually working on was Shang-Chi #that was a fun one #ferrousfilm #ferrouslore

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worldbolding · 2 years ago

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I Like Outer Worlds: Spacer's Choice Edition So Far

Some random Outer Worlds version comparisons. Both screenshots taken on the Xbox Series S, just to show that even the weakest of the new consoles still displays a big improvement. The PS5 version does look better, with additional rendering resolution and shadow detail over the lil' Xbox.

I hope I can format these right. The old 2019 screenshots are on the left, followed by the new ones.

All of the lighting and material work is dramatically upgraded and changed, as you can see from these barrels in an early room. The lighting here is now more dramatic and realistic, and the barrels have a proper material sheen to them that reflects the surroundings. The old scene looks bright, but kind of bland by comparison. This sort of change echoes across every interior in the game.

Again, here is a comparison of the cargo hold in the Unreliable. The new version of the game is darker and moodier in these interiors, and I really like it. It more accurately reflects the amount of light that would actually be in these spaces, and I think the newly enhanced and overhauled colors still retain the whimsy of the original game even with this more intense lighting.

Every character face in the game has been reworked with new skin and texture detail. This is the first guy you meet, and it's much more apparent with later characters that I'll show in upcoming posts. Particularly the older characters. The detail around armor is improved. The character faces have more polygons in them but still look pretty good rigged up to the old animation.

In the original game, the characters all had the same magical three point lighting that would pop on as soon as you started into a dialog. In the new version the lighting on characters more accurately reflects the places they're actually located in.

Exterior lighting is completely redone just like the interiors, and is in general more colorful, vibrant, and accurate to sun placement. The volumetric cloud system is cranked up more than on older consoles, providing more clouds at a higher resolution. There's also a ton more "stuff" outside everywhere with lots of additional foliage, ground cover, and other new bits. This makes locating dead enemies to loot a little harder than it already was in the older version, but I think the additional stuff is nice-looking.

This extra exterior fluff and the general lighting overhaul are probably why this is running slower when the two versions are compared on the same PC. Adding more effects to a game makes it run slower. Who would have ever guessed that?

I'm really enjoying this so far and I'll probably do a short follow-up post just to show how much wrinklier and baggier the older characters now look.

This is a great version of this game, but it's not a mind-blowing new next gen spectacle. It's better than if they had just bumped the resolution and effects up, with plenty of new assets and lighting work, but nowhere near a full remake. Even on Series S, you'll see a big difference if you make the upgrade.

On PS5 the shadowing is more detailed and plentiful, and the rendering resolution is much higher. It also has some really cool trigger/haptic effects on the DualSense.

When I finish the game, I'll probably write a full review on Medium. It'll likely be positive. I've seen complaints about stuttering in the 60FPS mode, but these were all taken in the 30FPS mode for max graphics goodness. This game was never a flawless performer in the realm of stutters before so expecting perfection from a version with more stuff crammed in is...surprising, but hey I'm just me and I only have my thoughts.

#gaming #Outer Worlds #Xbox

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denimbex1986 · 9 months ago

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'Andrew Haigh’s (‘Weekend’) emotional, near-indefinable and multi-BAFTA-nominated new film ‘All of Us Strangers’ – a ghostly story of love and loneliness set in an eerie but very recognisable London – lands like a blow to the solar plexus. You think you have its measure, even as lonely screenwriter Adam (Andrew Scott) embarks on a journey back into his own childhood, searches for a sense of himself, and falls hard for his mysterious neighbour (Paul Mescal). Then the credits roll and you find yourself sobbing on the floor. And, well, maybe you didn’t.

It’s a movie, in other words, that contains an ocean’s worth of emotional undercurrents. And if you’re a Londoner, you can double that. Adapting Japanese novelist Taichi Yamada book ‘Strangers’ and switching its Tokyo setting for London, Haigh creates an almost imperceptibly off-kilter London of soulless apartment blocks, disconnection and loneliness, and adds a wealth of autobiographical detail to the story. For all that, it’s a London film that’s full of love for its setting – and it’s the adopted home of its filmmaker, who was born in Yorkshire, lived in the Midlands for a time, but has lived here since graduating uni aged 18. ‘I love it in London,’ he says. ‘You have your history around you, your life growing up.’

All of that personal history is poured into ‘All of Us Strangers’, which completes the filmmaker’s loose trilogy of films about love, alongside ‘Weekend’ and ‘45 Years’ before it. ‘Those two are about the beginning and end of love, and this one is about its power and – not to sound idiotic – its cosmic importance,’ says Haigh. To make it, he did something almost unprecedented and filmed in his own childhood home, as well as another old haunt. As he tells Time Out, the ghosts were behind the camera, as well as on-screen.

1. The haunted East End tower block

‘All of Us Strangers’ introduces Andrew Scott’s struggling screenwriter Adam as the (almost) lone resident of a new apartment block. ‘Initially, we chose a building in Vauxhall,’ explains Haigh, ‘but it was run by a multinational corporation and they would never let us [film] there’. Instead, the exteriors of Adam’s tower block were filmed at a new tower in Stratford, East London. The buzz of the city is seemingly just out of reach for the lonely writer. ‘The rest of London is out there, but it feels a bit distant,’ says Haigh. ‘I liked that feeling for the character: it should be great, but the building is not embedded into London yet and that can feel especially isolating.’

2. The entirely fake stoner apartment

Confined spaces being fiendish to film in, and Adam’s apartment not being palatial, Haigh opted to film the interior scenes – where Adam and Harry hang out, have sex and get stoned – in a specially reconstructed ‘flat’ on a Wembley Park Studios soundstage. ‘Your brain just adjusts to it,’ remembers Haigh. ‘You’d walk in and think: oh yeah, we’re in an apartment.’ Plates of Adam’s actual views were projected onto the windows. ‘I hate green screen,’ he notes, ‘but you can’t shoot on a 22nd-floor apartment because they’re not very big and I wanted the light to move. Everything in this film is a representation of how Adam is feeling: the light and the movement of the clouds is all part of it.’

3. The nostalgic ’80s family home

A time-travelling train journey into the suburbs of London takes Adam back to his childhood home, where his mum and dad (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) are there to welcome him. In what may be a movie first, these scenes were filmed in Haigh’s own childhood home in the London suburb of Sanderstead: ‘I left that place when I was eight or nine and I’ve never been back,’ he says. ‘You see Adam lift up a photo [when he’s trying to find the house], and that’s a photo of me and my mum, with Claire Foy in place of my mum – I used that photo to find it. When I walked in there again, it felt like a haunted house.’ Strangely, the filmmaker’s old boyhood eczema broke out during filming. ‘I thought: maybe it’s the fucking house!’ laughs Haigh. ‘The film is about how we store traumas, big and small, and it felt like my body was physically reacting to how I felt when I was younger.’

4. The full-on, legendary dream club

To break him out of his isolation, Harry takes Adam out for a ketamine-fuelled night on the tiles. The club they wind up at isn’t specified – there’s a deliberate vagueness to ‘All of Us Strangers’ London settings – but it was filmed at another old Haigh haunt, the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. ‘I spent many nights there in the ’90s,’ says the director. ‘We saw ourselves as gay indie kids, so I’d go there and to Popstarz and Ghetto behind the Astoria.’ The 50-year-old has mostly given up on clubbing these days, but still knows what feels real and what doesn’t. ‘I wanted to get across what it’s like to be in a club: it’s exciting and you feel together, especially in a queer context, but it can be complicated too.’ The result was two 12-hour days, with proper disco tunes booming out and a sweaty crowd of up-for-it background actors to make it all look real. ‘It’s exhausting and it’s so loud, but it’s the only way to do it,’ says Haigh.

5. The eerie, unsettling Tube carriage

‘All of Us Strangers’ isn’t Haigh’s first foray into London locations. His 2009 debut ‘Greek Pete’ was filmed quasi-guerilla style in Soho, and at one stage, ‘Weekend’ was going to be set in South London (‘I wanted that to be a tower block too – there was one near Clapham Junction – but we couldn’t get the money in London,’ he explains). It was, however, his first time experiencing that old staple of romcoms, thrillers and action movies: a scene on London Underground. ‘I wanted to use the Central Line, because it has the right glass [for the reflection shots] but there’s loads of people on it all the time, so we did it on the Waterloo and City Line,’ he says of the scene in which Adam travels across the city. ‘It’s closed on Sundays, so we filmed then. The track is so bumpy to film on that by the end of the day, everyone was feeling sick.’

While he has nothing planned yet, it’ll take more than a spot of motion sickness and a few other logistical trials to stop Haigh returning to London for a future project. ‘It’s expensive to shoot in and it’s complicated and there’s no fucking parking anywhere,’ he says, ‘but I love London so I'm sure I'll film here again.’'

#Andrew Haigh #Weekend #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #BAFTA #Taichi Yamada #Strangers #Waterloo and City #London Underground #45 Years #Wembley Park Studios #Sanderstead #Royal Vauxhall Tavern #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Greek Pete #All of Us Strangers

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