#Nine Cent Girl
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ninecentgirl · 29 days ago
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A Retrospective
In a heartbeat 2024 will come to a full stop and we’ll run straight into 2025 but before that weighty ball drops I’d like to reflect on the last very full 12 months. Towards that end, I selected 4 standouts posts of the 50 I wrote, each a fan favorite, highlighting some significance of my year. How about it, want to journey back with me? Oh, lets! Continue reading A Retrospective
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leaveharmony · 3 months ago
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Tosh, respawning after getting killed seemingly at random: "Why is that guy shooting at us?"
Me, after I'd fishtailed wildly across open desert far enough that I no longer saw red on my radar: "Well, Tosh, while you were over there I was looting this pile of guys I killed, and this asshole came up behind me and grabbed me in a choke hold, so I elbowed him in the gut, punched him six times, kicked him in the balls, gut-shot him point blank with my sniper rifle, called the horse and ran like hell before he respawned, but you were still standing there so he shot you cos he couldn't catch me. Got my hat, though."
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arctic-hands · 7 months ago
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Like I get we really had no choice to buy Payless and Walmart shoes when I was growing up bc I was the youngest of three kids and we were impoverished by my medical bills. We learned the hard way when my grandmother dropped sixty dollars for some skechers I liked at the beginning of summer only for me to hit a growth spurt and no longer fit them by the end of summer. But those shitty cheap shoes that began to fall apart after 3 months and had thin fabric insoles from the start had to have contributed to my shitty back and knees. Like I know chronic illness played a bigger part but it can't have helped
Also Vimes Theory Of Boots–because these shoes were disintegrating after a few skant months, we were constantly dropping more and more money to replace them than we would have if we could have just afforded good shoes from the start
Anyway this isn't to shame anyone who is too poor to afford good shoes, esp if you've got a kid or kids who are growing way too fast, but this is why as an adult I scrimp and save and look for sales on good shoes because ow my knees. It's a real shitty system we've got that kids are growing up with chronic pain just because good shoes are too economically inaccessible to families
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maaarine · 3 months ago
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Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)
"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.
British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.
Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)
But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.
It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.
“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.
“The boys?” I asked.
My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.
“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.
“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”
“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”
“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”
The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.
“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”
“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”
“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”
She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.
“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”
“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”
I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”
As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”
“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”
“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”
I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.
I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.
And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."
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ivysprophecy · 3 months ago
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Not so good surprise.
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warnings: talk about nipples, nipple piercings, mentions of sex and boners? i think that’s it. obvious cursing.
word count: 728
an: hey guys!! so this is my first time posting in a long time but both my friend and i @kimoralov3 wanted to write little blurbs about jj reacting to nipple piercings so please go show theirs some love!! warning this is unedited so i hope it’s not too incoherent
"JJ! Baby are you home?? I got ya a surprise!" you walk through the door with a sneaky smirk on your face, setting your bag on the couch as you walk in.
He walks out of the bedroom adjusting his hat on his head, his eyes clocking your chest the second he looks at you. His mouth is a gap, unable to look away from your chest.
"What's that?" he points at your chest accusatory walking closer, his eyes not moving.
"What's what baby?"
"That- those- right there- those-," his finger reaches out poking at your erected nipple causing you to let out a small yelp raising your hands to cover them.
"Woah! Owe- shit baby you can't touch them yet! They're so fucking sensitive- shit that hurt."
And with that his eyes finally move from your chest up to your face, bulging out of his sockets.
"Shit mama I'm sorry- wait- pause. Time out baby, did you just say I can't touch them yet??"
You nod amused at his reaction, wincing a little at the lasting ache, "Yea, you gotta wait a couple months to let them heal."
"Well how long is that supposed to be??"
"The guy said anywhere from 4-9 months."
"NINE MONTHS??" Your poor boyfriend is flabbergasted, wounded, physically pained by the news. You could swear you see tears swelling in his eyes. "Wait- wait wait wait wait. You're telling me some random guy did this??"
"I mean yea- I had to go to a professional. It just happened to be a guy."
JJ in all honestly couldn't care less if it was a guy or a girl, he's just pissed that it wasn't him who got to do it, to be there, to see it, to see them.
"So I can't touch them at all? Until their all healed up? Mama that's too long... I can't kiss 'em? Touch 'em at all? Shit-" Poor guy is in agony, quite literally spiraling at the thought of not being able to have his hands on them. With or without the piercings. "Doesn't seem like a good surprise mama."
You can't help but laugh at him honestly, he's quite literally almost in tears.
"Are you sure about that baby?" he's about to give his two cents and complain before you carefully lift your tank top over your head and tossing it on the couch next to your bag. "How about now."
Now, the boy is silent. Stuck dead in his tracks, mouth open like a fish out of water gasping for air.
"I know they're a little bruised and swollen so they look funny right now but-"
"Shhhh sh sh sh-" He interrupts you putting a finger to your lips, looking down at them in admiration. Again you can't help but giggle. Your boyfriend has never been one to hide how he feels about anything, usually dramatically as well. "Holy shit mama- look at 'em they've got little jewels 'n shit- look so pretty mama. How am I supposed to not touch these? So beautiful-"
"Well if you want you can help me clean them but that's the closest you're gonna get."
"How do you clean 'em?" Frankly it was adorable that he was so desperate that he was willing to learn.
"I've gotta take a cup, put some saline in there and tilt it back onto them a few times so I can wash them out good- it actually looks kinda silly-"
"But when I do that I can touch them right?"
You can't stop giggling at this point. "Yes JJ, you'll be able to hold 'em while I do it."
"A win is a win I guess- I can do this. For sure."
You press a kiss to your boyfriends lip with a smile still lingering on your face. "You're adorable baby. But I don't think you'll last a day. But you can look at 'em all you want I promise. I have to wear loose shirts anyway so you'll have easier access-"
"Don't tease me right now mama I'm serious- already got me all worked up just by lookin' at 'em."
And sure enough JJ was already working a semi, "Oh you poor thing... why don't we head to the bedroom and let 'mama' fix that for you yea?"
He was off the bedroom, dragging you behind him before you could even finish.
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t-tomuras · 1 month ago
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⛏ ─── • 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬
Pairing: Gyuutaro Shabana x F!reader 
Warnings: Modern au, mostly gyuutaro pov, self-depricating thoughts (gyuutaro), use of petnames (baby, pretty thing, pretty girl), 'brat' mention, male masturbation (non descript), mild dry humping, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), messy blowjob / face / throat fucking, panty stealing, praise, mention of breeding, biting, idk lotta plot with some porn
Wordcount: 16.6k
Notes: Please don’t look too hard this is just a giant self-indulgent love letter to this man. Not thoroughly beta read, be gentle 🥹
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He hates this job, he really does. The flood of faces day in and day out, the monotony of the same insipid meaningless pleasantries exchanged against his will lest his plucky little barely twenty one year old party animal manager tries to scold him for being ‘unfriendly’. It’s infuriating, to say the least, and he simply isn’t paid enough for it despite the obscene amount of hours he takes up because his boss (that never even sets foot into the independently owned store) refuses to hire anyone extra. 
Gyuutaro barely makes rent either, he’s thankful his roommate covers it without complaint when he can’t even though he hardly ever expresses any gratitude for it; he’s hardly ever home with how much shit he has to take care of. At this point the apartment was just proof of address because good luck getting a job when you’re homeless; he should know. 
Plus, why should he thank the striped asshole anyway? The room dedicated to him was only a fulfilled favor from the man’s brattle girlfriend and self-proclaimed sister of sorts but Gyuutaro didn’t refute the statement either. Hakuji wasn’t exactly a welcoming man but he’d do anything for his little ‘princess’ so his headache is Gyuutaro’s gain, for what it was worth anyway. 
He’d probably save more money if he didn’t send nearly every dime he had to his biological sister to ensure she never went without. A weekly ritual of scraping together what he can to give Ume as an allowance for whatever she so desired, things her scholarship doesn’t cover because he’ll be damned if his pride and joy would ever go without.
Even if that meant pinching pennies and skipping meals often to do so. It’s worth it to him, knowing she’ll be able to pursue her dream in clothing design and not have to take up a part time job to split her attention between. It’d be such a shame for her flawless face to bear the same dark circles that decorate his under eyes.
Thoughts like those are what get him through the doubles he pulls and minimal days off without killing anyone. Though, Gyuutaro swears he’ll hear the shrill ringing of cooler alarms along with the wretched chime of the convenience store doors opening and closing constantly in his sleep. He’ll probably hear it long after he quits, if he ever does. 
Maybe the job wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to perform so much customer service; chatty elderly, rude and entitled soccer moms with their unruly little brats at six in the morning, burnouts that think they’re slick when they’re asking for cash back the second they walk inside and buy ninety-nine cent rolling paper. He hates it all, hates never being able to reach his boss and being expected to make judgement calls that are well above his pay grade like he gives more than a singular shit. Vendors and sales representatives coming and going with information on ads that he forgets the second they leave. 
All but one; one rep that comes in never dressed in any uniform the company surely provides. 
You always come in dressed casually where nobody would think you were working unless they’d seen you regularly. Black jeans because you “hate the work pants” with a plain black tee and a snapback hat that has your company’s logo embroidered professionally on the front with your hair pulled through the hole in the back while the fringe too short for the ponytail hangs from the sides, framing your face that you try and hide. You shake it up sometimes by wearing a company-provided jacket but only when it’s cold out or wearing your hair down entirely so it forces your hair to frame your face a little more than usual but he definitely prefers it like that. You always come in with a smile too, a sort of cheery that Gyuutaro would usually sneer at and waving to him behind the counter while making a beeline to the storeroom, grabbing a clipboard to sign in as proof that you even showed up in the first place even though he tells you often it didn’t matter. Gyuutaro was the only one ever here and if the teenager worked she’d call him a million times for questions she could figure out for herself but you flash him a playful little smile and tell him, “me signing in give her one less reason to call you on your day off.”
It didn’t though, the airhead would ask him where the sheet was despite it never moving from the same spot it’s always been in but he keeps that to himself.
You’re nice, that’s what he would say about you and probably the first and only kind word he’d used for anyone besides his sister for the first time in his entire life.
And it’s an objective truth, you’re incredibly friendly in a professional sense, he guessed anyway. Overly considerate as well. You asked about his day each time you spoke to one another but not in the obligatory way of menial conversation. You’re probably the only rep he even bothered to remember the name of, you’re the only one he’s ever taken the time to say more than two words to. Pretty too, objectively speaking of course, nice to look at so maybe that’s why he didn’t mind interacting with you more than the average person he was forced to deal with.
That’s the reasoning he gives himself anyway as Gyuutaro takes a second to look around the parking lot from the window, seeing if anyone else would come in before hopping over the counter and wandering over to the store room. It’s just to help you with whatever you’re doing, he’ll just see if you have any questions about inventory and then get back around to count the cigarettes or something; nothing more, nothing less.
You’re tapping something into your phone whenever he rounds the corner to the backroom, leaning against the doorframe with his hands shoved into the pouch at the front of his hoodie, the weight of them dragging the baggy material downward and giving him more space around his throat before clearing it ‘innocuously’’ to let you know he was there, sparing you from a fright. You look up for a second, face scrunched into a concentrated scowl that quickly melts into your usual soft look as you flash him a quick smile then get back to whatever you were doing on your phone. 
“Yer kinda early today, huh?” kicking off from his perch as he ventures further into the room as you glance over all the inventory. 
You’re scowling again whenever he gets closer, a short silence falling between you before you turn to him; nodding after heaving a bereft sigh after tucking your phone into your back pocket, “Yeah, reset guy called out so I’ve gotta do it instead because corporates breathing down our necks about the completion rate being so low. Boss told me he’ll cover anything else I have today but hey, I’ll get to bother you for a while.” 
He can’t help but chuckle at the way you stick your tongue out at him as if you lingering for an extended amount of time could ever be a bad thing, continuing to babble about what you’ll have to do and what’s happening with all the products in the store. It sounds like a lot, obviously it is since your schedule was essentially cleared for it. 
“You gonna’ need any help?” The question falls from his lips reflexively, surprising himself because he was never one to offer assistance to anyone, much more likely to make their lives harder and enjoy their suffering in the meantime.
The chime to the store's entrance doors rings when you open your mouth to answer, closing it quickly as you wave him goodbye with an apologetic smile as Gyuutaro rolls his eyes with a snarl to his lips. Pulling one hand from his front pocket and putting two fingers together at his temple paired with an exaggerated but muted explosion sound as he backs away from you to tend to the customer but he earns a cute, tinkling giggle from you over the semantics. He leaves you to your work while he helps the customer with whatever it is he’s needed to do. Put x amount on pump whatever, buying a ridiculous amount of junk food, vape stuff; whatever it is he’s not really paying attention while they’re talking to him and he pushes buttons on the register as that melodic sound plays on repeat in his head until you emerge from the back, his eyes on you instantly. 
It’s obvious he’s staring at you, too, watching while you walk back and forth from the storeroom and between the aisles and displays of different products. Pushing standees around as kicking stacks to certain spots and bending over every so often to rotate perishable stock with a few choice words over the delivery drivers performances but it drains out quickly as Gyuutaro drinks you in. 
And your shirt that usually drapes down to your ass rides up to reveal just a peek of lacy panties, making a pervert out of Gyuutaro quickly. Warming his chest with wandering thoughts that stray too far and end up carrying the heat in his veins until he has to shed the oversized hoodie. 
Customers come in sporadically after that, keeping him tied to the register as he yells responses across the way to you the few times you poked your head around to ask him something. It’s about three hours whenever he’s finally able to actually move away from the counter and meet you in the storeroom where you’re tidying up, bent over yet again and his eyes instantly drag downward to enjoy the view but you sense his presence quickly enough. 
Standing up just as quickly as crystalline hues flit to meet your gaze, saliva gathering on his tongue with the way you greet him so warmly like he weren’t just ogling you for the umpteenth time today.
“Hey!” chirped as you toed at the neat stack you were tending to when he’d appeared, “I’m just about done, I’m sending back all this junk in these boxes.” You could’ve told him the sky was green and he wouldn’t have questioned you, let alone the shit to do with this building he prays burns down. You’re typing away at your phone again at a system he never bothered to learn after explaining all the changes he may actually retain simply because it was you who said it. 
Gyuutaro rubs at the back of his neck while you finish your professional spiel, biting at the skin on the inside of his cheek, “sorry I didn’t get t’help ya any, shit timing I guess,” but you smile at him nonetheless, waving your hand and dismissing his apology. 
“It’s not a big deal at all, promise. You looked like you were ready to jump over the counter and throttle someone anyway,” he likes the way you giggle at your own comment, how it lights up your whole face and makes him need to swallow a little more. Thinks it’s cute, thinks you’re cute and he’s actually pretty annoyed he didn’t get to speak to you more the one day you’re at his store longer than an hour. Scowl marring his perfectly imperfect features as he slouches and scoffs as he recalls the faceless nobodies that kept him away from you.
“Everyone’s pretty fuckin’ annoyin, like they don’t have a shred of sense. We were busier than normal today too, should’ve just traded you jobs for the day,” to which you only gave him a sympathetic pat to his forearm in response. 
It makes him feel warm, a comfortable heat in his chest, with how you always laugh at whatever he says or are just so genuinely enthused to speak to him and that you feel inclined to be near him or touch him. He scratches at the slope of his throat in a subconscious bid to fight the unfamiliar feeling you evoke, flicking the scythe earring that dangles from the tunnel in his stretched lobes while he thinks of what else to say; never one to actually desire for conversation to carry on.
“Uh, so, you gotta order more overpriced shit or?” Was all he could come up with, his cheeks heating rapidly when you look up from the small handheld clutched in your hands and nod before returning to whatever it is you do. Thankful for the dark marks he’s had since birth that spreads from his right cheek to just below the center of his left eye for once in his life as it disguises the blush that probably tints his pale skin. Sighing as he gives up on finding something to say and leaning against the doorframe again while peeking over your shoulder as you add and subtract god knows what to the store owners bill. Jarring him from his stupor when you shift from one foot to the other on your feet before you exhale heavily.
“Alrighty, ’m all done here now, you got much longer today?“ 
He groans long and low before he nods, scowl deepening  and scratching noisily along his sharp jawline, “yeah, Imma be here pretty late, gotta’ work a twelve today because my boss is a dick and the brat he made manager has an important college party she can’t miss. Ya can only tell me yer dyin to have a train ran on ya in so many ways.” 
That makes you frown, genuinely disheartened for a reason Gyuutaro can’t really understand yet, eyebrows scrunching as you chew at your plush lower lip for a second. The next moment you’re whipping your phone out of your back pocket and clicking several different apps before you turn it towards him and he sees the add contact screen, “Put your number in, I get off after I head back to our office to clock out and wouldn’t mind coming by to help.” 
“To bother me, you mean?” quipped in jest as he takes your device with a raised eyebrow and crooked smile that makes you squirm minutely under his gaze, tapping in his contact information and sending himself a text with a playful little middle finger and scythe emoji in it to save yours before handing it back to you. You laugh at the text, rolling your eyes with a nod while tucking your phone away and moving toward the door with Gyuutaro hot on your heels, “Bothering you is an obvious given, you should know that.” 
Playfully shooing you out the door in mock annoyance in response, hanging in the doorway as he sees you out to your car and for once the blaring chime doesn’t annoy him as it screeches in his ears.
The days don’t drag on like they used to after that, probably due to the fact that he spends all day on his phone now texting you. He’s in a better mood too, smiling more (at his screen but smiling nonetheless) because the conversation doesn’t feel forced or stagnant and you’re always engaging in one way or another and if you can’t think of anything to say you you send a meme or a picture of another location that you’re at for the day. 
‘You’d never do this’, your text bubble highlights, which makes him roll his eyes, tapping at his screen in between mindless tasks he can’t focus on. 
‘Probably would if it made you have to be here awhile longer,’ Gyuutaro smirks while he types it, lopsided grin splitting his face as he wonders if you’ll fluster over it or at the very least read it in his tone. He’s gotten a little more bold with you in the weeks you’ve been texting; mostly not so subtle hints of his attraction, telling you you’re cute for simple things and complimenting you in ways that couldn’t be considered platonic. You’re animated in the ways you respond too, displaying how what he says makes you feel with caps lock and unintelligible key smashes and Gyuutaro takes it as a good sign. The awkwardness of flirting with you had long since gone away because of it and he's learned you’re the incredibly nurturing type.
Displaying it overtly and subtly all at once with questions like, ‘Did you sleep alright? Have you eaten today? I’ll be in the area today do you want me to pick up lunch? Have a good day!
The more receptive you are to him the more he does it, always toeing the line of borderline sexting without plunging into it just yet.  
For now he’ll just enjoy the mutually casual flirting, he thinks it’s flirting anyway, that’s what his roommate's stray of a girlfriend (and his bonus sister, he guesses) says when she snatches his phone from his hands or reads the screen from over his shoulder. Taunting teasingly ‘serial killers got a girlfriend’ before they end up rough housing as he wrestles for his phone back until her man came to separate them and toss her over his shoulder.
Gyuutaro couldn’t say he was opposed to the notion, however, you’d creeped your way into his personal life instead of lingering at the doorway of his professional life only. You both text one another as often as you can, but he feels the times where he has to wait, keenly aware of every agonizing minute as he drums his fingers along the counter and clicks through apps on his phone; he even hears a phantom chirp of your text notification every so often and cringes at himself if he dwells on that feeling of desperation too long. 
Lets his mind wander in fleeting distraction when there aren’t customers to busy himself with. Gyuutaro thinks of how his roommate has made fun of him for checking his phone so often just yesterday, recalling the scene vividly in his mind's eye. 
Hakuji watching the lanky man waking his screen or unlocking and locking it back more times than he can count. His legs growing restless as he did so, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he lounges in the living room of their apartment. 
Pots and pans clatter as the bulkier of the two searched for the correct cookware as he commented from the kitchen, “y’know Shabana, it's pretty refreshing seein you this hung up on someone that isn’t your sister.” 
The heavily tattooed man doesn’t realize the connotations of his phrasing, or maybe he does, Gyuutaro could never tell when Hakuji tried his hand at banter. The response was the same regardless “fuck off, stripes.” 
His roommate puts his hands up in front of his torso in mock surrender, “just saying, seems like yer really into her, princess said the girl sounds into you and could be a good thing going.”
Gyuutaro didn’t respond further, simply sneered before retreating to his sparsely decorated room with his brows furrowed in thought over how the both of you interact and if the chemistry was really that palpable that people on the outside looking in could notice it too. 
Returning to that line of consideration now as he waits, ruminating on it and if there were different attempts Gyuutaro should make but it’s abandoned quickly when an eagerly anticipated response wakes his screen and your name graces the notification bar on display.
‘Miss me?’ He reads it in your voice, a sweet sound that rattles around in his head more than he’d willingly admit to anyone aloud. Lips curling up around jagged teeth as he goes to tap out a reply before the door swings open dramatically enough that it agitates Gyuutaro. Growl rumbling from his chest only to die in his throat when he sees you standing with a beaming smile before you hold up a plastic bag with two containers of takeout while you laugh at him. 
“Gotcha!” Exclaimed between your erupting giggle fit as you place the food on the chipping countertop as you make your way around the counter to him, “you should’ve seen your face you were about to lose your shit.”
The snarl he wears is significantly less menacing and off putting than any other that he’s adorned but only because it’s directed at you, “didn’ tell me you were stopping by pretty thing, didn’t even get time to make myself look all nice.”
You scoff as you lift yourself onto the adjacent counter facing the window, your back to it after you’ve laid out your respective meals, “always look nice, now eat, I know you haven’t since I came by yesterday.”
Gyuutaro doesn’t miss how you quickly slip in the compliment but you give him no time to refute it, chuckling himself as he shakes his head while grabbing his plate of food and the utensils that came with it. An upwards quirk lingers on his lips even as he takes a bite and lets his lids slip shut to savor the moment rather than the food itself, a pleasant heat pulsing softly behind his sternum as he realizes you’ve been subtly learning about him too. That you’re at least well versed enough to know how quickly he’d refute your genuine response to his sarcastic jab at himself. 
Instead he lets you have this win, enjoys the fact that you genuinely find him appealing instead of the nagging urge to mock you for it before you could mock him because there simply isn't a singular instance where that would transpire. You were too good for that, too good for him he knows but Gyuutaro is a selfish man that takes what he wants and unfortunately (but oh so fortunately despite how unaware of the fact he was) for you, you and your affection was what he had his sights on. 
‘I’m on vacation starting tomorrow,’ you break the rare silence that had blanketed the space after swallowing your own bite of food. Gyuutaro pulled from his musings with a confused sound muffled by his mouthful as he urges you to continue, “I’m not doing anything special. Staying home all week.” 
You want to squirm over his expression, still clueless with a thin brow quirked high on his forehead hidden behind long fringe that hangs in his face. Waiting a moment in case he just needed the time to process what you were saying but once he continues to miss the point you finally sigh and ask him outright, “Do you want to hang out with me sometime during the week?“
Only for an impish grin to spread on his devilishly handsome face that makes your throat, ears and cheeks burn with heat, “thought ya’d never ask. Just lemme know when ya want me.”
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You’re relatively busy the rest of the week after you inform him of your time off, tying up loose ends so you don’t run the risk of being contacted during your vacation and leaving notes for whoever will be filling in for you. Too dutiful in Gyuutaro’s opinion considering all the times you’ve ranted to him about your coworkers screwing you over as he thumbs away frustrated tears when you’ve reached your breaking point over the added workload. Always telling him that it’s easier for you in the long run if you just take care of things ahead of time but you ignore him when he reminds you of how you pick up everyone else’s slack but they don’t allow you the opportunity to do the same. 
It doesn’t sit right on his tongue and weighs heavy in the pit of his stomach but he lets it go when you ask him to; offering him placating words as if he were the one that felt overwhelmed. 
So he just opts to make you laugh because apparently Gyuutaro’s ‘so good at cheering me up’ and he ‘always knows just how to put a smile on my face’.
But your relief come the end of the week is palpable even without the several texts to him in all caps about how you’d completed all your tasks and written out all your emails for the ‘team’ so you’re ‘home free.’ You’re so ridiculously cute Gyuutaro can’t even stand it, embarrassed about how his heart skips a beat when you ask him his schedule and if he’ll want to come by this Sunday before he could even respond to your joy. He takes a moment to calm himself, exhaling slowly as you coordinate a short back and forth and commit to a plan.
Excitement making his stomach twist with a different sort of hunger than he’s ever suffered from before. Fuck, was he in love with you?
He wished he’d never asked himself that question, at least not before he was going to spend time with you outside of work. The first time he comes over is somewhat awkward, being alone with you in private, nevermind the fact that it’s in the sanctity of your home at that, surely would’ve been. 
The space is tidy, he notes, like you like to keep things neat and orderly the same way you do at work and he honestly isn’t surprised; demonstrating his assumption by holding out your hand for his keys as you toss them into the little bowl on the entryway table that houses your own set. Busying yourself as you move around the space before disappearing into the kitchen that wafts the smell of dinner throughout your home and makes him salivate.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” you call from the other room but Gyuutaro only coo’s a cool ‘kay’ as he seizes the opportunity to explore his surroundings as he meanders to your modest dining room table that doesn’t look like it can seat more than two people at any given moment.
There are only a few scattered pictures on the wall, family he presumes, mostly you and who he guesses is your mother as well as a few that are of people that bear no resemblance to you at all that Gyuutaro gathers must be your friends. Closest to the archway that leads into your kitchen is a singular ornately designed analog clock and some painted canvas’ on the opposite side that lead down the extended hallway that make him smirk to himself, a little pleased to learn on his own that you like to paint and you aren’t half bad at it either. 
Your home is dimly lit as well, curtains drawn for privacy and it blocks out a significant amount of natural light but it's rectified with lamps that cast a softer yellowish glow to illuminate the area. Overall you decorate pretty simply, modestly, keeping mostly essentials with the occasional knick-knacks placed sporadically so the space doesn’t feel so empty or bland. 
Pulled from his reverie when he catches sight of you preparing the plates for both of you, snarling his lip because like fucking hell you were going to do more than you needed to especially on your vacation, especially over something like this.
Broad palm and lithe digits with knobby knuckles take the ladle from your hands with ease, sucking his teeth at you when you go to protest with a cute whine but he stands firm. Taking your dish and holding it higher so you couldn’t try and snatch it from his hands as he spoons the steaming food onto the ceramic. You relent easily enough though, but not without any complaint as your shoulders slumping animatedly in exaggeration as you let him finish up making both plates instead, “I could’ve done it ‘taro.”
“Ya cooked,” short and to the point as he hands you your food, jerking his head backwards because if he acknowledges the cute nickname for him he doubts he could contain he already barely concealed desire for you, “I’ll serve it. How it works.”
Nevermind he’s never served another soul in his life that wasn’t blood related to him. What had you done to him? Will you keep doing it?
He hopes so as you retreat from him, exhaling slowly to calm himself before he follows you into the next room to find you already comfortably sat at your table; waiting for him to join you before you start eating. Something Gyuutaro never let Ume do while they were growing up, always wanting to make sure she’d had her fill before he’d even consider eating.
But food was plenty when it came to you, he knows how to pick his battles as well, Gyuutaro didn’t think he could get away with strong arming you with something simple like this again. Sliding into the cushioned seat next to you as he digs his spoon into the hearty stew after only a moment's pause. Puffing out a disbelieved chuckle when you make no move to start eating yourself as you stare expectantly at him. 
He rolls his eyes but take a decent spoonful and shovels the meat and potatoes into his mouth without even blowing on it to cool it off with little reaction besides a hum of satisfaction. Pointing the dirtied utensil at you when he swallows and lets the taste warm his belly, “s’great, now eat lil brat.”
The deliverance was a little curt but not insultingly so as you beam at him, rolling your lower lip between your teeth as you nod before finally tucking into your own plate with a playfully flippant, “was gonna, just needed to let it cool down.”
You do love your technicalities, Gyuutaro’s learned, “lucky yer cute, liars never are.”
Nudging at you with his elbow before the meal continues in amicable silence, interrupted with light conversation and Gyuutaro getting up to make himself a second bowl halfway through while you sit with him as he polished that one off as well.
This was probably the longest either of you had taken to eat any meal before, Gyuutaro never one to eat very often which was apparently in the way his skin clung to the bonier areas of his body; you because you bite off more than you could chew in other areas of your life and used the excuse of ‘never having the time to stop and eat.’
But this meal was enjoyable, one you both wanted to savor that didn't pertain to the food at all. Lingering at the table as you both idly chat a little bit more than you would when you see him at work or over text. You’d known about his sister of course but it’s more enjoyable getting to watch him talk at length about her more, have him detail to you about her personality quirks and cherished memories from their childhood that you’re sure she would be utterly mortified to know that he’d regaled them someone she hadn’t even met yet.
He was more like a proud dad than a loving older brother but you admire that about him, adored it rather. There weren’t many men like Gyuutaro that would accept that sort of responsibility over their sibling at such a young age, it shows you how good of a father he’d be one day before you nip that train of thought in the bud. 
You hadn’t even met the most important person in his life yet, nevermind that you weren’t even dating or discussing the prospect of it, what did you think you were doing with mental images of him cradling a precious little swaddle of a newborn that looks like a healthy mix of you and–
“Ya feelin alright?” his voice has you careening back to the present from a future you imagine a little more than you should, looking somewhat stupified then shocking at the cool feel of the back of his palm on your heated cheek, “feel warm.”
Your fingers wrap around his wrist thoughtfully before pulling it away gently, patting it assuringly only to chirp out tightly, ““m great! Soups n’stews just warm me up a little too much.”
You’re aware that that sounds less than convincing but you breathe a sigh of relief when he shrugs his shoulders with a smirk before figuring now was as good a time as any to start clearing the table. It makes you frown though, reaching for him quickly and grasping onto his baggy shirt, “you don’t have to do that, I’ll get it.”
Gyuutaro casts a glance over his shoulder to scold you lightly over this as well but his words die in his throat when he sees your crestfallen expression. His cleaning up feels like their time together was already coming to an end and you’d be lying if you said that wasn't more than disappointing. 
So he stops, stands less slouched than normal as he turns to you and lets his index finger hook beneath your chin to earn your gaze, “we’re gonna watch a movie yeah? What kinda asshole would I be if I dined n’ditched?”
His tone is so low and gentle paired with his touch as well as that soft expression on his face that he pulls off flustering and pacifying you in one fell swoop but you do the same to him in turn. Facilitating that pleasantly uncomfortable heat in his chest like a flickering flame that has smothering ash kicked from it’s core the moment your crestfallen expression melts from the warmth of your relieved smile.
This much of a change in mood so quickly, all because he said he’d be staying with you for a little while longer? If you’d told him weeks ago Gyuutaro alone was capable of that he’d have cackled maniacally in your face. 
Well, maybe not your face specifically, but still the sentiment stands, the notion would’ve been unfathomable to him. Gyuutaro favored souring people's moods and leaving a bitter taste in their mouths but the thought of doing that to you in any capacity makes his stomach twist in familiar discomfort.
He doesn’t realize you’re still within his grasp until you reluctantly pull yourself from him, reaching for the stacked dishes in his other hand only for him to shift it further out of your reach, “What did I say earlier?”
Your arm flails slightly, trying in vain to take the bowls from him before you huff in momentary defeat and fix him with a defiant pout, “that I cooked so you made the plates, not a thing was said about cleanin up.”
“It was implied.”
“Implied where, in your imagination?” Wrestling with him playfully as he gives you his back before your arms slip between his own but still only come up short thanks to his lanky limbs, “I can clean up two plates, seriously.”
“Didn’t ask,” purred with his back to you as long legs carry him into your kitchen with three easy strides, maneuvering about the area like he belonged there as he crouched to the cabinet below to grab a new sponge on assumption alone. You protest a bit more, knocking your hip into his in a weak attempt to bump him out of the way only to be quietly humbled over how he doesn’t even budge. Averting your gaze and pouting with warm cheeks when he glances at you with that shit-eating grin of his before leaning against your counter with your arms crossed in an exaggerated huff. 
Tapping your foot quietly against the hardwood floor as the sound of running water and the gentle clink of ceramics and metal fills the tranquil moment; simply watching Gyuutaro work comfortably in your kitchen and enjoying the delusion of domesticity until your heart races. Inhaling audibly and collating his curiosity as you scoot slightly away from him, patting your thighs because you’ve been too idle for too long.
“Actually.. Since you insist on not letting me clean in my own house, do you mind if I grab a shower? I don’t like taking one super late,” a habit even when you’re on vacation, trying to give yourself as much relaxation time before you finally decide to wind down for bed far too late in the night for how early you always seem to wake up. 
Gyuutaro gives a simple nod, resuming his self-assigned task but not without an internal scoff to himself and a smirk that fights it’s way onto his lips with the passing thought of his roommate being wholly aghast at Gyuutaro in this moment considering he never even so much as looked at the sinkful of dirty dishes back home.
Glancing over his shoulder again when he catches the motion of you awkwardly shifting your weight on the balls of your feet as he quirks his brow. Tilting his head for the dip dyed ends of his mop of wavy locks to shift out of his eyes, “Need somethin else? Or was that an invitation?”
You stiffen and he almost thinks he’s overstepped and completely misread everything between the two of you up to this point before he watches you press your palms to your cheeks the same way his sister does when she’s trying to calm herself down. Attempting to stammer out a response but you can’t even meet his gaze and as relief washes over him he taps his foot near yours and shoots you a damning wink, “m kiddin, take yer shower or I’ll start the movie without ya.”
“Don’t you dare,” scowling exuberantly, recovering from your momentary malfunction in a way that has Gyuutaro grinning, “make yourself comfortable when you’re done, swear I won’t take long.” 
He only responds with another nod, giving you an easy smile as he returns to the task at hand, grabbing a few of the stray tableware and cups while he was at it. He can feel you lingering though, feels your gaze on his back and it fleetingly makes the nape of his neck burn but he doesn’t resent the feeling. Another sensation only you stoke in him, one he doesn’t question because subconsciously he knows the cause even if he teeters between delusion and denial. 
You almost look in a daze from what he can glean from his peripheral everytime he sets a dish into your drying rack, snapping you from it as he flicks soaked digits in your direction, “doubt this is an efficient way to shower pretty thing.”
The way you squeal and giggle louder as he flicks more water at you before you race off down the hall to your bathroom makes his (now full) shrunken stomach do a flip, fluttering in another of many foreign yet familiar sensations he continues to amass from your presence. Drying his hands as he smirks over the dull thuds of your feet and the door at the end of the hall shutting hastily as Gyuutaro calls out, “can’t blame me for using all the hot water either yaknow.”
Surprisingly satisfied with what he accomplished he moves to linger in your living room idly with nothing to do, glancing about and opting to occupy his time by familiarizing himself with the dwelling after shedding his hoodie when he rounds the couch. Picking up your scattered candles and appreciating the sweet smells that recognized the times they clung to your skin or clothes before wandering further into your home. Hoping to gain more than a shallow glimpse into your life and how you live it outside of the small window he knows you from on a week to week basis or walls of text messages exchanged for hours on end could ever offer him.
Returning to the kitchen first, concocting a flippant excuse of having a sudden sweet tooth should you emerge from the corner without him noticing, not that he’d really need one for some innocent perusing. 
Starting off simple as he rummages through the fridge to see what you like only to find a random assortment of ingredients and a case of water. Frown marring his features with a slight growl, sucking his teeth because why the hell were you worrying about his eating habits when your fridge looked this barren? He’s a hypocrite for certain as he tells himself to get on your case about it later while straightening his spine and shutting the heavy door with an indignant scoff. Unsatisfied with his snooping yet as he opens and closes every cabinet in the room and stares into the pantry, growing bored before long and settling to just lounge in the living room.
Resolving to actually behave and respect your privacy.. That is, until he hones in on the sound of the running water of your shower trying and failing to muffle the sound of a melody sung in an impossibly sweeter tone than he already thought you’d had. Stalling mid stride, staring blankly down the hallway and at the simple door your voice emanates from.
A siren song for certain the way it draws him to you, craving to hear it more clearly as he closes the gap; allowing only the inch thick distance of the particle board and the few feet between it and your shower to separate you both. Leaning against the structure carefully with his ear pressed to the surface, almost holding his breath as he enjoys the sound of you. Arms folded over his chest with a ghost of a smile on his lips as his lids slip shut as if you were serenading him explicitly. Jarring when you a loud clattering of several things follows your cute little yelp, and he pauses to see if you’ll whine in pain, untensing when the sound never comes nor does the captivating cantical. 
But that’s fine for now, something else has stolen his attention anyway as he carefully pushes away from the bathroom door to push open another. Knobby knuckle nudging open the already already ajar entryway to the room across the hall.
Your room.
And he shouldn’t slink in, knows he shouldn’t slither through the marginally larger gap he created but, the lamp on your bedside table casts such a warm and, like everything else about you, inviting glow. Call Gyuutaro a moth to a flame if you wanted, vying for just a little bit more of you in any way he could get his greedy little hands on. 
Even for something so insignificant and inconsequential as the areas you dwell in, but there was an aspect of intimacy associated within the sanctity of where you seek solace and Gyuutaro has always been a man starved of many things. and since he’s met you you’ve only ever fed him more and more. He’s thankful you’d never taken the lesson to never feed a stray to heart. 
Because he wants to invade every fiber of your very being, infect your life slowly like the plague he saw himself as. Praying to any god that only ignored his pleas until Gyuutaro finally stopped asking and dolled out misery that he’d be terminal for you but in a softer, more affectionate way. 
The feeling festering in the space between his ribs as he stands in your sanctuary. Your room is as simply decorated as the rest of the house aside from a marked amount more pictures and tchotchkes that tell him more than idle chit chat ever could. 
Even silence is a conversation, easy to glean desired information so long as you were willing to look for it. 
Like that you loved deeply and cherish the moments you get to spend with those so fortunate enough you afford the affection if the candid moments immortalized in photos and preserved in protective frames are any indication. Friends mostly, some from your childhood, most from recent years alongside a lone photo of you with a woman you bare a vague resemblance to. Parental problems maybe? May you and Gyuutaro be kindred spirits. 
Perhaps that alone validates his next assessment. Where he grew callous and cold you chose to be kind and warm, obvious enough, to him, that you crave comfort as his eyes rove over the abundance of plush creatures of all varieties, stuffed foxes, cats, a pink fawn as well as a rotund bat plush that looked specifically tailored to cuddle artfully arranged around strawberry shaped pillows. 
Your bed itself reminds him more of a little nest with how it’s tucked into the corner of your room to accommodate the comforts artfully arranged around strawberry and heart shaped pillows along with the fluffiest comforter Gyuutaro has ever seen with another blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He wants to lie in it on the worst of days with you in his arms, curling around you protectively. Burns to bury his nose into your hair after kissing your crown as the smell of your shampoo, the sound of your breathing and the feel of your skin against his lulls him into the most restful sleep he’s ever gotten in his rotten life. 
Gyuutaro has to take a few steps back, berating himself over the faithless fantasies from his wicked and treacherous heart while staring at your empty bed. The longer he lingered the more likely he felt he’d be inclined to stay and for once he didn’t want to intrude or invade, not without your explicit invitation. 
Though he bumps into another piece of furniture on his exit, the rounded edge of the sturdy wood stabbing just below his shoulder blade causes him to hiss in pain. Pivoting on his heel with a snarl that quickly fades into benign curiosity as his hand strokes along the lip of your dresser.  
Drumming his fingers against the material as he purses his lips and quirks a thin brow. Weird place to put something like this, in his opinion, rocking on his heel and as he does he can catch a glimpse of the bathroom just outside of your own room. Easy access, it must be here for when you forget your clothes to spare yourself the shameful shuffle in the starke nude despite living alone. 
The thought makes him laugh, the scene a domestic one he’d never imagined of anyone as his hand rests over the top. Drumming his fingers against the hardwood as serenity turns salacious in his ever working mind. 
It’s shameful, he knows this already, but what wasn’t when it came to Gyuutaro? If he were a kinder, more compassionate man, the kind of man you deserved, the wherewithal to not violate your privacy like this would be a nonissue.
But he wasn’t, never even considered to be and doubts heavily he ever would; in this life or the next. 
So the drawers are already quietly opened with a practiced ease. 
And of course they’re all organized. Jeans, skirts, shorts, leggings and sleepwear in the bottom two drawers. The one above those holds all your shirts, long and short sleeves alike with some camis and tank tops and he chortles over the realization that you’ve sorted the storage's contents by the placement on your own body for the most part. 
Gyuutaro opens the top drawer last, he can hear how heavily he swallows as it creaks open, pausing with a scowl at the shrill sound. Is there any real reason for him to open the final drawer? No, not really, but there wasn’t any valid justification for coming to your room in general either; so, why should he stop now? Guilty is guilty, is it not, he’s always been punished severely regardless of his transgression anyway. It’s why he selfishly prioritized his own pleasure where he could and you being his currently coveted prize was enough justification to slide the drawer open further. 
Just enough to revel at the assortment of bundled silky and lacy underwear alternatively. He should be ashamed of himself, feel disgusting for how he cards through the variety of styles with a lidded gaze and lazy smile, but he doesn’t. 
Doesn’t still as he conjures images of you clad only in the pretty black, lacy pair with a precious little pink bow on the front while you stand between his spread legs with your hands on his shoulders before you climb to straddle him. Lashes fluttering over the daydream as he fists the fabric with a white knuckled grip before he forces himself from his reverie. 
Heaving a bereft sigh as his cock twitched and threatens to throb if he doesn’t leave now, quickly but carefully closing the drawer after he’s pocketed the lingerie before finally fucking leaving your room and just in time for him to hear the steady stream of water to stop. 
He’s in the living room again when the bathroom door opens and the humidity accumulated billows out. You're toweling your hair dry as you pad towards him, wearing a satin red camisole and dark dolphin shorts but you might as well be dressed to kill.
“Sorry I took a little bit, I just know after the movie I’ll want to go to sleep as soon as it's over,” there’s a ringing in his ears that almost drowns out everything you’d said to him. The sound blaring as crystalline hues quickly give you a once over as you cross in front of him  
Gyuutaro croaks out a tight ‘s fine’ as he sits sprawled on your sofa, one arm draped over the back of the couch as he slouches lower. Cursing inwardly as he folds his leg in a way that keeps his swelling cock from tenting the material of his jeans. Gritting his teeth and subtly tensing every muscle in his body to will blood flow anywhere else but you (always unintentionally and jn the best of ways) make his life harder. Plopping down into the plush cushions with a saccharine suspire that will fuel his fantasies later before leaning your head on his shoulder while clicking through several apps before settling on Hulu. 
So sweetly handing him the remote with a chirped ‘you pick’ like he wasn’t fighting for his life right now. He couldn’t be fucked to actually choose a movie so he chose some suggested horror flick and hoped for the best.  
It takes about fifteen minutes into the movie before he’s finally calmed enough to let his arm fall from its perch and drape around your shoulder and tuck you into his side properly. It’s criminal how easily you adjust into him too, shifting your weight more into your hip as your head tucks into the crook of his throat and your hand splays just over his diaphragm after you’ve pulled the throw blanket over you both. 
He doesn’t absorb anything from the movie, not that he’d really been attempting to anyway. Mentally occupied by how well you fit against him, how warm you are as well as committing the fragrant notes of your shampoo and body wash to memory. Mind wandering to anything else, though any and all thoughts still pertained to you, to stave off the dread of the movie ending because the last thing he wanted to do was to go home alone tonight. 
Until he notices how you grip onto him for dear life, whole body tensing before you flinch and fist the material of his hoodie tighter; all normal reactions to a horror film. Gyuutaro almost wants to chuckle over your reactions until you whimper and hide your face, trembling over the gory and frightening scene that has him hastily fumbling for the remote to pause it. 
You opt to hide in his throat when he does until his broad palm cups your cheek after a long moment and coaxes you to look at him, nose nudging against your own when he rests his forehead on yours. Cooing at you in the softest tone he could manage when you apologize for no reason while trembling in his hold, thumb swiping over the apple of your cheek as his fingers caress the hinge of your jaw. 
Your eyes are pretty when they’re glassy with tears but he doesn’t think he wants to see them this way ever again, not from this circumstance anyway. There were probably less selfish ways to comfort you but he tells himself he isn’t a selfless man as Gyuutaro closes minimal gap between you, sealing his lips over yours. Chaste and tentative at first, testing until you whine approvingly and press closer. 
It’s all the permission he needs to do what he does best; take. 
His hand slides to the curve of your skull to press you closer to him, leaning into the contact as he tilts his head with a hum. Your lips are as soft as he thought they’d be, softer maybe but he won’t get too lost in those details. Not when you return his fervor by weaving your fingers into his loose locks, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his scalp and how you barely break the contact to take a breath. 
It’s more than encouraging to him, slightly emboldening Gyuutaro as his tongue swipes along your plush bottom lip before you grant him entry. Your muted moan swallowed by him as he shifts you into his lap for you both to be more comfortable. 
He figures it to be a safer bet than pressing you into the cushions and climbing on top of you. ‘Easier to hold back this way,’ Gyuutaro inwardly assures himself while staring directly at pure temptation with a lustful gaze. Chest heaving as you lean back just enough to adjust and sit comfortably in his lap before chasing his lips once more. 
Broad palms finding your natural waist as your thick thighs frame his narrow hips and you cradle his jaw as if he was your personal treasure. Nipping at and gently pulling his own kiss swollen lower lip before you tug the hair at the base of his skull for him to tilt his head. 
Eyes glinting with mirth paired with a mischievous little smile that he mirrors as he palms the nape of your neck, “feelin better?” 
“Maybe,” giggling as your thumb swipes at the corner of his lips, “not sure yet.” 
Dipping for another kiss as a chuckle vibrates his chest, reverberating against your own as your tongue swirls around his. Gasping in pleasant surprise when your clothed slit brushes over his throbbing cock, chasing the sensation by grinding down after he slouches lower in his seat. 
It feels good, you feel good, even through the layers of clothes like this; it still makes Gyuutaro groan. His hands slipping lower and palm the fat of your ass to pull you closer as he presses further into the plush couch. Whimpering in turn when you repeat the motion with more confidence, rolling your pelvis into his only for him to rut upwards somewhat awkwardly until he falls into a comfortable unspoken rhythm.  
Gyuutaro’s in trouble, mind racing with the desire to pull the thin, flimsy material of your shorts and panties to the side to glide his cockhead through your sticky folds. Gripping your hips with a bruising force that you seem to more than enjoy if how they jerk in his hold was any indication before tap your fingers on his wrist. It gives him pause, swallowing thickly thinking he’d done something wrong when you lift your ass and reach between your bodies to fumble with his button and zipper before he grabs both of your hands in one. 
‘Wait, fuck, don’t wanna—“ he can already see you start to deflate at perceived rejection whenever he grabs your chin gently. Carefully cradling your jaw when you try and shy away from him to force eye contact, “nah don’t do that, believe me pretty girl, I fuckin wanna, but not on the first date. You’ll think I’m easy.” 
He winks with a Cheshire grin that makes you giggle, relaxing against him as your thumb swipes affectionately over the marks he thinks are ghastly. 
“Movie was shit anyway,” shifting you to sit in his lap with your back against the arm of the couch and your head tucked into his throat, “I’ll head home a little later. Put something on ya like.”  
You nod but don’t detangle from him, only adjust enough to where your legs are kicked over one side to sit comfortably in his lap. Spending the next hour letting YouTube autoplay comfort videos with one another’s hands laced together in your lap and even still, when it’s time for him to head home, it feels too soon. Lingering in your doorway after he grasps at his discarded hoodie and helps you into it to see him off after demanding he text you he’s made it home safely with a petulant pout he wouldn’t dream of denying. 
And true to his word he sends a concise ‘home’ after you’ve tucked yourself away in a bed that now feels too big with just you in it’s confines. Breathing a sigh of relief as you reply with a heart and telling him goodnight before you shimmy lower into your thick comforter. 
On the cusp of slipping into a dreamless sleep when your screen wakes that does the same for you in turn when you groan to see what disturbed you. 
A text from Gyuutaro that read “how bad I wanted to, btw” after resorting to fucking his fist with your pilfered panties pressed to his nose. A picture attached of him that’s cut just above his toothy, satisfied grin to just below his toned abdomen where you can see sticky white stain pale skin.
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It’s safe to say the proverbial ice had finally been broken, the shift in your relationship with one another unspoken and the nature of it is still undefined but you’re both certain (at the very least) that you're on the same page. 
From the time he wakes up to the time you fall asleep you’re in constant contact with one another, texting between chores around your households or having extended phone calls during his shifts at work. Conversation feels impossibly easier than before, lighter, uninhibited and lacking any gnawing desire to fill any silences that fall between you often.
The week carries on doing simple activities, seizing any opportunity to see each other again any chance either of you get. Gyuutaro doesn’t collect nearly half as many of his usual hours because of it and he already knows his paycheck will suffer dearly for it but he can’t say it was any real loss. The lack of monetary gain is more than accommodated for with your loving laughter and welcoming warmth; tipped a gratuitous amount of unmitigated tenderness and unconditional care.
Paid in your panoply of both subtle and unsubtle displays of affection like sending him to work with a home cooked meal every day, for instance. Packed up nice and neatly in glass containers tucked away into a branded lunch box he’s never once seen you carry around. Always placed into his hands when he reluctantly kisses you goodbye for the night though it does hold an endearingly innocent ulterior motive on your part, hinted at with your ‘firm’ demand for the containers return the next day. Creating an excuse (besides the desire to keep his belly full consistently for the first time in his life) he doesn’t realize is just so he’ll have a built in reason to come over again, not that he ever needed one but it felt easier than outright asking him to come see you every day of the week.
Until the weekend before the end of your holiday arrives and Gyuutaro can see the telltale signs of trepidation that threatens to ruin one of the best weeks you’ve had in a long while. 
The shift in you has Gyuutaro the slightest bit clingier, more doting in his own unique ways and subconsciously caring for you in the way you like to be loved despite having never been told how. He asks if you need groceries just to volunteer to drive you there, adding to it by insisting, “n’ if yer a good passenger princess I’ll take ya on that bike ride you’ve been beggin me for, maybe we’ll get that too sweet coffee ya like too.”
Treating the chore like an exciting excursion, playing dirty by sweetening the deal plus that damning lopsided grin of his is infectious and it only splits wider when you pout bleeds into a tentative smirk. Agreeing to his terms but with an added stipulation, “passenger princess needs her gas pumped and control of the radio.”
He slouches with a quirked brow and faux scowl before hooking his index finger beneath your chin, tipping it upwards to seal his lips over yours in a fleeting press. Muttering a graveled ‘deal,’ acquiescing to ‘staunch’ demands as if the exchange didn’t go exactly in his desired direction, heart warming as you giggle gleefully in victory before gathering your things to leave.
You hated shopping alone but with Gyuutaro it wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking and hard to focus. Wandering down the emptier aisles at a leisurely pace with him at your side and comfortingly placing his hand at the small of your back to guide you through the more crowded ones. Your basket gets filled with far more items and ingredients than it ever has for either of you separately, discussing dinner options and planning meals for certain days so he’ll have leftovers for lunch. Neither of you comment over how domestic the entire process is for the nature of your still undefined relationship, just enjoy the feeling and ease of it all.
Though if you asked Gyuutaro, regardless of if you were around or not, he’d proudly and possessively proclaim that you were his and he was yours. 
He knows you better than most anyone else at this point too, bagging the groceries how you liked to have them sorted without even needing to be told. Gently kneeing your thigh when you try and carry a single bag out to your car and again when you try to do the same whenever you get back home.
“Don’t piss me off brat,” sniped with a notable lack of malice as he shifted his loaded down arms out of your reach, giving you his back as he crossed the threshold of the front door. 
“Or what?” You taunt daringly only to give him little trouble, though not for a lack of serious trying. Looping your arms around his tapered waist and dragging your feet to slow him down to no avail before resorting to swiping uselessly at the bags before they’re all placed onto your countertop. 
He only sucks his teeth at you in response for now, rolling his eyes when you snatch at a bag he reaches for to unpack and stick your tongue out at him for good measure. Repeating that process for each bag as it devolves into a harmless game, tricking one another with twitching hands and sudden jerks when reaching for what’s laid out on the countertop until there’s nothing left. The whole process of the menial task breezed through with your antics, simpering as you bump your refrigerator door closed with your hip. Turning to gather the discarded bags while Gyuutaro faces your pantry, humming as you flatten and fold the plastics before a startled yelp rips from your throat. 
Broad palms placed onto the countertop cage you in as Gyuutaro’s chest presses against your back, the surprise makes you shrink lower but he grabs at you when you squirm, “where’re ya goin?”
His voice still playful but a silky pitch lower than what you’ve heard before, almost purring in your ear as Gyuutaro cups at your jaw, pads of his index finger and thumb pressing into hollows of your cheeks when you whine. He chuckles at you, the sound vibrating against his ribcage as he nips at your ear to elicit more of the enticing sounds from you; breathing you in as he lets his hands rove over your body. 
Periodically pawing at the parts of you he knows are sensitive just to watch you try and drop to your knees to writhe from his hold fruitlessly until you giggle and gasp, “alright alright, let go of me taro.”
Just the response he was hoping for as he handles you with absolute ease, brushing his lips over the slope of your throat as his arms tighten around your natural waist. Hoisting you up just enough so your toes just barely graze the flooring as you flail in the short distance he walks from your kitchen to your living room. Stopping at the furniture placed in the center of the room before he corals you once again, growing bolder by pinning your hips to the frame on the back of your sofa. Lips to the shell of your ear as he shudders out a breathy exhale when you arch your back and the swell of your ass brushes against his crotch, “or what?”
He takes a sick delight in how your eyes widen but leaves no time to dwell on the notion before deft digits make quick work of your button and zipper. He works both of his hands into your pants, massaging at your hips and palming the sides of your thighs as he shimmies the dark denim lower until it pools at your knees. Taking the time to knead appreciatively at the exposed flesh as they crawl higher, cupping your mound and pressing the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your clit as Gyuutaro slouches around you. 
Your breath hitches at the contact but the lack of tension in your body tells him enough that it isn’t unwanted. Encouraging Gyuutaro further by turning your toes inward as he pulls the lacy material to the side to feel you uninhibited, eyes rolling when you twitch in anticipation but he won’t leave you wanting. Parting your folds to play in the quickly gathering slick and he can’t help but think about how much warmer you are than he thought you’d be; warmer than what he’s fantasized about since the end of the week previous. 
He moves almost reflexively, swirling his fingers around your pert bud in firm circles, growing in confidence when your head lolls forward and you brace your forearms on the back of the couch. Ass brushing against his crotch as you go slack in his hold, dipping lower as you spread your legs just a bit more for him, rewarding Gyuutaro with a throaty sigh as he tests out what makes you feel good. A learning experience for the both of you as the sound of slick clicking and shushed suspires mingle in the space between you. 
Working you up after a few testing pressures and motions, guiding you to your climax while his breath dampens the skin of your throat and the sound of him warms the blood in your veins. The coil in your lower belly tightening with intensity as your thoughts race, all of them about him and how he makes you feel, how you think he feels about you. Focusing on how he praises you, encourages you, the feel of his cock prodding at the curve of your ass and the more he coos at you the warmer you feel. 
Clutching at the cushions of the couch for dear life and finally, finally tipping over the edge when he nips at the lobe of your ear and husks, “cum for me baby, show me how good I make ya feel.” 
Shuddering in his hold and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name as you reach rapture, arching your back and he supports you with his free hand as he overstimulates you with the other. Cupping your throat while you moan his name so sinfully while his fingers swirl in lazy circles over your puffy clit, hips twitching and bucking uncontrollably into his hand until you have to grip desperately at his wrist for some reprieve. Heaving a heavy sigh of relief when he relents and occupies himself with littering the slope of your shoulder up to the hinge of your jaw in gentle nips and caste kisses. 
Slowing his affectionate assault, Gyuutaro takes a moment to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, marveling slightly over the pleasure he provided for you. Drinks in how you slack in his hold, leaning into him because the tremble in your legs betray you. He didn’t think it possible for you to look any more beautiful but your blissed out, satisfied expression and the softness to your features that follows proves him wrong.
Letting the moment linger until you regain your bearing before he helps you straighten up by fixing your hair and step completely from your pants after voicing you’d wanted to change. Lovingly kissing your temple with a soft apology for getting carried away but not without a swift smack to your ass and a wink, repeating coyly, “told ya not to piss me off pretty girl.”
He starts dinner while you get comfortable before coming to help cook and you equally split cleanup duty afterwards. Gyuutaro all but corrals you into the living room as soon as he’s done with the dishes, drying his hands on the decorative towels before quickly grabbing at your waist before you had time to notice. 
Eager to get situated on the plush furniture and fluff one of your many throw blankets over you both. Cuddling on the couch soon after, again, with you in his lap and his chin resting on your crown as time ticks by watching all the updates to the shows you’ve taken to enjoying with one another until he checks the time and sucks his teeth.
“Gettin late,” he grumbles as he all but tosses his phone onto the couch cushion beside you, “should probably head home so I can drag my ass outta bed for work tomorrow.” 
You almost visibly deflate, relaxed features devolving with dejection as you reluctantly move from his lap for him to stand. You watch as he rises to full height and takes the time to stretch but you grab at his wrist reflexively before he can move to put on his shoes, releasing him when he turns to you with a quizzical look. Turning fully and squatting down to your eye level when you pull your feet up onto the couch and bring your knees to your chest while you fidget with your fingers the way you always do when you’re working up the nerve for something.
Glancing away quickly when he brings his palm to cup the side of your head, stroking along it soothingly before you groan dramatically. You surprise him with the sound, making his brow quirk and he leans back slightly when you drag your hands down your face before resting your forehead on your knees with another groan. Mumbling something that’s too quiet to be understood but too loud for you to be talking to yourself so he leans closer to you, comically cupping his ear with one eye open wider than the other. 
“Hah?” Scoffed slightly and though he can’t see it you roll your eyes, “that a mouse I hear squeakin at me?”
“I said,” you shoot up with a scowl on pretty features, “why don’t you just stay the night instead.” Rushed out in one breath, like you’d lose the nerve if you’d attempted to deliver the sentence in any other way. 
Your shoulders slack again, tilting your head to lean your cheek on your knee as you fix him with this unintentionally hopeful look, “If you wanted to anyway, you don’t gotta of course. It’s just that it is kinda’ late and I can just bring you to work tomorrow but, you absolutely don’t have to. It's just that you live across town—“ you stumble through your sentence for him to, thankfully, cut off your rambling. 
“Ya had me at ‘I said’ pretty thing, why the hell wouldn’t I wanna stay?” Gyuutaro teases as he leans forward on his haunches, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he flops back onto your sofa, pressing his back into the arm of it. He reaches for you, hand encircling your wrist with ease as he pulls you between his legs and into his arms, “plus ‘m not gonna say no to a night away from my roommate and his girl bein’ loud as shit.” 
“You could’ve just said yes,” you scoff as you reach for his phone and the remote previously tossed to the wayside, handing both to him after you’ve woken the screen to check the time, “one more episode? Then we should head to bed.”
You’re telling rather than asking him, batting long lashes up at him as your chin rests on his sternum as if Gyuutaro could ever really deny you anything you desired but that doesn’t mean he won’t put on his own theatrics. Pulling a giddy little giggle from you when his head lolls back and he heaves an exaggerated sigh but powers on the tv anyway.
But ‘one more episode’ turns to two then four because ‘they can’t just leave it on a cliffhanger like that!’ Until Gyuutaro inevitably has to be firm when he tells you at nearly midnight that, “ much as I’d love to pull an all-nighter with ya, I do have the early mornin shift baby.”
Halfheartedly you pour at him, certain he won’t relent this time but you’re beginning to grow accustomed to asking just the slightest but more of him. He’d say he’s rubbing off on you, secretly he’s happy to notice it even as his thumb and index grab at your plush lower lip as he tuts. The sound of your petulant whine is music to his ears as he cackles before tapping suspiciously closely to your ass. 
“Fine, fine, I guess you win this time,” you groan playfully as you detangle yourself from. Standing and stretching as you hold out your hand to guide him to the bathroom as if he hadn’t spent every day of the week in your home. 
Gyuutaro’s brow quirks high and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips when you push into your bathroom with him in tow. Blood ready to thrum in his veins simultaneously with elated and nervous energy as you yank open the shower curtains.  
Though he deflates quickly with a burning heat stinging the nape of his neck that forces him to grip it to abate the burn when he realizes you’re just preparing the shower for him. He clears his throat as you slip past him in the small space with a cute, “oh one sec,” as you all but scurry into your room. 
The lanky man tails you like the stray he calls Hakuji’s girlfriend and the one he always has been. Standing and yawning as he slouches in your doorway, debating minutely if he should just crawl beneath your cozy looking comforter and force you into his arms with the excuse that he could just shower in the morning. Swaying forward with intent when he’s pulled from his reverie by the sound of your searching. He leans like he’s going to help you in rifling through your drawers before gasping in satisfaction. 
You produce clothes from your dresser that he doesn't remember seeing whenever he snooped through their contents last week, heart skipping a beat and his fists clenching, hidden away by his pockets before you explain without prompt.
“They’re my brothers,” you add quickly, like you couldn’t bear the misunderstanding, “he’s nowhere near as tall as you, though. They’ll probably look like capris but I doubt you’ll want to sleep in jeans. Turning the nozzle up on the shower makes it hotter, down is colder and in is off kay?”
He showers quickly, he has to, as much as he’d like to stand under the spray and let the warm water soothe tight muscles he’s ready to lay down with you in bed. The thought is lame to him, but it’s been on his mind since he’d come over the first night; since he stood in your room and familiarized himself with it just in case he didn’t get the chance to. Groaning to himself as he slouches forward and the water streams from his wet mop of unruly locks and into his face, off his nose and blurring his eyes before he snarls. 
It was too good of a day to let his self-deprecating tendencies ruin it, finishing up what should’ve been a relaxing experience by using a modest amount of your body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. Thinking idly as he steps into just the pair of joggers alone that you liked the same sort of scents his sister liked to use, maybe just a bit sweeter where her preferences are more floral. 
He’ll have to introduce you soon, if you were up for that anyway. It was a miracle he hadn’t mentioned you to her yet with how much time he was spending with you; cautious in case this (like everything else in his life) blew up in his face when whatever deity harbored a grudge against him in particular decided they needed some entertainment.
Gyuutaro finally emerges from the bathroom as he tugs the spacious hoodie on over his head and discards his worn clothes into the hamper with your own. Brow quirking in confusion when he sees the bed still made, no you sized lump beneath the thick comforter. 
“Babe?” Called as he spins on his heel but you scurry hastily from the hall. Tucking your hair behind your ear as you step into the room and close the door behind you.
“Sorry, sorry,” huffed as you cross the room hurriedly as tug your covers back, “thought I heard something. Then I saw I forgot to turn off the oven and then I was making sure the front and the back doors were locked.”
Gyuutaro should be more than alarmed at the mention of forgetting to turn off the oven. Should question if you do that often and if he’s going to need to remind you or check himself before he can rest. 
He should be, he likely will the following day but for now he’s far too captivated by you. Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows thickly when sky blues rove over your body. Drinking in how you don nothing but one of the hoodies he’d left here with only panties underneath. Overtly ogling you, letting his eyes linger on your pillowy thighs before they’re hidden from view when you crawl beneath the covers. 
“Gonna sleep standin up taro?” Cooed cutely as you tap the empty space next to you, “pretty sure this is more comfortable though.” 
You’re so cute to him, every positive descriptor he could use for a person comes to mind when he looks at you. Alluring without trying to be, or maybe you were with the way you pose yourself even beneath the thick comforter. Adorable with the way you smile at him, however impish the expression may be at times. You make Gyuutaro’s mind race but externally he looks calm as he crosses the room to join you even as he retorts, “maybe not with yer popsicle feet.” 
Proving him right instantly as you cling to the warmth of his body, blade of your foot working up his joggers up just enough for your skin to touch his and earn a hiss. A curse from his lips hangs in the air but he resents none of what transpires as you squeal and giggle while Gyuutaro wrestles to return the favor. Gripping at his hoodie to let his cold hands rest at your waist before you offer a truth he’d rather label a concession. 
Finally settling down with your back to him, scooting back into him until you’re contoured to the curve of his body. Finding an acceptable position to cuddle and be cuddled when his leg settles between yours with Gyuutaro’s arm thrown around your torso to keep you close. 
Not that you’d dream of moving away, shimmying lower with an excited energy moments after you’ve both quietly settled together. And you were tired, honestly you were, whenever you’d initially got ready for bed. 
Until Gyuutaro came out of the shower and you fully registered he’d be staying the night. 
You’d cuddled plenty before, all during the week you’ve crawled in his lap or curled comfortably on his chest. You weren’t particularly that shy about anything with him either, not entirely anyway; more bold than you’d certainly ever been with all the times you’ve straddled him and held his face in your hands to kiss him as much as you pleased. 
Going to sleep together was comparatively one of the more innocent, albeit just as intimate, moments with Gyuutaro. 
Heaving a heavy exhale as you scoot ever closer into him, curling into yourself and writhing slightly as you adjust the position of your bodies. Wrapping your arm around Gyuutaro’s as it coils tighter around you, satisfied with the slight change before the sound of his voice sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. 
“Too much energy,” husked almost groggily from the gravel in his tone against the shell of your ear. 
You shift slightly, kissing his knobby knuckles in silent apology as you twist your body once again, “m tryin to get comfy, just a little restless.” 
“Ya sure it’s just that? Don’t really look like yer tryin to go to sleep baby,” voice a low tease as his other arm snakes between the mattress and your waist. Rough pads of fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach as he slides lower, slipping beneath your panties to cup your mound with a sigh and, “need some help?”
You cast a glance in mock innocence over your shoulder at him, a pleading gleam in your eye as you slowly nod your head. 
Not that he was entirely waiting on a definitive answer, having received an explicit enough response when you’d spread your legs wider for him, but; he still had no intention to deny you as he slowly rolls his fingers over your clit until your hips. Testingly at first, varying pressure and motions while he watches what you respond best to until your hips are bucking into his hand and you sigh out his name so sweetly, breathily. 
He builds you slowly at first, basking in the way you respond to him but just when you’re on the cusp of euphoria he pulls his hand away, halting your high so abruptly you voice your frustrations just as Gyuutaro turns you onto your back. 
“Don’t whine,” as he lays you on your back, fingers looped into the band of your panties on either side of your hips before tugging them lower to slip them off your supple thighs to position himself between them. Wasting no time in burying his face in your cunt like a man starved.
You don’t get time to protest, gasping with a roll of your eyes as you arch from the mattress with his first languid stripe up your soaking slit. Gyuutaro lets out a low, rumbling groan at the taste of you that sends pleasant vibrations and shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Lost in you as he laps lazily as your lips, harding whetting his appetite like this before his fingers join the fray, calloused pads playing in the gathering slick before adding just a modicum of pressure to spread your sticky folds as he ducks his head lower. Lids fluttering and he relishes in how your hips twitch just before the tense with each lazy lap until his lips purse around the pert little pearl at the apex of your pussy for a kiss. 
Sweetly, affectionaly before sensually suckling at it in an adoring assault, alternating between rapid lateral flicks of his wet muscle and circling around it until your fingers thread through wavy locks.
Arching slightly from the mattress as your hips twitch minutely into his face, earning a rumbling chuckle from Gyuutaro and another kiss to your puffy clit. Softly sighing his name, broken by a muted moan and choked by a gasp when he resumes the motions he’d found you’d liked the most. 
Humming your approval to him as your thighs tremble around his skull and your nails gently rake along his scalp as he works you over generously. Fueled by every sound and reaction you reward him with, never liking the sound of his name more than how you gasp it as thick digits sink into your greedy cunt gradually.  
Gyuutaro’s middle finger first as he tests the motions and finds a rhythm. His ring finger follows second and it has you spasming without control, biting your lip to stifle the first debauched moan. Surely stoking his ego as you helpless rut into his face with babbled, witless whines of his name as you gripped the sheets beneath you like a lifeline. 
He enjoys watching what he does to you, delights in how helpless you are to the pleasure he provides as the taste of you turns saccharine on his tongue when the coil finally snaps. Exhaling a breathy, “fuuuck, oh ‘taro ‘m cumming,” as the tension bleeds from your body and the roll of your hips falls out of sync with him. 
Left reeling after he’s pulled his fingers from your convulsing cunt and climbing up your body, given no time to consider lamenting the loss as Gyuutaro cups your face for an impassioned kiss. Long tongue swiping over yours as he coos praises at you throatily between dizzying kisses but you’re too focused on the rigid length that pokes into the fat of your inner thigh. Leaky tip steadily staining his borrowed sleep pants as it soaks through his underwear, throbbing and left neglected while he enthusiastically tended to your own pleasure. 
Humming as your fingers thread into his unruly locks and your leg hooks on his hip before moving in one swift motion, flipping your positions to straddle him instead. Arching into Gyuutaro and giggling at the muted sound of surprise that you swallow in chasing kisses, resting your weight on the tops of your thighs. Hovering slightly as your hands splay out over his chest, body alight and still thrumming with the aftershocks of euphoria as you arch into him, hands sliding from his pectorals to his trapezius. 
Your thumbs swipe along the columns of his throat as your lips seal over his with a hum before reaching higher to thread into his hair. Blunt nails scratching soothingly at the curve of his skull as his arms wrap around you to pull you closer. 
His lips seal over yours with a sigh as his hands roam your body, groping intermittently with appreciative groans that grow in volume. 
“Fuck, I want you,” husked against your skin as his head dips to litter your throat with open mouthed kisses. Jagged teeth nipping pleasantly at sensitive flesh as you tilt your head to the side to grant him more access. Whining encouraging when Gyuutaro’s teeth testingly sink into the slope of your throat, moaning unabashedly when he adds more pressure. Not enough to break skin but enough to mark you as his, lovingly marr the unblemished space with the structure of his jaw. 
Every reaction to him fuels him, goads him further and fans the flames of desire even more so as you soak through the lacy garment you wear and his borrowed joggers. Finally reaching between your bodies to grip at the elastic band and pull it down just below his sac to run his leaking tip between your folds. 
“Wait, wait, ‘taro” muttered between hungry kisses, gently pressing your fingers into the planes of his chest, “do you have a condom?” 
There’s a glaze over Gyuutaro’s eyes, lidded gaze “never had a reason to carry one pretty girl,” nosing at your pulse point, lips brushing over the thrumming artery affectionately as he kneads at the juntures of your thighs, “do you?” 
“Um.. no? Was I supposed to?” 
“Nah, m’ glad ya don’t, jealous guy after all” winking as he squeezes at the fat of your ass again and gives you a fleeting kiss, “but if I sink you on my cock I ain’t gonna wanna pull out.” 
It is a little early on for him to even consider breeding you even though, in his shriveled little heart you’ve made room in, he’s certain you’re the one; he doesn’t want to risk scaring you off. Missing how your lips part in a soundless sigh at his comment, if he hadn’t you likely would’ve been pinned to the mattress with the entire length bullied into you in one stroke to feel that delicious burn of the sudden stretch.
Instead you give him a parting kiss that leaves him momentarily confused, subtly shimmying as you litter a trail chaste but loving brushes of your lips over every part of him that you adore. 
First to the corners of his lips that curl up with his devious grins, impish smirks and gentle smiles. Then to the inky black birthmark that decorates both edges of his mouth, dipping lower to his adams apple that always bobs distractingly and sometimes holds your gaze in the times there’s a lull in conversation.  
Your hands glide down his body to dip beneath the material of his hoodie as you straddle his knees. Hem of his borrowed hoodie pooling at your wrists as the pads of your fingers press into the toned flesh of his abdomen, firmer as your push upwards when Gyuutaro stops you. Broad palm and long digits resting on both of your hands to halt your ascent, jarring you slightly, ready to recoil in embarrassment thinking you’d misunderstood and were too forward when his free hand grasps at your chin to keep you in place.
“It’s not that baby, god it ain’t that,” he whispers, moving some loose hairs away from your face and running his thumb over your cheek, “just.. You don’t have to, ‘m not.” His voice softens and the sentence trails as his confidence wanes drastically with no intention to finish it, unsure of how he wanted to explain to you.
If he wanted to explain at all; especially something he thought he’d resolved and absolved himself of at a young age from cruel lessons hard learned. 
You cup his face as lovingly, as you always do, comforting him with touch alone in ways even he didn’t know he needed and Gyuutaro is ever grateful for it as he leans into your palm with fluttering lashes. He’s certain of one thing as you blindly offer him consolation, he’s that same sniveling coward he was as a child. 
He fears rejection but only from you, that it’ll take seeing him laid bare before you for you to finally feel the repulsion someone like you should’ve always felt towards a man like him. 
You’ve proved yourself gentle with his jagged edges though, a sanctuary for him to find solace, time and time again. 
“I want to, please?” your voice is barely a whisper, hand resting gently over his clothed cock, your index finger tracing the outline of his heady length. 
Gyuutaro swallows thickly, the hushed plea and how you palm him making him throb with a need that overshadows his cowardice. He concedes to you once again as he nods, untrusting of his voice to not embarrass or fail him should he try to respond. You flash him a dazzling smile, the same one that had him fisting himself in the shower or in his bed with a pair of your underwear balled to his nose the nights following his days filled with you. 
Would you laugh if he told you that all the simple things you did made him ache for you down to his bones? Probably not, because you’re kind like that, because you’re here with him right now, eager to please. 
His blood roars in his ears and rushes in his veins over the way your fingers dance along his abdomen, pushing up his oversized hoodie to expose the years of his neglect the months of your care could only dream of reversing. 
You can see some of his ribs but they’re far less pronounced than before he’d met you, though much less drastically and the crests of his hips still protrude a little too sharply for either of your liking. 
And even though you’ve never judged him once in the time he’s known you, Gyuutaro still can’t help but hold his breath when the fabric is completely tugged over his head and you run your hands back down his body with such caring adoration. 
You lean forward to kiss him then, a reassuring peck to his lips where your taste still lingers, another to his jaw, mapping a trail down his body to finally press another just below his navel as you untie the drawstring of his bottoms. You can feel his abdomen tense beneath plush lips when you hook your fingers into the material, urging you to press another kiss directly above the elastic band. 
“Lift your hips,” your voice is sweet, gently commanding as he complies with little delay and shimmies from the cotton blend. Your fingers tap up his lithe but densely corded muscled thighs, sliding over his rigid cock that tents the fabric of his underwear before you let soft hand linger over the straining material. His jaw clenches tightly, molars gnawing at the inside of his cheek while you rub your palm over the bulge, kneading coyly and swiping your thumb over the darkened fabric dampened by his leaky tip. 
Finally tugging his boxers down after a few agonizing minutes with a mischievously cute giggle but only just enough to free it of its confines and no lower. His engorged tip taps against his pelvis with a soft pap, saliva pooling on your tongue at just the sight of it, flushed and leaky. 
You ogle him for a long moment and his lips part after his tongue nervously darts out to wet the flesh when your fingers wrap around the base of him. Your palm feels cool compared to the heated skin throbbing beneath it, it makes him hiss reflexively and you flinch slightly but thankfully your confidence doesn’t wane. 
Moderately emboldened as you place your thumb and index fingers on his mons so the underside of his shaft rests in the web of your palm. Keeping his hard cock directly upright as you adjust closer to him, lying on your stomach between his legs. 
His heart could almost skip a beat at the sight of you, how focused you look, he can’t tear his gaze away from how you stare at him. As if Gyuutaro and the pleasure you’ll provide him is the only thing that’s going through that meticulous little mind of yours that he’s come to adore.
Leaning closer as you purse your lips around the mushroomed tip with unwavering eye contact just to tease Gyuutaro as he had earlier. Humming coyly as you pull back with a mischievous quirk to your lips as you take a moment more to appreciate the view. 
Memorizing the was his fingers fist the sheets and his pretty face dusts with a hint of red while his cock twitches in your hold. 
It’s long, just like you thought it would be, thick too with a slight curve and a prominent vein in the underside. The muscles of his abdomen tighten when you test different pressures until you think you’ve found one he appreciates, thumb tracing over the slit of his mushroomed tip to spread the pre that leaks from the tip next.
He lets out a hiss, chest rising and falling a little faster when you give him experimental kitten licks to the head down the underside of his shaft. Tip of your tongue tracing over the vein all the way down only to let the flat of the wet muscle caress his girth as you drag upwards again. 
Ending your teasing as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, taking him in slowly, sensually.  Stretching your lips around it to form a tight ‘o’ before suckling gingerly in a way that earns you a beautiful sigh that has your lashes fluttering open to drink in just what you do to him. 
Only to meet the gaze eyes of clear blue skies now darkened into a stormy cobalt before his hips jerk upwards slightly into your pursed lips with a curse, “fuck baby don’t do that, I could cum just lookin at ya like this.”
You take more of him, hum giddily when he huffs a light “fuck”, threading his fingers into your hair to push the lose strands that fall into your face. It’s tender, the way he tucks some behind your ear and gently holds the back of your head as you bob on his length.
“You’re so pretty,” Gyuutaro whispers, hips thrusting slowly, albeit jerkily, into your mouth. Emitting an involuntary rumbling groan when you hollow your cheeks, taking him in to the base of his cock in tandem with his thrusts. 
You make him more vocal than you’d imagined he’d be, clenching your thighs to abate the throb to your clit from the sound of him. 
Gyuutaro can’t help the noises that escape him before long, jaw falling slack as his head lolls back onto your headboard while he rewards you with his pleasure. He apologizes each time you gag on him, each time he thrusts to the back of your throat that makes your eyes water but you can’t say you hate it, far from. You thoroughly enjoy the way he chases his climax helplessly, using you for his pleasure while still being so loving. 
His hands scratch lightly at your scalp, winding your hair carefully around his fingers, “Yer perfect, shit, yer amazin’— d-don’t stop baby please.” 
You bring your hand down from where you caress his hips, fondling his sac to aid him toward his climax. Humming as you watch his jaw set tightly and Gyuutaro can no longer manage the rut of his hips, fucking up into your face with abandon when the coil finally snap. He lets out a long, relieved moan whenever he finally cums down your throat with a stuttered curse and throaty growl as your only warning. 
He rides his high, fucking your slowly until he’s calmed down and you pull away with an audible pop. Swiping away the drool that dribbled down your chin, smiling to yourself as you appreciate the state you’ve left him in. 
Gyuutaro’s managed to regulate his bresthing when you crawl up his body, tucking into his side with a leg kicked over his own. He presses his lips to your temple after he runs his thumb over the corner of your lips to wipe away the bit of saliva you’d missed. You nuzzle into him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso, warmth radiating between you both, “feelin’ good?” 
“Yeah, feeling great. I think I’m gonna call out today,” he says after a long minute, lacing his fingers with yours over his chest, “it’ll be fine for one day.”
You hum tiredly in response, lifting your head slightly to rest your chin on his chest as a single digit twirls a lock of your hair mindlessly. Simply basking in the afterglow of everything and not just what Gyuutaro has done with you tonight.
He pulls your face to his in a tender kiss, one where you can’t help but smile at the affection, rolling your lip between your teeth when he cups the curve of your skull. 
 “Would ya wanna have lunch with me later? Want ya to meet my sister.”
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voxina · 22 days ago
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JADE has recalled her stint on The X Factor, saying she didn’t know anyone who came away from the show without “some sort of mental health issue”.
The singer-songwriter featured on the talent search programme in 2011 and joined girl group Little Mix when she was 18 years old, an experience she has reflected on in a new interview with The Independent.
The ‘Angel Of My Dreams’ singer admitted that being on The X Factor involved adjusting to “pretty fucked up” things, namely sharing bunk beds with other female contestants, regardless of age.
“Even at 18, I knew there were people who weren’t mentally well in there, keeping everyone up at night,” she said. “I don’t know if there was even security outside the house. It’s scary to think about now, but I was too young to realise that at the time.”
Her comments come after many entertainment world figures have demanded more protections be put in place for young artists following the death of One Direction star Liam Payne, who auditioned for The X Factor during the same series as Thirlwall.
Although she didn’t address Payne’s passing directly, she did mention thinking the series “had to end” after its 2018 conclusion.
“I don’t think that kind of show can exist any more. We’re in a different place now,” she added. “We wouldn’t put someone that’s mentally unwell on a TV screen and laugh at them while they sing terribly. The concept of a joke act on a show is just cruel.”
She said the concept was “all very Roman empire” while joking that it was the “best training ever” for her to enter the music industry. On a more sombre note, she continued: “I don’t know anyone that’s come off that show and not had some sort of mental health issue on the back of it.”
Thirwall also admitted to feeling “conflicted” about criticising the show. “It changed my life,” she explained. “I was from a very normal working-class family up north, I had tried sending demos in to labels, I’d gigged all over, I was doing everything I could to make it, and I needed a show like that to give me a chance.”
She continued to say that she’d guess “five per cent of the people that went on there have come out of it not unscathed, but having survived; the other 95 per cent have suffered in silence.”
Reflecting on how people readjust to normal life after participating in something like The X Factor, she said: “How do you go from being on that show to back to your nine-to-five? How do you get signed to the label, think you’ve made it, and then once your song doesn’t hit the Top 10, you’re just dropped? It’s so savage, this machine that we’re a part of. Even back then, we knew how lucky we were every day that we were still signed.”
[Full article]
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skylarsblue · 2 years ago
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✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes Nine✦
(Sexual Implication) Ghost, trying to be sexy by whispering: Gaggin’ for it, aren’t ya, love? Soap: Nope. Ghost: No? Soap: I don’t gag on anything. Ghost: *404 Error* Soap: …Ghost? Si? Simon, are you alright?
-- Y/N: Let’s play a word association game! Ghost: Why? Y/N: Because I saved your ass last mission and I’m bored, so you owe me. Ghost: *sigh* Fine. Y/N: P e r f e c t . Gaz: ?? Y/N: Cold. Ghost: Winter. Y/N: Spring. Ghost: Mattress. Y/N: Soft. Ghost: Comfortable. Y/N: Pleasant. Ghost: Sunset. Y/N, With a shit eating grin: Beautiful. Ghost, unconsciously: Johnny- Y/N: YES Gaz: OHHHHHH Ghost: Soap: *gasp* Simon!~ Ghost: I’m going to go crash in a heli. Y/N: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT-
-- Alex: Bitch do you want me to jump across this table? Because I don’t have all day for this. Norris: You feeling froggy? Leap. Alex: Okay, well here I come- Farah: Alex no, no- hOLD OFF
-- (NSFW Joke) Y/N: Oh sorry. I almost drank out of your cup. Soap: Wh-Just go ahead, it won’t matter! Y/N: Well I- Yeah no, you’re right. I’ve drank out of your cups dozens of times. Soap: We’ve sucked the same dick- Y/N: That’s a good point! Ghost: ….*sigh*
-- Gaz: What kind of girl do you like? Soap: My wife. Gaz: And you? Ghost: Johnny’s wife. Gaz: OH- Price, knowing they recently started a poly situation: Pfft-
-- (Use of the word pussy because haha) Gaz, filming: Pffft- Soap: Shhshh- Y/N in the hallway: FORTY THREE FUCKING CENTS! AHHHHH Soap: *wheeze* Y/N: I NEED A SUGAR DADDY!! Gaz: PFFFT- Soap: I can’t breathe- Y/N: At this rate I’m ready to plaster my fuckin’ pussy on the sidewalk for some sPARE CHANGE! Gaz & Soap: *doing that silent cackle thing and smack each other in the arm* Ghost, leaning into the room: What the f- Y/N: SPAARE CHANGE, SPARE CHANGE! ANYONE GOT ANY SPARE CHAAANGE?! Gaz: *coughing* Soap: Steamin’ Jesus I’m fucking crying- Y/N, passing by the room: 🎵Walkin’ in a winter wonderlaaaand🎶
-- Y/N: Would you love me? Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Would I love you if…? Y/N: nO ThAt wAs tHE QuesTiOn-
-- Y/N: Pretty boy! With me I said! Rudy: Rudy: Rudy: Oh I’m pretty boy! Y/N: Yes! Oo that came out a bit quick- (Also works with Soap & Gaz, honestly)
-- (THIS IS A CONCEPT IM TOO WHIMPY TO WRITE, SO HAVE IT HERE! THIS COULD WORK WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS Also, NSFW warning) Ghost: I don’t miss. Y/N, on his ear piece: Never? Even with distractions? Ghost: *turns his scope* Not ever. *just about to take a shot* Y/N: Hmm…what if I went… Mm Simon~ Ghost: *misses* Y/N: Ya missed. Ghost: Cheeky bitch…
-- Gaz: Alright, so, since we’re now in America and we have some time to kill, I went and I got you something. Y/N: Aww Gaz, you really didn’t have to- Gaz: *puts down their Whataburger order* Y/N: OH MY GOD Price: Really? Gaz: *shrug* Soap: *snickering as Y/N Fucking demolishes some fries* Y/N, having the time of their life: Garrick you ever need your dick sucked, a dead body buried, a beer or whatever, you call me. I got’chu Gaz: BAHA- Soap: *wheeze* Ghost: Are you fucking crying? Y/N with their mouth full: I missed it so much.
-- (Team bonding exercises) Soap: You’re a football player, it’s in ya blood! Gaz: That’s racist. Soap: Your soul? Gaz: That’s racist! Soap: …your eyes? Gaz: That’s gay- Soap: That’s homophobic. Gaz: That’s black. Soap: That’s racist!! Gaz: Damn- (this one is extra funny since Gaz is now confirmed LGBT)
-- Gaz: You overrated little twink! Soap: Hey I am a TWUNK, alright?! That is a combination, twink, and HUNK, get it?? Hunk-
-- Soap: Hey~ Fem!Y/N: You’re Gay. Soap: …oh yeah. Soap: *looks at Ghost* Soap: Hey.~ Ghost: *sigh*
-- Soap: I’m gonna have to meet men lying down. Y/N: …I thought’cha did?? Soap: OI!
-- Soap: Everyone says what a giving person I am! Y/N: He’s talking about when you’re in an upright position.
-- Graves: What if there’s a connection? Y/N: I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.
-- Shepard: Now you’re always ornery, rude, unpleasant, and sometimes downright mean. That’s part of your charm. Y/N: Thank you, you colluding-county-hopping-idiotic-relic. Price: *pride*
-- Alex: Oh my god, how are you such a good driver? Soap: Because there’s illegal shit in here. Alex: Soap: Because if I don’t use my turn signal, we’re both gonna do fifteen. Because I am going to lie and say yours. Alex: ….. Soap: Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Alex: *clicks it in places* Soap: You are not safe!
-- (Sucking dick joke) Kidnapper: You’re gonna do as I say or I will make you regret ever being born. Y/N: Oh please, I’ve sucked dicks more intimidating than you. Soap: Oh this is why Simon was the way he was after we rescued you both last time.
-- Soap, shoving marshmallows in his mouth: This isn’t very ha-*chokes* MILF!Y/N, across the fucking base: ….*mom instinct* Price: ??? Ghost: Uh- Y/N: Something just happened. Kyle: PFFT-
-- MILF!Y/N: *letting Soap & Gaz lean on her while Price and Ghost stand close behind* Untrue. I’m a mother now. It’s really changed my perspective. Graves: And do you find it hard juggling life and a career? Y/N: You can juggle these nuts.
-- Soap: *rambling* Soap: Agh, sorry, I’m just goin’ on and on- Ghost: Oi, keep talking before I kick your ass. Soap: ….. Gaz: See? This is exactly what I m-where the fuck are these flower petals coming from?? ARE THOSE SPARKLES??
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rivereclipse · 27 days ago
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Ichigo's Ray of Light
Hi! This is my first post related to IR and although I read several IR theories and analysis, I just wanted to share my cents about IR so please bear with my grammars as it was not my first language and there's a lot of spoiler written down there.
--
So as the title mentioned, we all know whom Ichigo's ray of light is. Well, it's definitely Rukia. Now, I always wonder why Rukia is Ichigo's ray of light. I think her name was based on a plant which sounds Rukia (sorry I can't find the said plant) and her name was actually written in hiragana. Kubo Tite also found out that her name's meaning was "Light" which fits the character and her purpose to the main character.
Rukia is really a catalyst to Ichigo. Aside from that she was the one who gave him the power and strength to protect his loved ones and people around him. He also mentioned in the end of Rukia/Soul Society rescue arc "Thank you, Rukia. Thanks to you... I think the rain... has stopped."
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But how Rukia was able to stop Ichigo's rain and what was the connotation of rain on Ichigo?
Ichigo's mother died when he was nine years old. He truly believes he was the one who killed her because her death was unexplained and was no justice given. I think his inner soul was raining throughout the years he was depressed and was drowning in a lot of emotions. Loneliness, powerlessness, helplessness, disappointment. Those are the emotions he was feeling before meeting Rukia. I believe that he was grieving alone for his mother every year that they come to his mother's grave.
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Ichigo was confronted by Rukia suggesting that his mother's death might be caused by a hollow which, he denied it and claiming that he was the one who killed her. Which leads them in a heated argument.
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Rukia gave him space and waited for him to warm up to her and ready to share his burden with her which I think that lights up his heart a bit since he felt someone understood him. Someone understood what he really needed. He needed space for himself to digest what really happened and for him to allow his emotions to be channeled properly. I think she was very intuitive and understand how deep she will dive to his emotions. It is actually same goes with him but that's another topic.
I also think that Ichigo was not really able to talk how he feels about his tragic past and still in the process of figuring out how to deal with his emotions since he is still a teenager and that incident happens when he was a nine year old boy.
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When Ichigo learned the truth about the young girl six years ago. How his mother was eaten because Grand Fisher's favorite was a woman when he was supposedly the one baited and will be eaten due to his high Spiritual Pressure. His emotions was stirred up and tries seeking for revenge and justice by settling it on his own hands when he was faced to Grand Fisher and mold his bait into the appearance of his mom.
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His mother's last thoughts were transferred to the hollow so Ichigo was able to see her thoughts in which, she was grateful and proud of him. She also wanted him to leave peacefully and happy. Although he didn't defeat the hollow completely as it escaped but it did gave him a closure to his tragic past.
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His father also comforted him and told him that he was not blaming Masaki's death. He wished him to get over his depression and live well and happy according to his mother's wishes.
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He got a motivation to continue on being a shinigami and be strong since he wanted to protect and seek revenge for his mother's death or else his pride as a son, brother, and as himself can't face it.
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If he wasn't a Shinigami, I think Ichigo will continue to carry on his grieving for his mom. He will not learn the truth about his mother's death. Worse, he will be much more drown to a lot of emotions while growing up and if he didn't address those, he may be miserable as an adult and a lot of traumas may resurface that he needs to address.
Rukia was the one who lights up and stopped the rain on Ichigo's world. She was the one who shed the truth by suggesting that a hollow may be the culprit. Somehow, she became the bridge on Ichigo's closure towards his tragic past. She also the one who gave him powers not only to protect his loved ones and people around him, but also an opportunity to defend his pride by not participating on his battle and help him.
She knocked his senses whenever he was feeling down whenever he feels disappointed in himself when his friends got hurt like Inoue and Chad when the espadas first visited the Living World and attacked them. She also believed him when he first feeling the hollow inside him. She is also the one who brings back his powers when he lost and feel powerless to Ginjo. She also uplifts him when he was betrayed by the people he loved and alone. She put faith on him when all the people in Soul Society thought he will sided with the enemy once he got his power back.
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Somehow, I just wanted to give an emphasis on this panels/episode since I think it shows how Rukia was able to bring light to Ichigo and healing his past wounds by bringing closure to him. Although she did not do it directly but crossing paths with her ignites the destiny, knowledge, power, and transformation on Ichigo's life journey.
Truly, Rukia is the catalyst on Ichigo's life and truly the light of his life.
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thornedrose44 · 1 year ago
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Lena Luthor: Random Crap Generator
Read on AO3
She liked to think it was a gift from her mother - her final wish or a blessing.
Or maybe even a bizarre recompense from a universe that believed the smallest smidge of magic made up for depriving a girl of her mother. (It was the equivalent of the sun going out and being given a match with the propensity to sputter and die or generate a light unable to cast further than three feet ahead.)
It was still magic - something tangible, individual and beyond understanding - and even in her childish heart, that was so overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, it provided a spark of giddiness and excitement. It made her feel special. 
What would it be today?
A lily so she had something to lay on her mother’s coffin.
An umbrella to shield her when she was caught in an unforecasted shower, sat on the curb by the police station waiting for the strange man in fancy clothes to pick her up and take her to her new home.
A chess piece - white knight - to replace the one that Lex had lost when they had moved the board from the living room to the garden for the day, it meant they could play and pretend to ignore the raised voices of Lionel and Lillian.
A pencil to replace the one that snapped in her first lesson on her first day at school.
It was impressive until Lena grew used to it. Learned that there were limitations. 
It was never anything substantive or of high value, it had to fit in her hand, had to be small and low value as if whatever this ability was could only pull items from a ninety-nine cent store. She got one item a day. It would be there in her hand when she woke up and then it would vanish when she fell asleep.
(She tested it out, working out what it was linked to - a time or the actual act of sleeping. She stayed up all night, holding tight to the sleep mask she’d had awoken that morning with to see when it would disappear. It remained resolute and real. It wasn’t until she fell asleep in the late morning, eye mask pulled on to block out the bright sunlight that it vanished at some point during her exhaustion-induced nap.)
It was during her teen years - particularly the angsty goth phase she leaned into - that she dubbed her power ‘The Random Crap Generator’ (unsurprisingly the name stuck).
The item didn’t tell her the future but gave some decent hints which, as Lena grew older, was more appreciated than the actual cheap item itself. 
The earplugs she woke up to in her hand on her first day at college let her know that the girl next door did not understand that the walls were thin, her moans were loud and pretending that her boyfriend was an effective lover did not actually make it so.
The roll of quarters pre-warned of the washing machine in the shared college house was broken before Jack and Sam yelled for her help in fixing it. 
(The condom was particularly embarrassing and made her acutely aware of the most likely outcome of the fancy date that Jack had planned for that evening).
The cuddly brown bear told Lena that Sam’s water would break two weeks earlier than expected.
Most of the time it was harmless or a helpful nudge.
Other times, though, it was a gut punch or an omen that left her on tenterhooks for the whole day.
Lena remembered waking to find bandages in her hand and small alcohol wipes. She’d had injuries before - fencing could get brutal and every engineer has their personal soldering story that keeps them vigilant for all future interactions. But this was different. It was different because she was set to wear a wire that day. It was different because she now knew what her brother was capable of. She couldn’t take the bandages with her, it would have undermined her role - the doting sister who could never imagine her brother causing her harm. She tucked them into her nightstand and later when she made her way home after hours at the police station - the officers already starting to sneer at her despite her crucial help - she’d come home and retrieved the morning supplied medical items and tended to the damage on her wrists from Lex’s too tight handcuffs.
Then there was the day she woke to something small and cold in her hand. She’d rolled it on her fingertips under the quilt, hoping that when she finally pulled it free and studied it that it wouldn’t be what she suspected it was. She kept the bullet with her, tucked into a hidden pocket of her suit. A single bullet without a gun doesn’t attract much attention. When she picked up the gun and found the chamber empty, she didn’t even bother to check that the bullet was the right type. She knew it would be. One shot was all she needed, and then Lex was bleeding out in front of her.
The days following that she awoke to a box of tissues and she worked away her way through them diligently - until she had no tears left to shed and her heart couldn’t break any further.
She ignored the small compact mirror that was in the palm of her hand every morning as she sought revenge and retribution. She threw it in the trash, out a window, ran over it with her car and even destroyed it with a controlled explosive. Regardless, the exact same mirror (cheesy pink casing and slightly chipped in the corner) would appear and Lena belligerently refused to study herself in it - aware of the unfamiliar darkness she would see brewing in her eyes.
(The day after she had reached out to Kara to repair their damaged relationship and return to the light, she awoke to a simple gold star sticker stuck to the palm of her hand - the exact gold star stickers her Mom had given for completing little chores and tasks. She had cried into the pillows until they were damp and her cheeks red and flushed.)
A red, blue and yellow friendship bracelet - fraying on the ends but clearly made with love and care - was clasped tight in a fist when she awoke every morning during Kara’s absence as if to serve as tether or connection until her return.
Xxx
Despite her Random Crap Generator (trademark pending), Lena had still struggled to believe in magic. 
(Mostly because if magic was real, what was the point of her entire career and scientific pursuits? If magic was real and could do so many amazing things, why did her mother walk into the sea? Why if there was so much wonder and things beyond what they could merely see, why wasn’t it enough for her mother? Why? Why? Why?)
She didn’t understand her power but she believed that there was an explanation that was simply yet to reveal itself - her main working theory was time travel. A version of herself in the future - who for some reason only had a bucket of bargain items on hand indicating a rather dramatic change in her financial circumstances - sent back ‘useful’ items for each day of her life in the hope to aid her without causing some dramatic paradox.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to say that all again…” Kara requested, crease between her brows so deep it almost looked endless.
“Which part exactly?” Lena frowned as they sat down for breakfast in Kara’s apartment.
“The part where you’ve been magical since a little girl and yet belligerently refused to believe in magic? Or the part where you're only telling me this now?” Kara spluttered, resisting even starting the stack of pancakes in front of her to instead question Lena, which told her this was a ‘serious’ matter.
“I just…” Lena waved a hand and shrugged, “didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
“Wha- I- you- Argh!” Kara aggressively stabbed her pancakes and shoved a chunk into her mouth chewing angrily.
Lena sighed, “Look it’s not like it’s…” She hesitated wondering if they were at a stage in their renewed friendship (post-reveal, post-revenge, post-apology, post-Lex, post-sharing-your-super-secret-with-the-whole-world) to nod back to it in a gentle way. “Cool superpowers. It’s a hairband when my one snapped the day before. It’s a chocolate bar when I have low blood sugar. It’s… it’s crap.”
Kara gasped in outrage at the descriptor. “It’s not crap!”
“Kara… Come on.” Lena rolled her eyes.
“My best friend’s magical abilities are not crap.” Kara declared, chin lifted with determination, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Lena’s forearm - hand remaining there even once the comforting touch had been provided.
(They were doing that more often, reaching out and maintaining contact. It was simple and affectionate, and from afar it would be considered merely friendly but up close? Up close you could see how Lena’s cheeks became rose-tinted, how Kara’s breath caught and how they both snuck glances at one another, their smiles small yet greedy.)
“Regardless,” Lena continued clearing her throat, and trying to ignore the swoop in her stomach, as her voice softened to something apologetic and deeply sincere. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
She hadn’t even really told Kara either, her ability outed itself. She and Kara had had their twice weekly sleepover (Lena didn’t study the ramifications of them having their own drawer and closet space at each other’s places), and upon waking to Kara’s arm slung over her waist and face pressed to her back, Lena found a full pack of pancake mix in her hand which Kara had immediately queried. 
It sort of all came tumbling out from there.
“I appreciate that.” Kara acknowledged, lips shiny with syrup as she smiled at Lena. 
“Thank you.” Lena nodded.
“But seriously how could you not believe in magic with all that going on?”
Xxx
They started sleeping over at each other’s places more and more. Kara was curious about Lena’s power and had the child-like wonder with each new day’s offering that Lena had lost over the years. Even if Lena couldn’t help but indulge in Kara’s joy, there were other benefits to incentivise her.
Kara would hold her close in bed, pulling her back against her chest, nose sneaking through the locks of her hair to trace the nape of her neck. Lena would press yesterday’s item into Kara’s hand, who always held onto it with the vain hope that if she held it just right it wouldn’t vanish, whilst Lena would keep her right hand held out across the mattress so upon waking whatever had appeared would be instantly visible.
The first morning there was a bright red box with a handle; Lena had handed it over to Kara immediately who giddily turned the handle producing the shrill childish music before popping loudly to reveal a jack-in-the-box. 
Lena had never loved her ability more than she did in that moment.
xxx
“Ugh…” Alex groaned, sniffling loudly as she collapsed onto the stool next to Lena. 
“Everything okay?” Lena queried, flinching away when Alex sneezed violently into the crook of her arm.
“Sorry,” Alex mumbled, voice nasally, “Esme picked up a cold from school and it's taken me and Kelly out. I’m at least somewhat mobile so I took Tower duty.”
“Sounds like this is for you, then.” Lena said, without really thinking about it, handing over the cold and flu medicine she’d been granted that morning.
“Huh?” Alex frowned, accepting the medicine, “Thanks… did you just have this on you?”
Lena hesitated for a second, “You could say that.”
Alex’s gaze narrowed, “Did Kelly message you to pick this up for me?”
“No, I just had it to hand.” 
Alex blinked, “Wait is this… like yours?”
“Mine?” Lena repeated.
“You know…” Alex held out her hand and opened and closed it repeatedly. “Creation magic.”
“Temporary Random Crap Generator.” Lena corrected and confirmed.
“So, if I take this medicine and you go to sleep, would the drug just disappear from my bloodstream?” Alex questioned.
“Not sure, I think it would if I was given a different item upon waking but if I generated the same item, I don’t think so. That’s what happens when I’m ill, I keep getting the medicine until I’m better.” Lena explained.
“Hmph…” Alex replied, eyes watery and cheeks flushed enough to stop her from interrogating further, she shrugged and took her medicine as Lena returned to her work. “Hey… what… what is this branding?”
“Hmm?”
“This look like it's from the nineties?” Alex said, looking utterly perplexed, “Is it like retro or something?”
Lena glanced at the bright colours and blocky design that marked it as older than the sleeker and simpler designs of today. “Uhh… yeah, it must be.”
She’d never really considered the design, whenever she got sick she didn’t go to the pharmacy for over the counter medication, she always awoke with the simple medication she required - anything requiring a prescription was beyond her crap generator abilities. It had never really clicked that the medicine she received was exactly the brands her mother used to stock their medicine cabinet with. 
“Hey, I’m tired and for once there is no crime…” Alex began, glancing furtively around - it was just them and Brainy at the tower since Kara was training Nia to help her take point on missions, meaning Kara could step away from the cape for longer periods as required, and J’onn was having a much earned day off.
Lena raised an eyebrow waiting for the follow-up.
“Want to design some experiments for your RCG?” Alex suggested, a sparkle appearing in her eyes - scientific curiosity that wasn’t indulged as often anymore.
“RCG?” Lena questioned as Brainy popped his head into the room, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Did someone say design an experiment?”
“For Lena’s Random Crap Generator powers - RCG.” Alex explained.
Lena rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help but smile, “Sure, why not?”
“YES!” Brainy and Alex both yelled in excitement.
Xxx
They were all from home. 
As in her mother’s home. Or more generally from her childhood.
The tissues, the medicine, the sweet treats, the gold stars, even the bullet. (Her mother had kept a gun in the back of her closet, she didn’t think Lena knew but Lena had seen her cleaning it when she couldn’t sleep one night). All of it. 
It explained the low cost nature of it all, they’d lived very simply and shopped at the local stores which were always plentiful with their random items and knick-knacks. 
They’d spent the day tracing the items, looking up each one to confirm the hypothesis. Kara had come in and stuck close to Lena’s side, hand on the small of her back throughout it all. It wasn’t until they returned home (together as always) that Lena broke. 
“Hey, it’s okay.” Kara soothed, effortlessly picking her up and taking her straight to bed to lie down.
“I’m sorry, I don't know why I’m crying.” Lena sobbed, curling into Kara’s chest.
Kara kissed her forehead, “You don’t need to know why. You can just cry.”
Lena took the advice to heart and sobbed until her chest ached and her face felt puffy. She fell asleep cradled in Kara’s arms and when she awoke it was to the teddy she’d had when she was a child held close to her chest. 
“You knew I wasn’t okay before I did.” Lena breathed into the still morning air. She knew Kara was already awake - her breathing was an edge to light and her thumb was stroking back and forth on Lena’s stomach to soothe her. Lena turned around to face Kara, the teddy bear held tight in her arms as she met gentle blue eyes.
“Yes.” Kara confirmed, gaze flickering over Lena’s features.
“How?”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t miss it the next time.” Kara replied, volume low as if to create a private bubble that was just their own.
“Miss what?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Your sadness. Your hurt.” Kara whispered, “I don’t want you to ever face those things alone again.”
Lena inhaled a shaky breath, hand shyly reaching out to cup Kara’s face, “Kara…”
Kara turned her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of Lena’s hand, her eyes slipping closed as if to fully concentrate on absorbing the contact. 
“I didn’t have anything from Krypton for so long.” Kara revealed slowly, head turning back to look at Lena who took the opportunity to trace Kara’s features tenderly with her fingertips - keeping them linked and bound. “My Mother’s necklace was pretty much all I had. Kal-El kept the fortress to himself for a long time as he wanted me to assimilate and the DEO took my pod.
“I had nothing left but memories and they were shaky, and I would weep for every detail lost over time. A rhyme my friends would sing. The ingredient quantities for my Father’s favourite treat. The exact shade of my Mother’s favourite dress. I know material objects aren’t as important as the memories but they can provide comfort. Give solidity to the events. Evidence that they really happened and don’t just live in your head but were real and tangible too.”
“How could they have taken so much from you?” Lena murmured desperately - she was referring to the DEO, to Kal, to the universe. Why did it take, take, take and leave so little in return? Especially from someone like Kara who would give and give and give without thought for herself.
“They took from you too, Lena.” Kara soothed, reaching out to run a hand over the fuzzy fur of Lena’s bear (a bear that Lillian had snatched away from her a week after arriving at the mansion). “When I found my pod in the DEO…” Kara glanced away, jaw working, “I curled up inside it and cried myself to sleep. I never told anyone.”
Lena shuffled closer, noses near touching and air shared. “I didn’t recognise them, I didn’t… make the connection.”
“It was all you knew as a kid, it was normal, it’s only as time has gone by and the items have remained the same that… you could see it.” Kara explained patiently.
“I feel like I forgot her.” Lena admitted, choking back a sob.
“You didn’t.” Kara said.
Lena sniffled, “Do you think…”
“Do I think?” Kara encouraged when Lena broke off.
“Do you think it's my magic or my mother’s?” Lena asked, wanting Kara to make her believe in the impossible once more. To believe that love was more potent than anything in the universe.
“Does it matter?” Kara replied, “Your mother gave you a safe and happy childhood with the smallest of things, and whether she cast the spell or you did… she was the one that showed you how the tiniest of items can provide the greatest of joy. She did that and you’ve carried it on.”
xxx
“Lena, are you alright?” J’onn inquired kindly, slowly approaching her worktop. 
Lena looked up, shoulders slumped and a slight shake to her hands that prevented her from assisting with the sensitive work that she had been working on with Brainy to handle their villain of the week - an alien that secreted a burning chemical preventing Kara from getting close without receiving burns that took her an entire day to heal. Lena had been relegated to a computer supporting Alex in tracking the aliens movements.
“I…” Lena began, hands frozen over the keyboard before faltering.
“You need not tell me what is bothering you, I merely wish to make you aware that I am here if you require anything.” J’onn murmured. “Nia is looking out for Kara as well.”
“Is she okay?” Lena queried panickedly, remembering how tightly Kara had hugged her that morning and how she promised everything would work out.
“Of course.” J’onn reassured, “She was noted to be more withdrawn than usual and Nia is keeping watch on her demeanour.”
“Oh… good.” Lena sighed.
J’onn waited a beat, clearly allowing Lena to decide if his presence was still wanted.
“It was a box of tissues.” Lena confessed. 
“Your gift?” J’onn checked, moving to take the seat next to Lena - correctly identifying the revelation as an invitation.
Lena nodded.
“Does it always herald something bad?” 
Lena bit her lip and nodded once more.
“I see.” J’onn hummed. 
“What if something happens to Kara?” Lena asked, feeling small and so childish for even voicing the question.
But J’onn didn’t tsk or even reject the possibility, he merely considered this for a long moment.
“Then we handle it. Together.” J’onn said. It was the simplicity and definitiveness of it that helped, Alex had tried too hard to say everything would be okay, but J’onn accepted the possible future and didn’t turn away from it.
“I feel like I’m waiting for the end of the world.”
“Would you like to hold my hand?” J’onn offered, hand moving to rest on the worktop between them. “Until Kara comes back?”
Lena swallowed thickly before reaching out and clinging tightly to J’onn’s hand.
Later, when Brainy had stabilised the neutralising agent and the alien was safely locked away, not a single scratch on Kara in the fight, Lena was nervously waiting on the balcony for her return - J’onn squeezing her hand once more before leaving her to await Kara’s return.
There was a flash - a flicker in her vision - her hair sent wildly off in every direction and loose bits of clothing (her untucked blouse) billowing in the rush of wind.
“Are you okay? Has anything happened?” Kara questioned, warm hands cradling Lena’s face, blue eyes wide and frantic. 
“I-”
“I kept safe, I promise.” Kara rushed on, “I wasn’t stupid, I wouldn’t risk- I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
“I know, Kara, I know.” Lena replied, hands reaching for Kara’s hips - needing to feel that she was really there with her own hands. 
“I won’t let anything terrible happen, okay?” Kara promised desperately.
“It’s okay, it’s okay if it does.” Lena said; Kara blinked jolting in place slightly. Lena’s hands slipped round Kara’s hips to the small of her back, pulling them closer together until there was no space between them. “Because we’ll face it together. El mayarah.”
“El mayarah.” Kara repeated, gaze dropped to Lena’s lips, studying how she said the words of her family intently. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 
Lena inhaled and then Kara’s lips were pressed to her own, warm and welcome in the cold night air. Kara’s hands moved from Lena’s face, one twisting through her hair guiding her this way and that, and the other to her waist pushing her against the nearest wall. Locking them in.
Kara kissed her with a level of confidence and certainty that revealed how deeply she’d thought about this, had choreographed it for nearly every scenario, adapting it to suit every little bit of knowledge Lena had given her about how she liked to be touched and treated. Her grip was strong but her lips gentle, and Lena couldn’t help but melt.
Every wall and emotional barrier swept away like melted ice with a single sweep of Kara’s tongue.
“Kara,” Lena choked out, needing air.
Kara pulled back immediately, her own lips red and wet, her golden curls tangled and practically debauched. “Lena.. you’re…”
Lena reached up to her cheeks and felt the tracks of the silent, jubilant tears. “Oh.”
“Happy tears?” Kara grinned.
“The happiest.” Lena beamed, arms wrapping around Kara’s neck to pull her back in.
xxx
“Darling, is everything okay?” 
“Swell!” Kara replied overly chirpy, her smile that edge too stiff to be one hundred percent true. 
“Swell?” Lena giggled, grabbing Kara’s hand on the table and squeezing comfortingly.
“I mean… Great! Good! Fantastic!” Kara corrected enthusiastically. “Does the food taste good?”
“Excellent.” Lena complimented, savouring the taste of the meal Kara had been working on and stressing over all afternoon for their one year anniversary. 
“Yeah?” Kara breathed out, the relief obvious in how her shoulders dropped a couple of inches from around her ears.
“Yes.” Lena confirmed leaning over the corner of the table to kiss her girlfriend sweetly. “Thank you so much for cooking. I love how much effort you put into this.” She paused before gathering her courage to add, “It makes me feel special.”
“You are special.” Kara affirmed immediately before sucking in a deep breath - chest expanding. “I was going to wait until dessert but I don’t think I can.”
Lena tilted her head to the side curiously, only to let out a gasp of delight as Kara slipped off her chair and kneeled next to Lena’s, holding Lena’s hand between both of her own.
“Lena,” Kara began, voice warming as she went on, “you are my best friend but you are also so much more than that. You help me to hope and believe when the days are darkest. You inspire me to never give up. You bring me laughter and happiness in thousands of ways I never thought possible for myself. You make everyday feel like a gift with endless possibilities. Best Friend and Girlfriend feel inadequate terms for how much of myself belongs to you, how much of myself wants to be yours. So, Lena Kieran Luthor, will you do me the greatest honour of my entire existence? Will you marry me?”
Lena was already nodding at the start of the speech and the second the question was asked, Lena pushed herself off her chair and into Kara’s arms.
“Yes, yes, yes!” 
Kara got to her feet, lifting Lena up in the process and twirling them round and round their shared home. She gently placed Lena back onto her own feet and reached into the pocket of the blazer she was wearing.
“Oh no…” Kara muttered, expression turning horror struck, “Oh Rao, no.”
“Kara? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find the ring.” Kara said, shucking off her jacket and turning it upside down as if it was merely tucked away somewhere inside it. “I was so sure it was in my pocket, it must be somewhere.” She dropped the item to the ground, head rotating left and right, x-ray vision inevitably sweeping the area in order to find it, “I’ll be right back, I-”
“Kara, it’s okay.” Lena interjected, laying a hand on her arm, keeping her (hopefully) fiancee in place with the lightest of touches.
Kara wrung her hands, looking utterly disheartened, “No, you should have a ring-”
“I do have one.” Lena replied, pulling a large mood ring off the index finger of her right hand.  “I think this is for you. It appeared this morning.”
Kara took it, brow furrowing in amazement, “You had this since this morning?”
“Mmhmm…” Lena hummed, holding out her left hand.
Kara carefully cradled her proffered hand and smoothly slipped the mood ring onto her ring finger. “Have I ever told you how useful your power is?”
Lena beamed, “Everyday.”
434 notes · View notes
heartseungs-archive · 6 months ago
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going below zero | l.dh
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genre ❄ coworker au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, fluff, angst pairings ❄ attorney!donghyuck x attorney!reader word count ❄  10.2k synopsis ❄ Considering how much Haechan makes it his personal mission to antagonize you at work, it seems like a rather cruel twist of fate that the both of you have been side by side since middle school, the only consolation being that his office is a different floor from yours. But if there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with him might just be the opposite, and it’ll take a family ski holiday to find out. warnings ❄ mentions of alcohol info ❄ merry christmas everyone!!! i hope you enjoy this small present and hava a very warm holiday wherever you are  <3 (it's currently below freezing in seoul and I'm typing this barely half-alive in my hotel room at 1.50am after returning from gocheok sky dome)
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You enjoy your job. Mostly.
Besides the long hours, gruelling paperwork, inefficient district judiciary, and shitty coffee, of course. It’s all bearable, especially if you think about the multiple zero digits in your annual salary and the occasional bonus. And of course, you’ve developed a certain fondness for your office, which gives you a lovely view of the palaces and Seoul’s skyline.
“Y/N. Your coffee.” Karina passes you one of two mugs, specifically the one with daisies on it. Everyone working on your floor has made a deliberate effort to get distinct coffee mugs out of disdain for sharing, and you’re all the more grateful for it, especially on days like this. You take a tentative sip, and barely prevent yourself from spitting it out.
Maybe the burnt espresso will be the tipping point for your resignation after all.
“I still can’t believe the tenth floor shares their cups communally. Renjun would flay us if we tried suggesting it,” Karina mutters. She’s dressed in a form-fitting suit today, blouse slightly untucked. It’s been two years since she joined as a paralegal, and you’ll miss having her careful eye to look over your documents. Still, if there’s anyone deserving of becoming an associate, it’s her.
“It’s what happens when you have a floor that’s ninety-per cent men. Especially with people like him.” Your voice narrows to a sharp point, and Karina already knows who you’re talking about.
“I still don’t know what’s up with the both of you,” she muses, and you shrug. “It’s a long story. One that I’ll tell if I’m drunk and tired. Unfortunately, it’s currently-” you steal a glance at your watch, “-nine-thirty on a Monday morning, so wrong time.”
She gives a nod of acceptance, grimacing at the harrowed expression on your face. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be outside.”
“Wait. Karina,” you call out, and the girl halts, arching an eyebrow at you. “Where’s the case that we were working on last week? The medical negligence one.”
There’s a nervous expression on her face when she takes in your words, and you don’t have a good feeling about what she’s going to say next.
“Karina. What is it.”
She smiles sheepishly, and that’s when you really start getting scared.
“Haechan…said he could take over because you were busy with your current ones and Mr Kim agreed. It happened when you were on leave last Friday. I thought he emailed you.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Karina tries to flash a smile, but it comes out more like a pained cringe as she watches you close your eyes, and then take a deep inhale. You’re deathly quiet, and it’s slightly terrifying. “I’ll be back,” you force out, and she turns, alarmed, as you stride out of the office.
“Where are you going?”
You don’t answer.
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Haechan gives it approximately five minutes before you reach his office. It takes three minutes for you to take the lift up, and it’s about twenty metres from the lobby to his personal office.
If you’re particularly enraged, however, your pace might be a little faster, so he accounts for that too.
“Three…two…” he counts down to himself, before the sharp knocks come.
“One.” The last word leaves his mouth with a note of finality, before you’re standing in front of him, eyes alight with indignation. It’s one of his favourite expressions on you. “Lee Haechan!” You shout, and he jumps a little at the loudness of your voice.
“You know, if you’re going to come in before I even allow it, you might as well not bother knocking,” he comments, turning his chair to face you.
“If you hadn’t taken my case, I wouldn’t even need to be here. Medical negligence isn’t even your specialty. Go back to whatever you’re doing in real estate.” You wave a cursory hand in the general direction of his desk to emphasise your point.
“But I think it’s interesting. And Mr Kim said he wants the lawyers at his firm to be versatile.” Haechan looks at you innocently as he says it, but the slight upward tug at the corner of his mouth betrays his real intentions.
If this was anyone else, you might have believed them. But Haechan never genuinely wants to help you, not unless he gets something out of it. Sometimes, he just wants to get on your nerves. It’s like some sort of twisted stress relief therapy for him, finding new ways to torment you.
“Look.” You run a hand through your hair, as if it’ll do something to calm your emotions. “Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone and we can live our perfectly happy lives. Doesn’t that sound good?”
For a second, he looks to be deep in thought, genuinely considering your suggestion. Until a smirk creeps up onto his face, and you mentally sink to your feet in dread.
“But that wouldn’t be any fun,” he says while gazing at you innocently, lips settling into a soft pout, and you feel a sharp tick of annoyance.
You’re going to kill him one day. You’re sure of it.
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“So, are you drunk and tired enough yet to tell us what your deal with Haechan is? I’m curious, and so is Ningning.” You narrow your eyes at the two girls sitting opposite you, identical stone-faced expressions resting on their faces. “Was that your entire scheme by dragging me out on a Saturday night?”
Karina grins. “Maybe.”
You look to Seulgi for support, but she only shrugs. “I kind of want to know too.”
“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” You ask, and Ningning shakes her head, pouring another shot of soju for you to down. You take it gratefully, relishing the cold burn as the alcohol makes its way into your system. Where do you start?
“I’ve known Lee Haechan since high school, if you have to know.” There’s a soft murmur of surprise from Karina at that piece of information, but you ignore it and continue.
“We’ve been competing over everything since we were teenagers. Think student council presidency, valedictorian, and best speaker at debate club sessions. When we got to university, it was the dean’s list and travel scholarships.”
Seulgi hums in thought. “And now that you’re both in the same company, it was the promotion to associate.” You nod. She’s quick to catch on, but you’re not finished.
“It wouldn’t be that bad if he was just a competitor. But of course, with my shitty luck, that man just so happens to be the devil’s incarnate,” you mutter venomously, and Ningning raises her hand. “But I think he’s got a good sense of humor.”
When no one responds, she coughs awkwardly. “Sorry.”
She’s not entirely wrong, of course. Haechan’s funny in the way an internet video is, when you see someone getting pranked and laugh at them for not figuring it out sooner. However, it’s a bit harder to find joy in it when you’re on the receiving end.
“Have you considered…being friends? Maybe he’s just trying to get closer to you,” Seulgi suggests, and you shake your head vehemently. Her statement is a bizarre one in itself. If Haechan wanted to make amends, there were hundreds of better, other ways that he could have gone about it, instead of making you want to tear your hair out at every turn.
“Not happening. We’re way past that now,” you decide, and she looks at you doubtfully, as if she wants to say something. Before she can open her mouth, however, Ningning sits up in alarm, temporarily sober as she looks directly at you.
“I overheard Mr Kim saying he was looking to promote one of our senior associates to a partner next year. But doesn’t that mean….”
You stiffen at her words, the grip on your cup growing impossibly tighter. There’s a mental list of the senior associates in your firm that you quickly run through, but they’re all eliminated for various reasons here and there, until you’re left with two options.
You grit your teeth.
“Oh dear,” Karina mutters as she looks at your expression, as if already aware of what’s about to happen. Seulgi instinctively reaches a hand out to comfort you, but you barely register it.
Compared to the trivialities of freshman year, this is vastly different. Being a partner at the firm means a stake in the company, a concrete role and title that will cement your position. It’s every associate’s dream, and something that you’ve wanted since you first walked through the shiny glass doors of your office building. You’ll be damned if Haechan takes it away from you now, when your dreams are so close in reach.
There’s nothing much you can do now, however, besides crossing your fingers and waiting. You’re not sure if anyone’s keeping a tally of the cases that you or Haechan have won so far, but if there is, it’s likely neck-and-neck. Still, you hope your clean record and stellar performance count for something, even if you lack the natural charisma that he’s brimming with.
If you’re lucky enough, Mr Kim might select you for the diversity representation, just to even out the gender statistics in the company’s annual report. It’s not a fair or honourable way to win, but it’s a win nonetheless.
“On the bright side, there’s only a week until our Christmas break. You won’t need to see Haechan in office at all for a month at least.”
Seulgi’s good at saying the right things in the right situations, and you feel a sigh of relief escape you at the thought of being free of his presence for a good amount of time.
Until you realise she’s dead wrong.
At your guttural groan, Ningning looks over in alarm. “Are you sick? You should have listened to me when I told you not to drink so much alcohol-” She’s cut off by Karina placing a gentle hand on her arm, and waiting for you to respond. “Y/N, is there something wrong?”
It’s a few too many moments before your head comes back up, hair dishevelled and expression pale. “Remember when I said Haechan and I went to the same high school?” It’s a rhetorical question. Of course they remember. You swallow thickly, gaze roaming over the three girls in front of you as they patiently wait for you to continue.
“I may have forgotten to mention that our parents have been best friends for the past two decades.”
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There was one clear memory of Haechan that you had from your childhood, and it involved crying. A lot of it. You had an irrational fear of sunflowers and subsequently bees, perhaps because there were always swarms of that exact insect around them.
It only took two days of Haechan finding out about this before he snuck sunflower seeds into your lunchbox, and told you that eating them would cause said flower to grow in you. Your teacher had found tears streaming down your cheeks once the bell rang, and Haechan ran off to tell everyone about how easily you had believed him, how gullible you seemed.
The relationship between the both of you never quite seemed to repair properly after that incident, even as your parents made hopeless attempts to make the two of you playmates.
You would have assumed that the animosity between both of you would mellow out once you turned older. After all, it was nothing but a foolish stunt pulled by a mischievous child.
Yet, the awkwardness devolved into competition and mutual dislike, especially when you realised that the both of you were constantly fighting for the same opportunities. And then he became wittier, always saying the right comments to make anger creep up the back of your neck.
Your parents might have saved a lot of effort if they knew the state of things between the both of you now.
“Well, isn’t someone looking cheerful today.” The familiar cadence of his voice grates at your ears. Haechan had been an avid member of the choir in his younger years, and you can still recall him winning district singing competitions. You would enjoy his voice more if it was disembodied and separate from the man himself.
“I rather walk than sit in your car,” you retort, but you know you’re lying through your teeth. Even then, he won’t abandon you, considering how his mother was very firm about the both of you showing up together and giving her regular updates. You wouldn’t put it beyond Mrs Lee to facetime the both of you at any time, just to check.
Haechan’s car is comfortable, and it seems to be the one thing he splurges on, besides his apartment in downtown Seoul. The leather seats are plush behind your back, and there’s a faint lavender smell that lingers inside. You’re not sure why you can recall those exact bits of information, considering you can’t remember the last time he drove you somewhere. Two years ago, he still had an old Toyota Camry, and the both of you would usually just take the train.
There were a few good things about the pandemic, and one of them was getting to work from home. The second was that you didn’t have these yearly trips back with Haechan, established as a tradition after the both of you relocated to Seoul for university.
Still, you’ll endure it, if it means getting home to spend Christmas with your family. The holiday has always evoked a sense of homesickness in you, and it’s likely due to the amount of effort your parents put into celebrating it. They weren’t religious, but they made sure there was always plenty of presents and hot chocolate.
It was fun, even if you were sent over every Christmas morning as an eight-year-old to wish the Lees a merry Christmas and endure Haechan’s teasing.
“I can’t believe you still listen to Michael Jackson.” The song that plays through the speakers is something you haven’t heard in years, but you’d recognize it anywhere.
“It’s good music. I’m not sure why you dislike him so much.”
“I would enjoy his music a lot more if you hadn’t blasted it at two in the morning during finals season,” you say bitterly, and Haechan lets out a low chuckle. The both of you are stuck in traffic, and the silence that settles in the car is painfully awkward. You and Haechan don’t have much to say to each other, besides sharp words, and you’re starting to regret it a little.
You can feel Haechan’s eyes on you when he turns his head, fingers drumming on the wheel. However, you refuse to afford him the pleasure of meeting his gaze, your eyes resolutely fixed on the car in front of you.
His throat bobs slightly, nervously. “Look, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and I rather it not be in silence. Let’s just pretend the company doesn’t exist. Truce?” He asks, and you try not to make the relief too obvious on your face. At your nod, Haechan breaks out into a brilliant smile, one that makes his features irk you less.
He should smile more instead of that smirk that he has all the time, you think. You would prefer it more.
“Now, what song do you want to queue? I’ll let you have music rights for the next three hours.”
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The house looks exactly as you remember. Even then, the colours are brighter, more saturated in your eyes, tinted with the unmistakable nostalgia of childhood. You step carefully onto the robin’s egg-blue porch, luggage behind you as you ring the doorbell.
It’s like both your and Haechan’s movements are in sync, likely looking identical from the back.
You had forgotten to mention to the three girls that the two of you happened to be next-door neighbours as well.
There’s the pitter-patter of footsteps against wood before the door flies open, and your mother is in front of you and hugging you tightly. She feels so much smaller than you, so different from the imposing figure of your childhood. There’s weathered lines across her face, but the brightness in her eyes is still identical to your memories.
You smile. “Hey, mom.”
“Look who’s here,” the low timbre of your father’s voice rings out before you see him, and your smile grows inexplicably wider. “How was the trip here? Haechan drove safely, didn’t he? I should buy something for them later. Gas is expensive these days, you know.”
“He was going to make the trip anyways. Besides, doesn’t it save more gas if we travel together?” You question, and your mother rolls her eyes. “I forgot about that mouth of yours. It’s only become worse since you’ve become a lawyer,” she sighs out, but her eyes are full of mirth.
Your luggage is deposited in your room by your father before you can even offer to help, and you realise that your family hasn’t made any effort to redecorate the empty space, instead leaving everything as it is. Some of your vinyls still sit on the shelf, along with photographs and trophies from different competitions. If you dig hard enough, you might be able to find your old clothes as well.
“Oh, Y/N, don’t unpack yet. Help me bring this over to the Lees,” she hands you a cooler bag, and you peer inside to find banchan neatly packed into tupperware and freshly-baked cookies. “Don’t you want to deliver these yourself?” you ask hopefully, but immediately sink back down when she shakes her head. “It’ll be good for Mr and Mrs Lee to see you. Now go.”
It’s a small consolation of sorts that Mrs Lee is the one opening the door when you knock, and Haechan is nowhere to be found.
“I feel like I say this every time I see you, but you’ve grown so much.” The warm smile on her face elicits one from you too, and you wonder why the apple fell so far from the tree. As you go past the hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re transported back to childhood. The house is as familiar to you as your own, even if most of your time here was spent bickering with him.
Once you reach the kitchen, you unpack the lunchboxes, tiptoeing to reach the fridge drawer. “I think these are good to be refrigerated for two weeks. Where should I put it?”
“Anywhere on the top shelf is fine. Do you want coffee?”
A latte isn’t usually your drink of choice, but you’re grateful for any caffeine hit after the long ride. Along the way, you had decided to take a nap, and Haechan had woken you up by blasting a song in your ear at full volume.
“Mom, did you see my winter coat- Oh, it’s you,” Haechan says when he steps into the kitchen, and you muster a polite smile on your face. Mrs Lee frowns slightly. “That’s no way to speak to our guest. And it’s on the uppermost shelf of your cabinet. Why don’t you walk Y/N out?”
“It’s fine, Mrs Lee, I live right opposite-”
“Sure,” Haechan cuts in nonchalantly, and you widen your eyes at him, a silent question. He deliberately ignores your heavy gaze and loops his arm in yours. “Well, come on. Let’s go.”
“Why are you looking for your winter coat? It’s not that cold yet,” you ask curiously, and Haechan halts in his steps, a puzzled expression on his face.
You’re shifting uncomfortably now, tense as Haechan continues staring at you. “What?”
Until the confusion on his face fades to a certain sort of mischief, and he leans down until his face is inches away from yours. You step back abruptly, putting some distance between the both of you, but the smug smile doesn’t leave Haechan’s face.
“Didn’t they tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“We’re going to a ski resort. You and me.”
There’s a light in Haechan’s eyes as he says it, one that seems to spell death and doom. You’re too stunned to speak, everything tuned out save for his face in front of yours.
At least now you know why your mother stopped you from unpacking your luggage.
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There’s something about the airport that makes you feel like you’re dreaming. It’s the hallways that seem to stretch on endlessly, and the way you lose track of time save for the numbers displayed in bright red on the large digital clock.
It’s one of your favourite places in the world. Planes, however, not so much. The dry air, cramped seats, loud noises, and the fact that you’re tens of thousands of feet above solid ground serve no purpose other than making you uneasy. Even though the improvement in Haechan’s and your salaries mean that your families can escape sitting in economy, you still can’t ignore the fact that the only thing saving you from falling to your death is a hunk of floating metal.
“Any drinks for you?” The air stewardess in front of you is bright-eyed, absent of the anxiety swirling in your stomach. “Just apple juice, please,” you mumble, setting the cup down in the holder in front of you. You probably won’t drink it anyways.
When takeoff begins, you try your best to ignore the rumbling of the plane, instead choosing to lean back and close your eyes. The sooner you fall asleep, the better.
Until the plane jerks violently, and your eyelids fling open. You can faintly hear the pilot apologising for the upcoming turbulence, but it barely registers, fading into background noise in favour of your thundering heartbeat. It seems sleep will be far out of reach today.
“Hey, you okay?”
You’re tempted to ignore Haechan, but he doesn’t sound teasing, instead genuinely concerned. You’re quite sure your face is twenty different shades of pale, but having him see you like this brings a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you force out, and wonder if you can request to change seats. 
It’s been a long time since you last got on a plane, and when you were young, you would be sandwiched between your parents. You’re wishing now that you had insisted on sitting with one of them, but it was obvious that this was some sort of double-date arrangement between your families, with you and Haechan as collateral.
You’re an adult, Y/N. Pull yourself together.
Your knuckles are bone-white from how hard you’re gripping the armrest, and Haechan, perceptive as ever, quickly figures out what’s wrong. “You’re scared of flying, aren’t you?”
You screw your eyes shut, exhaling shakily. “Shut up, Lee. I can’t do this right now.” He falls silent, and you think he might have temporarily retreated from teasing you for the moment.
The feeling of someone’s hand over yours quickly catches your attention, however, and you’re temporarily pulled away from your fear to look down, bewildered. “I used to have a younger cousin who was scared of flying.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation when he intertwines his fingers with yours.
You hate to admit it, but the warmth of his hands provides a welcome respite from your unease. When the plane jolts again, your grip tightens momentarily, and you expect Haechan to have some sort of teasing quip at how easily you jump. Contrary to your expectations, he simply smooths his thumb over your hand, a calming, repetitive motion that makes it easier for you to breathe.
Even when the seatbelt sign flickers off, Haechan doesn’t make any motion to move away. “Feeling better?” He asks, and you nod slowly. There’s a grin on his face at your response, one that is surprisingly genuine.
It takes a few seconds of Haechan staring at you before you cough awkwardly, immediately extricating your palm. It makes you feel slightly foolish, realising that he must have wanted you to let go of your own accord so he wouldn’t feel bad. He almost looks disappointed, but you’re convinced the fear has induced a hallucination of sorts.
You’re feeling fine now, or at least that’s what you think.
Until hours later, when the pilot announces descent, and your heart rate picks back up. Haechan doesn’t wait for you to ask this time, immediately slotting his fingers between yours.
“Thank you. You don’t have to do this,” you say thickly, strangely grateful for the man sitting next to you. Despite his endless teasing, he seems to know how to help at the right times. Maybe Ningning’s right, that he’s not all that bad. You suppose you’ve demonized the boy to an extent, driven by years of childish retorts.
In reality, you don’t hate him as much as you make it out to be. There’s just a feeling of walking on eggshells at his presence, a certain way that Haechan makes you feel off-kilter from never being able to predict what his next actions will be.
“You know, if you just wanted to hold my hand, you could have said so.” Haechan’s words make your cheeks burn, and you whip your head to the side to stare the boy down.
“I take it back. You’re the most infuriating person I know.” His forehead wrinkles slightly at that, and you realise he had not been privy to your previous thoughts. “Take what back?” He asks, and you ignore him. The apple juice is conveniently placed in front of you, and you gulp heavily from it. Anything to avoid telling Haechan what exactly you were thinking.
He moves closer, and you choke slightly at his proximity. At this distance, you can see your wide-eyed expression reflected clearly in his eyes. He scrunches his eyebrows in thought, and you can’t help but think he looks almost…adorable. Until you give yourself a violent kick mentally.
“You said that you wanted to take it back…you don’t think I’m infuriating?” There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that makes your heart stumble at an unfamiliar pace. “Perhaps….even endearing?” He muses, unable to hide his smirk now. You’re lost for words, cheeks painted scarlet as you stare at the boy.
The buzzing of the overhead intercom jolts you out of whatever trance Haechan has put you in, the clicking of seatbelts filtering into your ears. You shove him away lightly, enough to put much-needed distance between the both of you but not enough to wound him. A breath escapes Haechan as he falls back into his seat ungracefully, but his eyes remain fixed on your figure as you hurriedly get up to take your overhead bag.
Until you tiptoe, fingers scrabbling at empty space, and decide that whatever higher powers up there must really have it out for you. The familiar black duffel bag is just out of reach, likely having shifted backwards during the course of the flight. You’re prepared to admit defeat and ask your father to help, when there’s the feeling of someone’s back against yours, warm and solid. You jerk your head around in alarm, only to see Haechan easily grabbing the bag and holding it in front of you.
He’s too close. Much too close for comfort.
“What are you doing?” you demand, but it comes out more as a high-pitched stutter, betraying your nerves. “You seemed to need some help. You know, I didn’t realise how short you were without your heels,” he comments, and you’re left unable to reply, too distracted by the way he’s still pressed close to you. It suddenly feels difficult to get enough oxygen, and your heart is going a mile a minute. There’s an exhale of relief that escapes when he finally moves away to make way for another passenger.
You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you even as you stride quickly down the aisle to join your parents, and a flush creeps at the back of your neck.
This holiday is going to drive you mad.
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“So, how’s the trip going? With Y/N, no less,” Renjun asks, unable to hide his grin. Haechan hums in thought, settling on a pillow as he decides on a response. “Not bad. We’re making progress.”
“Progress as in…she’s less interested in homicide and more towards assault?” Haechan genuinely considers it for a second, before he nods in assent. The look on Renjun’s face is a mixture of frustration and bewilderment.
“Lee Haechan, you’re hopeless.” He sits up indignantly at that statement, glaring at Renjun even through the grainy screen. “Honestly, I’ll be surprised if Y/N even reciprocates your feelings. For a successful attorney, you sure are an idiot.”
The lack of faith is disappointing to Haechan, but no matter. Getting you to like him back has been at the top of his wishlist since junior year, and he’s not about to give up now.
The memory of you walking into the club room with your school blouse neatly tucked in and hair tied back still remains fresh in Haechan’s mind. You had been a model student, but not in a way that felt too overbearing. Maybe sometimes you would frown at his bright Converse shoes, or loose tie. But they technically weren’t against school rules, so Haechan continued to tiptoe the fine line between dress code and responsibility as vice-president of Student Council.
Originally, the boy was happy enough to be the chairperson of the debate club, until Jaemin, his labmate, had very cleverly pointed out that the both of you would get to head the annual prom together.
And so he decided to campaign, effectively providing one of the most stressful experiences of your high school years.
Those were some of the best memories of his final year, sitting in the classroom with you and ironing out details for hours. It was obviously something that you were passionate about, giving up so many sleepless nights just to research the exact decorations.
It was one of the things he liked most about you, that spark in your gaze when you saw something you liked, or fixed your mind on something. On occasion, it would appear when he teased you, though it was often accompanied by anger. Still, he craved it. Haechan liked having your eyes on him, even if they were narrowed with exasperation.
And when finals had ended, the invisible heavy burden on your shoulders had seemed to lift, and you laughed easier, smiled more. Even when he pestered you, there would only be an indulgent smile on your face. Prom was barely a week away, and he thought that would be it. That he would ask you to be his date, and maybe, finally you’d see him in a new light, beyond the boy who always seemed to be competing with you.
And then you disappeared from school without any information whatsoever, right up until the day itself. He had even asked Ryujin, the secretary of student council. Everyone was clueless.
The next time Haechan saw you was in the university lecture hall, and his shoulders had sunk in relief at the sight of your face.
Now, seven years later, Haechan was still playing a game of catch-and-toss for your heart, but he didn’t mind.
The boy had been feigning an expression of nonchalance when he offered his hand to you in the plane, but when you didn’t pull away, Haechan was quite convinced that his heart was going to leap out of his chest.
He’s not sure if you’ll let him hold your hand again, but a man can dream. The doorbell rings then, jolting Haechan out of his thoughts. “Give me a second, Jun,” he mutters as he sets the phone down, slippers thudding softly against the carpeted floor.
When he flings the door open, the last person he’s expecting to see is the one that’s been taking up his thoughts.
You’re swamped in an oversize hoodie and leggings, hair dishevelled and reading glasses balanced on the tip of your nose. It’s obvious you’ve woken up recently, and he steals a glance at the clock before focusing back on you.
You look different. But a good different.
“Weren’t you going down with them to the village?” He asks, and you smile sheepishly. “Overslept.”
The ski resort the both of you were in was located high up in the mountains, and there was a shuttle bus going down to the winter village twice a day. Your parents had suggested going down for dinner, but Haechan had work to clear up and decided to stay back.
It seems fate has a funny way of leaving the two of you together, Haechan thinks as he looks at you, still slightly drowsy. “Wanna go get dinner?” There’s an involuntary grumble of your stomach at his words, and Haechan chuckles slightly. He presses the end call button without a second thought, before grabbing his leather jacket.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He tries to hold back his smile when he feels your footsteps behind his.
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The first thing you realise is that the restaurant is full of couples. You’ve only seen one family so far, the rest of the patrons seating in tables of two. You chalk it down to pure coincidence, even as the waiter hands you a menu that’s awfully thin.
“I’m Jisung, and I’ll be your server for today. Our menu is a four-course set with seasonal ingredients designed for couples. Let me know whenever you’re ready to order.” The boy standing in front of your table looks awfully young to be working at a fine-dining establishment, but his voice is level as he arranges the silverware.
You suck in a nervous breath when you notice that the price isn’t even printed on the menu. It means that it’s expensive, and you’re not sure you want to know how much. You’re not one to splurge unnecessarily. “The food better be good,” you mumble, not noticing the way Haechan smiles softly at your comment.
“I’ll cover the bill,” he suggests, and at the resistance in your eyes, Haechan waves a dismissing hand. “I picked it anyways.” You don’t protest further.
Despite the steep price, you can’t help but admire the high ceilings of the restaurant, black marble walls offset by tasteful streaks of gold.
“Y/N.” At the mention of your name, your attention is pulled back to the man sitting opposite you. In the warm glow of the candlelight, his features are rounder, more delicate, and his hair somehow darker. It leaves you breathless, and you’re not sure if it’s the atmosphere around you, or the way that you’ve been feeling stranger and stranger around Haechan lately. Your eyes flit momentarily to the rings adorning his fingers, the ones that you’re used to seeing every day.
If there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with Haechan might just be the opposite. Having to interact in close proximity daily for the past two weeks has made him more tolerable somehow, an acquaintance rather than a nemesis. He seems to have lightened up on the taunts as well, instead replacing them with sarcastic quips that aren’t directed at you and that elicit a laugh more often than not.
It reminds you of senior year, when the both of you had been working so closely for the student council. Haechan had been your partner and your equal then, his competition more of a motivation than a threat. But university had been a rat race with thousands of other brilliant minds that sought to outdo and outlearn, so individualistic that the both of you never did quite talk about the almost-friendship that had formed.
“I assume you know about Mr Kim’s intentions to promote one of us to partner next year,” you start, unsure of what else to say. It’s been something that presses at the back of your mind, even as you go for hot chocolate runs with Haechan and sit in the lounge room together to clear last-minute emails. “I hope you know that I’m not intending to give up.”
Haechan smiles. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”
“But…” you trail off slightly, and he leans forward, eyes curious. You decide just to bite the bullet, not leaving any room to reconsider.
“I think you’re good at what you do. And I think it would be easier for us to work together in the future if we weren’t constantly at each other’s necks.” Your voice gradually gets softer as you continue, but Haechan hears every word. He notices you worrying your lip and the faint set of your eyebrows, and realises that you’re nervous. It’s no secret that he finds certain habits of yours endearing, but this expression on you might be one of his favourites.
“Well, height-wise, you’re still at my neck.”
“You-”
“Kidding. So we’re friends now?” He has to bite back a laugh at your glare. You’re still so easy to rile up. “We can be anything you want to be,” you say nonchalantly.
Haechan knows that you don’t mean that literally, but he thinks about the possibilities anyways.
He wants to say more when Jisung appears, a bottle of red wine grasped in his hands. You look up from your bowl, confused. “Oh, we didn’t order red wine.”
At your protest, however, the boy smiles. “It’s on the house. Are the both of you celebrating anything? An anniversary or a birthday perhaps,” he suggests, and you shake your head. “We’re not…we’re not a couple.” You’re unsure why you stumble over your words, but Haechan seems to find it amusing from the way he’s coughing politely into his napkin.
Jisung blinks awkwardly, and you blink back. “Apologies for assuming. Enjoy your dinner,” he replies after a moment too long, rushing off after filling both of your glasses.
“I think we scared him off,” you say guiltily, and Haechan snickers. “He’ll be fine. To be fair, this is a dinner set for couples.”
“But we look nothing like a couple,” you interject, and there’s a flash of doubt that crosses Haechan’s face, before he quickly schools it into nothing. He takes a large gulp of the wine, before grinning at you.
“Of course. I’m too good-looking.”
It’s a blatant lie, of course. Haechan thinks you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, even when you had your thick-rimmed glasses in second grade and the most obnoxious blue braces. He’ll never have the courage to admit that, however, and Haechan’s starting to fear that his feelings are going to go unspoken forever.
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This time, you manage to not oversleep.
The alarm goes off two hours before dinner, reminding you that it’s time to get ready. Your presents are already prepared at the corner of the bed and neatly wrapped, even though you know that your parents aren’t the kind to require excessive formality, and neither are Mr and Mrs Lee. You’re not sure about Haechan, if he’s remembered to prepare gifts. When you asked him at breakfast, he had evaded the question, which meant that he either had something prepared or was too embarrassed to admit that he had forgotten.
You’ve been waiting to wear this dress for a long time, a blush pink satin that’s pretty but comfortable enough for you to move around in. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the luxury of taking your time to get ready, considering you’re always cutting it close to sneak in extra sleep before work.
Despite your early preparations, however, the clock seems to tick much too fast. You’re tugging on your heels when there’s a sharp knock at the door. “Coming!” you shout, giving yourself one last look in the mirror before you pull the handle open.
“Oh, wow. You look…nice,” you say absentmindedly, only realising the words are too far gone to take back when a glimmer of satisfaction shows up on Haechan’s face. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him wearing a suit- attorneys practically live in a blazer and slacks, after all- but this one is all-black, the top two buttons of his blouse unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones. It makes his features even sharper, fabric contrasted against his warm, honey-toned skin.
You try not to think about how it’s the same exact material as your dress, and that people- namely your parents, would have assumed the both of you planned it beforehand.
Haechan’s appraising gaze makes warmth creep up your neck, and you shift from foot to foot, waiting for him to say something. Anything. “You clean up pretty well too. Ready for dinner?”
The both of you are friends, Y/N. Friends can compliment each other, you assure yourself, even as your pulse flutters uncontrollably at his words. He offers an arm out to you like a perfect gentleman, and you exhale shakily through your nose.
This dinner may be more difficult that you expect.
The both of you are guided to your table by a different waiter this time, Jisung nowhere in sight. Thankfully, there’s a much wider menu to choose from now, and your parents are splitting, offering a respite to Haechan’s wallet.
“Oh, I wanted to pass you your present first,” you say, retrieving the gift and placing it in front of Haechan. There’s excitement bubbling in your chest as you watch him arch an eyebrow curiously. “Open it,” you encourage, and he lifts up the cover, a surprised laugh escaping him.
“Where did you get this?” He asks, and you crinkle your forehead slightly. “I ordered it online, and I was scared it wouldn’t get delivered in time because of the snowstorm. Take it as a present from one vinyl collector to another.” Haechan breaks out into a brilliant grin at your words, one that illuminates his entire face. The corners of his mouth quirk up, however, when he places a velvet box on the table.
“You actually remembered to get a present? From your reaction at breakfast today, I thought…”
“You think too lowly of me,” he complains, poking his tongue into his cheek. Your eyes are bright, however, as you take the box from him, only realising that it’s velvet once you smooth your fingers over it. “This isn’t something scary, is it?” You question doubtfully, and he shrugs.
“You gave me fake insects half a decade ago, so forgive me if I’m not entirely trusting-” you fall silent when the box clicks open, revealing a pearl choker that you immediately recognize.
“Haechan, this-”
He barely reacts to your wide-mouthed shock. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” The wish is sincere, and the way he says it makes your heart stretch just a little wider.
You can’t believe he remembers.
For prom, you had suggested a vintage 1980s theme, and Haechan had seen the Vivienne Westwood necklace sitting in your online cart along with the decorations. You never did purchase it because of the hefty price tag, and it was gradually forgotten.
Seeing the three rows of pearls in front of you now, however, brings on a wave of nostalgia.
“You should try it on. It matches nicely with your dress.” he offers, and you pick up the necklace from where it’s resting, hands shaking slightly as you close the clasp around your neck. “How does it look?” you ask, swallowing nervously as you focus back on Haechan, who has an unreadable expression on his face.
“Beautiful,” he mutters softly, but his eyes don’t dart down to your neck at all. You want to think that he’s lying. However, the way his eyes remain transfixed on your face as he says it has your pulse fluttering wildly.
There’s a lump in your throat as you fiddle with the necklace, feeling the cold of the pearls against your skin.
“I wanted to give it to you on the night of prom,” Haechan says then, a silent question in his eyes. The implication behind his words is heavy, considering that all you remember having with Haechan in senior year was a rivalry-turned-tentative-friendship by necessity.
Instead of the anger you expect it to provoke, the idea of him being the one fills you with a  certain nerve-wracking thrill, like the kind you get just before a rollercoaster drops.
“I wanted to go, you know. But something happened with my family, and I-”
“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re still here now, aren’t we?”
His question isn’t one that you need to reply to, because you know the answer.
Haechan is one of the people you know best in this world, besides your family. He thinks you’re a little too uptight sometimes, but you find him too aloof. That you’re not particularly extroverted, preferring to stick to a close circle of friends, while Haechan can talk to almost anyone and everyone. Until you forced yourself to make it to parties and meetings in order to beat him out in garnering votes from the student body. And then gradually, it became easier.
He’s always pushed you out of your comfort zone effortlessly, and you hate to admit it, but you wouldn’t have done this much if he hadn’t been right in step behind you.
In the end, the both of you boiled down to one similarity- pure ambition, the kind that pushed you to endure long hours and sleepless nights in order to get what you wanted.
Currently, the both of you are teetering on the edge of an invisible precipice, steps away from tumbling into wildly unfamiliar territory. And what terrifies you the most is that you don’t particularly seem to mind the idea of falling. Haechan has always been able to provoke reactions so easily from you, split-second impulsivities that make you lose control of your emotions.
You and him are not polar opposites, as much as you would like to think. Haechan just covers his with a veneer of casual confidence, while you would rather not be in the spotlight unless necessary.
“Haechan, if-” you start, and the look in his eyes when he hears you speak is so hopeful, so full of anticipation that it causes you to stop abruptly. He’s beautiful, you think. The slant of his cheekbones, the angle of his jaw- it’s no secret that Haechan is attractive by most conventional standards, but it’s the first time he’s rendering you speechless. You’ve never really been able to truly look at him, too focused on the imminent threat that his presence seemed to signify.
And now that it’s gone, you’re genuinely seeing Haechan for what he is. Your equal, and someone you’re hopelessly attracted to, for good reason.
Until the jolt of a chair yanks you out of whatever trance-like state you’re in, and you whip your head around to see Haechan’s father, along with the rest of your families.
“Sorry for the wait. What were you young people talking about?” He asks, and your mind blanks for a second.
How are you supposed to tell him that you think you might have feelings for his son, after fighting tooth-and-nail with him all these years?
You make eye contact with Haechan then, and there’s a silent promise in his gaze. The both of you will talk about whatever it is between you eventually. For now, you’re here to celebrate with the people you love most in the world.
Lee Haechan included, you suppose.
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Hangovers are not a good look on Haechan.
At least, that’s his first thought when he wakes up, head heavy and throat dry. But he’s an adult now, and that means taking responsibility for his not-so-sober decisions.
By the time he takes a cold shower and brushes his teeth, it feels like some semblance of life has returned to him, and he uses the thought of breakfast as motivation to get dressed and head down. It’s a petty sort of consolation that everyone else will probably be feeling worse than him, you included.
He makes a direct beeline for the hot food, piling a plate with bacon and eggs. And then he reaches the drink section, pausing for a second. “What did she say she liked again?” he mutters, staring at the juices with two cups in hand.
When he reaches the table, there are soft ‘good mornings’ from everyone, and Haechan takes the seat opposite yours, smiling brightly. “Here. I wasn’t sure which one you might want, so I got both,” he says, setting the drinks down in front of you. One’s a cappuccino, and the other cranberry juice.
You blink tiredly, looking up at him in mild surprise. “Thank you,” you mumble softly, before returning to your food.
He frowns. Haechan’s seen you hungover before, and it’s usually not like this. And he’s quite sure you didn’t drink as much as him, considering you weren’t the hugest fan of alcohol. It would be wiser for Haechan to leave you alone to rest- after all, you did say thank you, so surely nothing’s wrong.
However, he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t get to the bottom of things.
“Are you feeling unwell? There’s hangover medicine in my luggage, I can pass you some-”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“How about ramen? We can make some later,” he prompts, watching your expression carefully. You shake your head, and Haechan tries not to look too shocked.
“But it’s ramen,” he continues, expectation evident in his gaze. Haechan knows you. You would never turn down an offer of your favourite food.
“I’ll pass this time,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. He falls silent, watching as you pick at the rest of your food.
When you stand up, the sound of the chair scraping seems a little bit too sharp. “I’ll head back first. I forgot about something,” you explain, turning on your heel. Haechan’s eyes dart to the untouched drinks, before they meet your mother’s gaze. He wipes the corner of his mouth hastily with the napkin, before rising as well. “I’ll go find Y/N,” he declares.
Thankfully, the hotel isn’t too crowded at this time, and he spots you just in time. When Haechan skids to a stop in front of you, your hands are around your jacket, pulling it tight around you.
“Hey,” he greets, breathless. You look taken aback, and Haechan runs a hand through his hair, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Are you…I might just be stupid, but are you okay? You seemed a little off at breakfast,” he points out, watching as the emotions on your face change from shock to doubt to…hurt?
“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” You ask, a tremor in your voice as you peer at the boy.
Haechan frantically scans through his memories, heart dropping when it comes up empty. He was talking to his father about football, and then your mother brought up memories from when the both of you were in elementary, causing everyone at the table to laugh.
Anything that happened after the fourth cocktail was a blur.
He pulls himself out of his thoughts to focus on you, shaking his head. Haechan’s eyes are wide as he stares at you. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he mutters, watching as you nibble on your lip nervously, before sighing. “Come with me,” you instruct, before grabbing Haechan’s wrist and dragging him to a quieter part of the lobby.
You’re standing in front of him, fiddling with your fingers, and Haechan can tell you’re thinking of what to say. “If I did something stupid, you can tell me,” he assures, and the glance you give him is disbelieving. However, the dark clouds in your expression have cleared a little.
“No, it wasn’t stupid, I just have no idea if it was some sort of joke or if you meant it-” you trail off, looking distraught. Haechan becomes alert at the mention of that, his heartbeat picking up slightly. “Y/N, what did I say?”
You’re never one to beat about the bush, and the way you keep hesitating has him nervous.
“You said you liked me,” you finally answer, and Haechan’s world stops.
The memories flood back into his brain a few moments too late. Your parents choosing to rest early, Haechan saying he wanted to stay on a little more-
Oh God.
“It’s three am, Donghyuck. You’re going to wake everyone up,” you scolded, but there was a grin on your face. He had been singing some ridiculous rendition of a carol at top volume, causing you to look away, embarrassed. The staff working the graveyard shift had barely even batted an eye at his antics.
“Huh. You’ve never called me Donghyuck before,” Haechan noticed, blinking slowly. The alcohol was really getting to his brain now, making it foggy. It’s nice, having you call him a name that’s solely reserved for close friends and family. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” you say, looking caught.
“Of course you can. We’re close.” Haechan tries not to coo when he sees your cheeks warm slightly, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze, instead focusing on getting to the correct hotel room.
Just as you pull out the keycard, you feel someone come up right next to you, and you look up in alarm. “Is something wrong?” Haechan shakes his head, leaning down towards you. He’s not sure whether you’re one for physical affection, but he can’t help himself when he pinches your cheeks gently.
“Hae- Donghyuck, what are you doing?” You’re confused at his sudden movements, but you don’t pull away, even as he comes closer. Haechan blinks slowly, your face swimming in and out of his vision.
“You’re adorable, you know that? Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. But you’re also mean to me sometimes,” Haechan whines out, and you’re equal parts flustered and amused by him. “You- you really need to get to bed,” you say once you’ve collected your thoughts, pushing him in the direction of his room.
He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, but there are words fighting to escape, and Haechan rather not think about the consequences when he has you in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. You look pretty like this, and you’ve never let him get this close to you before.
It makes him brave.
Which is why he presses his feet into the carpet to prevent himself from moving, turning around sharply to face you again. He’s determined now, looking at you with a certain sharpness in his eyes that makes your pulse unsteady.
“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I’ve liked you for eight years, and I thought you would figure it out by now, or at least look my way, but-” he hiccups slightly, “you haven’t. Is it because I’m annoying?”
Haechan doesn’t remember what your answer was to that question because he might have fallen asleep on his feet then, and quite frankly, he’s terrified to find out.
“Oh.”
The statement makes it obvious that he remembers everything now, and your eyes widen in incredulity. “Is that all you have to say?” you ask, and Haechan feels like he’s at a crossroads.
Renjun would definitely laugh at him for this.
But Renjun would also tell him to be honest, considering the secret is already out. It’ll be awkward no matter what he does.
Haechan might as well give it a shot. He was too scared in senior year, but he’s less fearful now.
“I wasn’t joking,” he starts, swallowing nervously before looking at you.
“I liked you in junior year, so much that I joined the student council for you. And since then, I’ve just been waiting, and waiting, but I’m not sure how much longer I can go-”
Haechan gets cut off when the collar of his hoodie is jerked forward, allowing him to finally meet your height. There’s a look of exasperation on your face, and Haechan’s not entirely sure what that means in the context of him confessing his feelings. Maybe you’ve decided you’ve had enough of him, and you’re going to leave his dead body to be found once the snow melts.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
There’s relief that fills him at the lack of murderous intent in your voice, but he doesn't get a chance to respond before you’re tiptoeing and closing the distance between the both of you.
It takes Haechan a few moments too long to register that you’re kissing him before he reciprocates in equal measure. He feels like his heart might burst from the way you’re holding onto him, as if the both of you are the only ones existing at this moment.
When you finally let go of his hoodie, the plain disappointment on Haechan’s face causes you to let out a giggle.
He shakes his head slightly in an attempt to clear it, before looking at you. “Can we do that again?” His question earns him a swat on the back, but you don’t resist when Haechan loops his arms around your waist.
It’s only his second time kissing you, but Haechan’s quite sure there aren’t many feelings that can compare to this.
He might just get hooked on it.
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“I can’t believe the holiday’s over,” you sigh, sinking into the armchair. Your luggage is next to you, Haechan looking down with a bemused expression on his face. “Doesn’t this happen every year? Just wait another three hundred and sixty-five days.”
From where you’re seated, you’re not able to reach Haechan’s waist, so you settle for hitting him on the thigh. He looks at you indignantly, but whatever retort he has dies on his tongue when your father calls for the both of you to get into the car.
It’s only when the both of you are comfortably seated at the very back, that Haechan leans over, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You’re not going to get scared on the plane again, are you?” He asks, and you narrow your eyes.
As much as he jokes about it, Haechan was also the one who offered his hand to you on the flight here. “Whatever,” you mutter. “Just hold my hand now.”
You don’t give Haechan time to interject before you intertwine his fingers with yours, missing the way a blush settles at the back of his neck. He forgets that you’re occasionally imbued with bursts of confidence, allowing you to act in ways that have his heart thundering in his chest.
When he finally looks over again, you’re leaning against the side, appreciating the scenery that drifts by. A smile makes its way onto his face subconsciously, and Haechan’s grip on your hand grows imperceptibly tighter.
You’re the best Christmas present he could have asked for.
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theemporium · 1 year ago
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[3.3k] after a conversation with steve leaves him haunted with ideas, eddie takes it upon himself to create the perfect circumstances to live out his car sex fantasy. (smut)
based off this request
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In all fairness, the date wasn’t technically based on a lie. 
Between class assignments, after-school jobs and Eddie working on the latest campaign before he officially handed the club off to the younger boys, there hadn’t been much time for you two to just spend it…together. 
Sure, there were the odd nights you’d head over to the trailer park or he would head over to your house, but neither of you ever stayed up late enough to enjoy the time together. Nine out of ten times, you’d both be so caught up with your own things that the first time you really got a moment alone from everything would be the minutes before you passed out in bed. 
So, the idea of a random, impromptu date at the drive-in movie theatre just outside of town seemed like the perfect night you both needed after weeks of nothing. A sweet, innocent night shared together watching some trashy old movie with snacks and drinks you picked up from the 7/11 on the way—and totally nothing to do with the fantasy that had been playing over and over in his head for the last few weeks. 
Honestly, it had been Steve’s fault. 
He had been hanging around Family Video a couple of weeks ago when the topic was brought up. Just a simple back and forth of the best and worst places to have sex whilst Steve sorted through the x-rated videos the store had to offer. They had been debating on whether shower sex was really worth the risk or not when Steve brought it up. 
“Okay but nothing beats the back of a car,” he had commented casually, not seeming to notice the way Eddie perked up in interest. 
“Huh?”
“Like, when you’re fooling around with a girl and then she climbs into the back with that look on her face? It’s hot,” Steve said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s hot in the front seat too, but it’s a little cramped up there.” 
Eddie didn’t say anything in response because, truly, he couldn’t. He couldn’t put his two cents into the conversation, he couldn’t add in any opinions because it was never something he ever experienced. 
There had been a few hookups in the back of the van, but that was different. The back of the van was spacious and he often had pillows and blankets down to make it a little nicer. The last time he drove a car was back when Wayne was teaching him, and even then, it only took a few weeks before he got his licence. And he didn’t drive anything again until he saved up for the van, did a little work on her and had her as his very own ever since. 
Yet, there was a small part of Eddie that couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out. As Steve continued to ramble on, that pit in his stomach grew and grew into something quite like envy. 
He wanted that. He wanted the silly giggles and breathless moans when he fucked some girl in the backseat of a car. He wanted the heated windows, the bodies pressed together and the clothes abandoned on the car floor. He wanted that. 
He wanted that with you, with his pretty girl.
But he never said that to Steve. He never said that to you either. He didn’t say a damn word to anyone, and instead he formulated a plan in his head to get the fantasy he wanted. It was almost embarrassing how easily it worked. 
He waited a couple of weeks until the conversation between Steve and himself was long forgotten. He waited until it felt like a random day when he suddenly called Steve, frantic and desperate and seemingly in need of some serious help from a friend. 
“Woah, breathe! What’s wrong?” 
“It’s my van,” Eddie said as he tried to sound beat down and glum about the whole thing. “I planned the perfect date, Harrington! We’ve barely been able to each other with her college classes and my shifts at the garage, and now my stupid van won’t be ready in time for the drive in I wanted to take her to. She had been raving about it to her friends.” 
“Oh shit. When is the date?”
Eddie tried to bite back his grin. “Tomorrow night.”
“Just take my car!”
“Really?” 
“Yeah, I won’t need it tomorrow night anyways. I’ll be at Robin’s.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Harrington,” Eddie breathed out a sigh of relief, a wide smile spread across his face. “I’ll promise to get it back to you in one piece.”
And possibly dry cleaned too, Eddie added as an afterthought.
With a car secure in his possession, the rest of the plan ran as smoothly as he hoped. He drove to your house, kissing away any questions you had about the car with some muttered lies about a dodgy engine problem in his van passed between before he headed towards the drive-in. 
He could barely keep his eyes off you the whole drive, but it was almost like you knew the dirty, little fantasy playing in his head. You were wearing a pretty number he swore he had never seen before, some floral dress that rests just above your knees. The straps were thinner than Eddie imagined was practically possible, and the second you shed the small cardigan off in the car, he was a fucking goner. 
He was straining in his jeans by the time you pulled into the drive-in, jammed between two massive pick-up trucks and, god, Eddie had never been more grateful and convinced that a superior being existed. 
Eddie tried to take it slow. He tried to let the moment come naturally. He watched as you pushed your seat all the way back, allowed himself to do the same and he tried to focus on the movie. He really, really tried. But then you had kicked your feet up on the dashboard, your skirt had ridden up just enough for him to see the pair of cotton panties you were wearing and his brain went totally blank.
“You’re staring, pretty boy.” 
He blinked, taking a few seconds to realise you had actually said something to him. “What?” 
It felt like someone caved his chest in when you smiled at him. “I said, you’re staring,” you repeated, looking far too amused at the clueless expression on his face. “You haven’t even looked at the screen in the last fifteen minutes.”
“Must be a pretty boring movie then,” he answered with a shrug. 
You raised your brows. “So you’re watching me instead?” 
“You’re pretty damn spectacular, babe,” he replied. 
“Me or my legs?” You teased. 
“Both,” he answered shamelessly, and you couldn’t help but let out a snort. 
“Watch the movie, Eds,” you told him, shaking your head as you turned to look out the front window towards the screen again. However, your attention quickly shifted back to the boy in the driver seat when his hand landed just above your knee. “Can I help you?” 
“It’s a boring movie, babe,” he said, his fingers gliding along your skin and it took everything in you to not shiver at the feather-light touches. “A waste of time, if I’m being honest. We could always get Steve to slip it to us for free for a couple of hours.”
“Hm,” you hummed, trying to act nonchalant as you focused your gaze on his face and not the way his pretty fingers looked dancing across your skin. “And what do you propose we do instead then? The movie is two hours long. You gonna entertain me, Munson?”
His lips twitched upwards. “I have some ideas on how to keep you preoccupied, baby.”
“Like staring at me?”
“Like fucking you dumb in the backseat.”
You stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock at the blunt words that just left your boyfriend’s lips, and you waited. You waited for him to crack some joke. You waited for him to grin and wave it off, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at you like he was a starved man, like he wanted to fucking ravish you—and honestly, you wanted it too.
“Eddie,” you murmured, shifting in your seat as he squeezed your thigh. “We can’t.”
He raised his brows. “Why not?”
“We are surrounded by people,” you muttered, your cheeks feeling warm and heated as you glanced around at all the cars parked in the drive-in. You were completely surrounded. There was no way somebody wouldn’t catch you. 
“Scared?” He teased with a grin that felt a little sadistic.
“Eddie.”
“Just a lil’ good girl, aren’t you? Not wanting to get caught…not wanting anyone to see how need you get for me,” Eddie mused, something in his eyes darkening as he continued to trace his fingers along your thigh. 
Your breath hitched as he reached the hem of your skirt. “Eddie—”
“It’s a shame I don’t believe you, honey,” he murmured as his eyes snapped back up towards you, as he watched your face carefully as his fingers slid underneath your dress and lightly grazed your clothed cunt. “Not when you’re this fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you.” 
“I–” You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t. Not when his thumb pressed down on your clit. 
“You can act like a good girl all you want but I know the truth, baby,” he hummed as he watched your hand dart down to grip his wrist—but not to push him away. No, you were keeping his hand locked in place like you were scared he was going to move away. “You fucking love the idea. You fucking love the idea that anyone could see what a desperate little slut you become for my cock, hm?”
“Please,” you breathed out, your head falling back against the seat as your legs opened slightly wider. 
Eddie didn’t even bother to hide his grin as he pulled his hand back, listening to the way you whined at the loss. “Take them off.” 
You blinked, your heart beating wildly in your chest. “What—”
“Off. Now.” 
You didn’t waste any time as your thumbs hooked on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and barely making it past your ankles before Eddie balled the fabric up and shoved it into his pocket. You didn’t even get a chance to comment on how quick he was before the boy was pushing your legs open once again, the fabric of your dress pooled at your hips and your pussy on display for him. 
“Fucking gorgeous,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, before he lifted his hand to slowly trace his fingers over your soaked cunt. You shivered at the soft touches, your thighs instinctively moving to clench shut but he pushed them open again. “Nuh uh, honey, not letting you hide from me.”
“Eddie,” you whined, a little too desperate when he had barely touched you but you didn’t care. “Please. Fuck, please.”
“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, his tone almost tipping over that line of condescending. But honestly, it just made the coil in your stomach tighten. You liked it when he was a little mean. You liked it when he knew just what you wanted. “Gonna make my girl feel good. Promise.”
One hand gripped the fabric of your dress, letting it bunch in your first as your other hand pressed against the window. You tried to keep quiet. You tried to remind yourself that cars were far from soundproof. You tried to remind yourself that you were surrounded by other movie-watchers. You tried to remind yourself that anybody could look over and see you. 
But it was really hard to care about anything other than Eddie burying two fingers inside you, pumping and curling his fingers in a way that had you arching off your seat. 
And Eddie couldn’t help but watch, completely enthralled. 
He didn’t give two shits about the movie when he had you. The way you squirmed and wiggled in the passenger seat, your nails digging into the fabric of the seat and scratching along the car door as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you. The way you clenched around him, incoherent babbles and needy noises leaving your mouth as you reached closer and closer to your edge. The way you looked so fucking pretty with flushed cheeks and glossy eyes and he had barely fucking touched you. 
This was a movie he could never get sick off. This was a movie he could never look away from even if he tried. 
And fuck, the way you were far too loud when you came. The way he was so fucking sure that either patrons in the trucks beside you could have heard you, could have looked over and seen you coming around his fingers as you cried out his name. The way Eddie felt something quite like pride burst in his chest at the idea. 
“Atta girl,” he cooed, his thumb brushing over your sensitive clit as your body convulsed at the burst of pleasure. “Told you I know what my pretty girl wants.” 
“Eds,” you mumbled, somewhere lost between pleasure and desire as you watched him slide his fingers out of you. As you watched him bring his fingers to his lips, shamelessly sucking off the mess you made and groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. As you watched his eyes roll back as he savoured the moment. 
And before you could even let yourself catch your breath, his hand slapping the inside of your thigh as he flashed you a smirk. 
“Get that pretty ass in the backseat, baby.” 
There was something about the way you didn’t even hesitate as you clambered into the backseat of the car, even with shaky legs and panting breaths as you tried to recover from your previous orgasm. There was something about the sight of your dress pulled up over your ass, giving him a pretty view of your pussy as you climbed into the back. There was something about the fact you were so unbothered and uncaring about patrons in the drive-in hearing or seeing you now because you only had one thought on your mind—and it was his cock.
Eddie groaned at the sight of you in the backseat, biting on your bottom lip as you looked at him with a sense of urgency. You wanted him. You needed him. And fuck, if that didn’t make blood rush down to his already painfully hard cock. 
His fingers moved down to unbutton his jeans, hand slipping beneath the waistband to squeeze the bulge in his boxers for some relief but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside you, he needed to feel you clenching around him, he needed to have your pretty pussy wrapped around him. 
The car was already reaching a point of warmth that would start to become unbearable with too many layers. With the windows already starting to fog up and a thin layer of sweat covering your skin, Eddie barely wasted any time in shedding a few layers until the boy’s flannel and shirt were thrown somewhere on the driver’s seat and his jeans and boxers were pulled down enough for him to pull his cock out, stroking the length of himself as you quickly shifted onto your hands and knees. 
His head was brushing against the roof of the car, the vehicle had probably already rocked a suspicious amount to the people around you and Eddie was certain that if somebody passed right now, they would get a direct view of his ass—but he didn’t care as he gripped your hips, pulling you back until your ass was flush against his pelvis and his cock was buried deep inside you.
“Shit,” he breathed out, his chin tucked against his chest as he watched the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock. He let out a whimpering noise when your walls clenched around him, squeezing him so tight he could have sworn he would’ve come instantly if he wasn’t using every ounce of self-control to hold himself back. “Feel like fuckin’ heaven, honey.”
“Please,” you whined, pushing back against him as your nails dug into the material of the seats. “You promised.” 
“I know, I know,” he cooed, that hint of the patronising tone lacing his words again and making you clench around him. “Gonna do what I promised, baby. Gonna fuck you dumb and make sure everybody in this drive-in knows it.” 
It shouldn’t have turned you on so much. It shouldn’t have made your stomach dip in desire. It shouldn’t have made your head spin with a kind of dizziness only Eddie Munson could bring. 
And yet, it did. 
And you were absolutely fucking shameless about it. You didn’t care what your patrons thought. You didn’t care if there were people there you knew and would see. You didn’t care about anything when Eddie was pounding into you from behind, your face squished against the car seat as he kept going and going and going. 
You didn’t care about drawing the attention of others as the car rocked with his movements, or the fact your hand pressed against the foggy window gave everyone a clear indication of what was happening. Not when the debauch noises of Eddie fucking you echoed through the car, the shameless sign of how much you loved this. 
You didn’t care about anything other than the bruising grip on your waist as he fucked your soaking pussy, as your walls clenched around him, as you moaned his name over and over and over until you felt white spots dotting your vision as you came around his cock. 
You could barely comprehend the world around as his fingers slipped into your mouth to muffle the whimpering moans you let out, to keep them just for himself as he thrusted one, two, three more times until he finally let himself go. You barely cared about anything else as you lazily sucked on his fingers, a low groan of appreciation sounding through the car as you felt him hunch over you, cooing at how well you did for him.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he pressed chaste kisses to your cheek, watching the way you blinked up at him as your tongue wrapped around his digits in your mouth. “God, you’re a fucking dream, baby.” 
“Hmmm,” you hummed, pleased with his response. 
You let out a huff of annoyance when he pulled his fingers from your mouth, but seemed happy enough that he showed no signs of moving from his spot just yet. Something about the weight of his body on top of you and his cock still buried deep inside you was oddly calming, and it wasn’t something you were willing to give up just yet.
“What are the chances Harrington never finds out we fucked in his car?” Eddie wondered out loud after a few beats of silence, causing you to let out a snort in response.
“Very, very low,” you murmured as you turned your head to the side so you could look up at your boyfriend. “I would recommend getting it dry cleaned. Maybe blessed by a priest.” 
Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s a tad dramatic.”
“I can feel your cum dripping down my leg and onto the seats,” you bluntly pointed out, but your lips were still twitched upwards in a smirk. “I’d hardly say that’s me being dramatic.”
“Okay, okay,” Eddie groaned as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses between words. “I’ll get it dry cleaned.”
“Good.”
“After a few more rounds.”
“Eddie!”
“What, baby? I have a few more fantasies I wanna play out and that dress isn’t helping,” he murmured, though you could feel his smirk against your skin. “If anything this is your fault.”
“Really?” You deadpanned. 
But the boy just flashed you an innocent smile, one that looked so sweet but you knew held a million untold, dirty promises in it.
.
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nemesis-writer · 20 days ago
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Tag you're it/Milk and Cookies
Masterlist TW: neglect, mentions of kidnapping, mention of blood
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Looking at me through your window Boy, you had your eye out for a little "I'll cut you up and make you dinner You've reached the end, you are the winner" Rolling down your tinted window Driving next to me real slow, he said "Let me take you for a joyride I've got some candy for you inside"
My family never cared what happened to me, since to them I was just a means to an end. I hated who I was and am now and I'd never forget the day that they finally got what they wished for.
Me to be gone...
Running through the parking lot He chased me and he wouldn't stop Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it Grabbed my hand, pushed me down Took the words right out my mouth Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it Can anybody hear me when I'm hidden underground? Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself? Saying, "Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it" He's saying, "Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"
The memory remained more vivid than every birthday I ever had. I was tortured, raped, and mentally abused. All of the sudden I became immune to all the emotional pain that I've been surmounting. It was like nothing matter anymore and the world finally made sense.
Little bit of poison in me I can taste your skin in my teeth "I love it when I hear you breathing I hope to God you're never leaving"
It never hurt me anymore I couldn't be bothered when they hit me, wound me, or even kill me anymore. None of it mattered.
All that mattered to me was the feeling of being free from the abuse at home and outside.
Eenie, meenie, miny, moe Catch your lady by her toes If she screams, don't let her go Eenie, meenie, miny, moe Your mother said to pick the very best girl And I am
It felt good knowing that I was right. They never loved me, it felt good being correct about something others would despise.
I can leave this world...
One, two, melatonin is coming for you Three, four, baby, won't you lock the door? Five, six, I'm done with this Seven, eight, it's getting late, so close your eyes, sleep for days
But no... of course that wish wouldn't come true, I always have to suffer.
So now I'm gonna give them the consequences for the mistake they made
Hush, little baby, drink your spoiled milk I'm fucking crazy, need my prescription filled Do you like my cookies? They're made just for you A little bit of sugar, but lots of poison too
I had the ability to escape, but no. I should enjoy the power I have in my hand.
I have never felt this joy for my whole life, and now to experience the true potential of my rage is thrilling.
Ashes, ashes, time to go down Ooh, honey, do you want me now? Can't take it anymore, need to put you to bed Sing you a lullaby where you die at the end
One by one the criminals all fall down. With the idea that I was someone who was worth even a single cent. Yet alone, millions of dollars.
I'd rather be dead, but this. This is so much more enjoyable.
Nine, ten, never want to see you again Eleven, twelve, I pull off black so well Shit behind the curtain that I'm sick of sugarcoatin' Next time you're alone, think twice when you grab the phone
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Taglist
@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia
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ficsinhistory · 6 months ago
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There's a criminally low amount of content about Wendy and man, I intend to take matters into my own hands! Her character is amazing, so here's my character analysis of Wendy's journey in the series, along with my two cents because her writing scratches my brain in the best possible way!
Spoiler for the entire Netflix series, Sweet Tooth.
Season 1
To begin with, after Gus, Jeep and Becky, Wendy is the most important character in Sweet Tooth. She, and by extension her mother, don't appear so early in the story for nothing. Not only that, but to talk about Wendy is to talk about other characters too, because her arc is intrinsically linked to the others. Even this season, where she appears relatively little.
As we already know, she is a hybrid girl found and raised by Aimee since she was a baby, which started the life of this woman in the story. Wendy is curious, likes to paint, loves her mother more than anything and helps her keep their little family of rescued hybrids safe and in peace.
What may go unnoticed, however, is how the PPreserve and rescue of hybrids as we know it only happens because of Wendy.
Aimee wanted nothing more to do with the outside world and was content to watch society burn, focusing only on looking after her daughter.
But Wendy listened to the people on the radio, realizing that they were afraid,andnot only felt sorry, but she also felt compelled to respond and help. She almost responded once and only didn't because her mother wouldn't let her.
Do you understand?
Wendy is such a youngchild, no more than nine years old, but she is already trying to take an active role in alleviating the suffering of others in the face of horrors. A fundamental characteristic of her character is compassion and that makes me so delighted!
 She's a child who should hate humans who aren't her mother. She should be selfish and only think about her life, and it would be normal because she's just a child.
 We have images of her in a peaceful life with Aimee. It could go on like this. But Wendy doesn't want to.
Because she has so much love inside her!
She loves her mom, her home, and these children she doesn't know but wants to have a safe place for. Which drives her to care for Bobby, even if her mother didn't let her.
This girl sticks to her ideals and acts on them because it's the right thing to do! She says that they have to help!
Wendy convinces Aimee to rescue hybrids, officially takes Bobby in, and assumes responsibilities as an older sister, taking charge of the Preserve with her mother. She learns ASL because not all her siblings speak. She knows what each one does and has been through.
Damn, the girl is a born nurturer! She's intelligent, brave and kind. So sociable and ready to put herself in a position to help that it's touching!
And it's not even for herself because we find out later that Wendy feels actively different from her siblings!
Probably because she's a highly developed hybrid and takes on too much responsibility to interact as an equal with the other children. Plus, she's not human either and doesn't see herself entirely as her mother either!
Wendy remains in this limbo that leaves her lonely and sad. A person who loves to be cared for but finds it difficult to let herself be cared for, and yet focuses not on her own feelings, but on others!
Things then get very ugly as the Preserve is discovered by Abbot.
And guess what? She wants freaking help, wanting to do anything she can for her mother and siblings, even though she's terrified, because sees herself as the leader of the place just like her mother!
Aimee decides that they need to run away, and Wendy needs to leave the place she has known all her life, separate from her mother and guarantee the lives of her siblings, all without losing control. After all, she's the big sister they trust with all their hearts, and they're her little brothers. And Wendy doesn't want to separate because, listen, it's dangerous for Aimee and she's worried that, more importantly, being alone might mess things up.
She is afraid of not guaranteeing everyone's life.
Wendy is fleeing the house she's lived in forever from people who actively hunt children like her and all she can think about is looking after the younger ones! It's an unimaginable amount of stress and tension that she handles like a champ! So much so that they make it to run with her leadership!
The problem was that the Last Men got there first, and they were captured. I can't imagine what a blow that must have been.
Her mother, the person Wendy loves most in the world, put her in charge of the family, relying on her intelligence and decision-making skills in her absence, and they were all caught. Not only that, with captivity leaving them incommunicado with Aimee, Wendy became "mom" until they were rescued.
And this initiates one of Wendy's main traumas and much of her arc in Season 2: her parentification in the mission of keep her siblings together and alive.
She really is Bear's sister, because like Becky, Wendy swallows her own feelings in the name of caring for a greater goal and does not process what she feels.
Because her mother has asked Wendy to be strong and she can't be wrong, afraid or insecure because it will cost her dearly!
She's a kid who's always felt responsible for others now having to really be the main support since everyone sees her as the person in charge, without Aimee.
To make matters worse, one of her siblings, Roy, is taken away and there's nothing she can do about it. A fact that haunts her all the time in captivity.
HOWEVER, when he's taken away, Gus shows up and GUESS WHAT???
WENDY IS THERE TO HELP THIS DEER BOY AND ADD HIM AS ANOTHER ONE SHE CARES FOR!!!
DO YOU UNDERSTAND? SHE SEES GUS AND SAYS: "YEAH, HE'S PART OF THE FAMILY NOW" EVEN THOUGH SHE ALREADY HAS SEVERAL OTHER CHILDREN TO LOOK AFTER AND DOESN'T NEED TO DO THAT!
THE GIRL HAS JUST LOST HER HOME, MOTHER, A BROTHER, BUT SHE LOOKS AT GUS FOR A FEW SECONDS SEEING THAT THIS BOY IS IN NEED OF A GOOD HUG AND SUPPORT AND PROVIDES IT BECAUSE WENDY IS KIND LIKE THAT!
Season 2
So much that her first scene of the second season is her personally taking care of Gus. He's having a nightmare and she goes there to get him out of it.
And boy, the second season isn't kind to Wendy at all (neither is the third, but that one isn't kind to anyone).
She and her siblings are stuck in the worst place in their old home and being treated like animals, with Wendy trying to maintain everyone's dignity. She doesn't want them to be treated like captive animals eating dog food, but her siblings need to eat and, with options scarce, she accepts her defeats.
The trials have only just begun, and she must feel like she's already failing because looking after her siblings is everything to her!
Even her name, Wendy, is significant in this respect.
Just like Wendy Darling from Peter Pan, the big sister who looks after the brothers well-being like a grown-up even though she's still a child. That is what she is! A child with a lot of pressure having to act like an adult because she's the big sister.
I think that's why she got attached to Gus so quickly.
He, like Wendy, is one of the few hybrids in the series who grew up in a loving home and was raised as an ordinary child since he was a baby. Gus is probably the only child in the series that Wendy has connected with on an equal footing, not being a sibling who needs her care. He's smart, brave and has this sense that they can't be treated like that too.
Gus understands and thinks similarly to Wendy, and she notices this. So much so that they both end up in this season as the "father and mother" of the hybrids in captivity, working and deciding on plans together.
Gus talks about running away and Wendy shows that them were already trying and failing miserably. She then officially introduces the rest of the hybrids to Gus, and we see how much she loves these children.
(And I have to say, I think it's really cute that the sign she chooses for Gus is his antlers).
As an older sister myself, I can say that Wendy is excellent. This girl knows everything about her siblings to the point of being able to tell Gus every quirk that he's going to have to deal with. She cares and tries to accommodate each one as best she can.
And then we're hit with Roy's reminder. And how everyone there is counting on her.
Because Wendy misses her mother, is scared and hungry as much as any of them but can't afford to just be like that. Because the others actively depend on her. To the point where Jojo asks when Roy is coming back, even though she's been in the same place as them the whole time.
 All the children see her as this figure of answers that Wendy isn't but needs to be.
Wendy is 👏🏽nine👏🏽years👏🏽years old👏🏽!
Then they manage to come up with a plan to call Aimee on the radio and thanks to Bobby's skills, they get the key and manage to escape. With Wendy taking the initiative by knowing how to operate by observation.
Except that she's starting to crack under all this pressure. And the most devastating thing is that it's not even about her.
It is for her family.
Wendy is👏🏽nine👏🏽years👏🏽years old👏🏽, is surrounded by bad people (so the possibility of dying is very real) but her concern is that if she doesn't make it her siblings will pay the price.
Like Roy. Because Wendy feels responsible, even though it's not her fault.
This girl doesn't even think about her own life!
And that's what makes Gus' support vital. Because, up until this point, no one was looking after Wendy apart from Aimee. Sure, her brothers care and love her, but she's still the mother figure, the leader, the nurturer.
But Gus is supportive and looks after Wendy just as she does him. He assures her that she will not only make it but will go with her to help. He brings optimism and perseverance to her care and caution.
Is very nice that, in Wendy's arcs in general, she always has to accept help in order to be able to help. She gets help from Gus and later from Becky. She doesn't have to deal with everything on her own. She's not alone. She gets as much love and care as she offers.
Returning to the escape, the two of them cross the zoo to the radio room, a sequence that cements their connection and how Wendy and Gus now work together as equals.
They reach the radio and Wendy has her confidence renewed with the help of Gus's reassurances (which is ridiculously cute by the way), warning Aimee. However, things start to go wrong.
They almost get caught, which forces them to hide again, and Wendy comes across her brother's formaldehyde-dipped corpse.
Do you realize how insane this is?!
 Wendy now has confirmation that Roy is dead, that they are in serious danger and more pressure as if didn't have enough already. Not only that, but their mother also doesn’t answer. They end caught and the few means been taken away from them, with Bobby on a leash and Jonnhy reinforcing security with cameras.
Not only that, but now she and Gus must tell the truth about why Roy isn't coming back.
... except that Gus lies without thinking twice and puts Wendy in an impasse that she does not see much way out of other than agreeing.
 We realize that despite the brief time they've known each other, Wendy trustsGus even though she doesn't agreewith him. The girl could have denied everything on the spot, but decided not to because the moral was already low and it was a lighter way out, although not ideal. Even though she knew deep down that it wouldn't work out and would come back to bite them later.
Even so, Wendy isstill going to have some much-needed words with Gus because doesn't agree and says that lying creates a rupture that will be difficult to mend. That's what her mother taught, and he's put that trust in check (and so has she).
But above all, Wendy is distraught by the whole situation.
And Gus understands. Because he sees that, although the lie is one of the reasons she's so angry, much of the anger comes from the guilt Wendy is carrying. Of being captured and losing Roy. And he shares his experiences to make her feel better. That he understands because he's been there. And that things will get better. They will not end up dead, and they'll all get out of this together.
And Wendy brings Teddy into the conversation, revealing for the first time what is really bothering her to Gus.
She doesn't know how to look after her siblings without her mother and maybe can't do it on her own.
She is being truly vulnerable for the first time since was kidnapped, expressing doubt and fear freely and being the comforted one rather than the comforter, to which Gus replies that she doesn't have to do it alone, because they'll think of something. And that she can do it because Wendy is clever (Jesus, they're so cute!).
And Wendy is accepting help from someone other than her mother for the first time, and it's lovely to see. Because, remember, Wendy is 👏🏽nine👏🏽years👏🏽years old👏🏽. She's just seen her brother killed, has to lie about it and can't mourn properly, having to look after the siblings left without their mother, who doesn't even know if she's alive.
Guilt, responsibility and family are major elements of Wendy's arc. And the series talks about how in order to deal with all of them in a healthy way we have to forge connections in love, experiences and mutual affection. Beautifully illustrated in this conversation.
Finally, she has a foothold again...which is immediately ripped away from her.
Seriously, as soon as these poor kids have finished talking, Gus is taken out of Wendy's hands. Literally. She's still fighting it, but there's no way.
Man, the look on her face when Gus is carried off can only be described as devastated, her eyes glistening with tears, and so absorbed that she doesn't even react to the guard's mockery.
 The first person who really understood her since the whole ordeal began is going to meet the fate that Wendy knows killed her brother.
This leaves her so shaken that her next scene is of her curled-up crying, hugging Bobby.
Dude, that's a hard blow! The girl lost her mother, her home, one of her younger brothers and now her new best friend in two days tops!
 Fortunately, Gus not only returns, but informs her that he has bought them some time and brought a nightlight for Teddy that Wendy had mentioned. This makes her incredibly happy and grateful, as well as making Gus accepted as another older brother by the rest of the hybrids.
So much so that when dog is found, Wendy and Gus are called in to see and organize the next steps.
A quick aside to say that I congratulate the writers for handling Wendy and Gus' arc like champs. Sweet Tooth is about Found Family, friendships forged in the face of adversity and I'm thankful every day that the most canon romantic subplot was Rani and Adi (and we know how that one ended).
 However, they've managed to translate Gus and Wendy's dynamic well in a way that makes it clear that they are best friends, but their connection is stronger and deeper than just friendship per se and different from what either of them has, and we understand well why they end up building a family together in the end. They are basically soulmates who decided to get married, having had a strong enough love from the start regardless of the form.
Anyway. Wendy now has the support of Gus in leading the children and everyone begins to organize for the escape with the signal given by Aimee and Jepp, who are together. However, they have nowhere to go, Gus still has his own traumas related to his return to Yellowstone and Bobby is on a leash. Not only that, but the lie about Roy is getting out of hand.
Jonnhy then shows up to take Gus away at Singh's request and everyone must wait alone with the others until he returns, at the same time as the adults get on the Last Men's radar. However, they couldn't reach the zoo and have to leave town.
And we get one of Wendy's stand-out scenes of the season.
Her mother is alive, but she's and Big Man aren’t coming back, and no one knows why they left or if they'll return. She is then faced with the harsh possibility that will be in charge not until Aimee rescues them, but from now on. She's going to have to be the "mother" for real now because waiting is no longer an option, she's going to have to act.  Wendy will now have to guide them and come up with an escape plan, a👏🏽nine👏🏽years👏🏽years old👏🏽!
 If before she was the mother figure with the only grace in all the pressure of keeping everyone together being the rescue of the mother, now she has to actively get them out without knowing when or if can see her mother again, taking on a position that no child should take on.
But Wendy is too brave and too full of love for her family to give up and disappoint them. Not when they are the ones she holds most dear. Even though she's overwhelmed, afraid and grieving.
Gus then returns, informed that the rescue has gone and that they are on their own, and brings exactly what was missing: somewhere to go. He brings hope and perspective, a light at the end of the tunnel. And we see how much Wendy values this and genuinely cares for him.
He then gives more details about Yellowstone and tells stories about Bear, this being the first mention of the sister Wendy has, even though she doesn't know it.
I have to say that she's a real one impressed with Becky and that it's amazing how alike these two are.
This little girl has just as much talent for leadership and strategy as her sister, and just as strong a temper. I mean, this nine-year-old unashamedly states that she hates the cell guard, is happy to hear about the death of the Last Men, has a firm and somewhat cheeky personality, as well as resorting to violence without blinking an eye. I am sure she'd have her own army under other circumstances too, lol.
Escape plans are being made when things start to go wrong. Gus is taken away again, and it's becoming apparent that things are different for him. 
The children begin to question Wendy about the obvious difference in treatment, asking why he can have some freedom and if wouldn’t ending up running away like Roy. Of course, she knows that Roy is dead, but that brings up something very real: Gus has different circumstances. Those bad people want him alive, a grace that she and the others don't have.
Wendy replies that they can trust Gus of course, but the doubts are already there.
Rani's visit bring some relieves, but rock bottom arrives when the cell guard reveals the truth about Roy and Wendy is confronted about the lie alone in a claustrophobic scene and she ends up folding under so much pressure and giving in to mistrust.
And I don't blame her.
To begin with, Wendy is alone taking onthe consequences of a lie that was Gus's idea, which she would never have told if it hadn't been for him, who goes against everything Aimee taught him. Her mother and the person she love most.
Now it is brought to light that the person who is helping her the most is also the one who is being "favored", no matter how much she wants to ignore it.
It is in this fragile state that we see how Wendy's trauma has left its mark on her.
She loves Gus very much but is so overwhelmed and worried that she chooses fear and distrust over her inherent empathy and goodwill.
Because Wendy is only nine years old and is a scared child, no matter how much tries to want to be more than that, tasked with a duty that's too big and too stressful. And what's a bigger breach of trust for frightened children than lying?
That doesn't make it any easier for her. On the contrary.
Wendy got attached to Gus, remember? She loves him as much as her brothers, he is her best friend. But her best friend also lied and came back from what was supposed to kill them.
Something that her worry and above all her guilt cannot let go of.
Because Gus always came back while Roy didn't. While none of her brothers would come back. And Wendy won't let it happen again.
She couldn't take it.
Even if this separation makes you more tense, stressed and lost, because that's how fear leaves you.
That's why I find it symbolic that Bobby is the first to trust Gus again.
Bobby is the embodiment of Wendy's love and empathy. The child she took in before his mother allowed it because it was the right thing to do. From her thought of having to help others hoping for the best, not the worst.
A thought she still has. It's just... buried under guilt and pressure.
So much so that when Wendy angrily confronts Gus about letting Bobby go, he just... apologizes.
Because he recognizes that his best friend doesn't really see him as different. Because Wendy is just desperate to keep everyone together, alive, and having a tough time with it, which affects the way she acts. And that yes, he had made things worse, despite his best intentions. That Wendy reacted like him after finding out the truth about Paba and Birdie because lies hurt. And this sincere response moves her so much that he manages to calm her down, even a little.
Because they're still friends, they're still each other's support. That's thetruth and it hasn't changed.
So much so that when Wendy is threatened, Gus doesn't hesitate to protect her, although he ends up panicking after learning what happened to Peter and the results of trusting Singh.
And Wendy supports him immediately after he returns from what was essentially a torture session with Abbot.
At that moment, we see her returning to the way she really is.
A brave, kind, empathetic and loving girl who wants nothing more than to help those in need and relieve their fears. Especially those she cares.
And Wendy ignores all the misunderstandings from before because Gus arrives frightened.
Her best friend is trembling, terrified, and she does not hesitate for a second. With the necessary space given, he says he's feeling guilty, afraid, and the roles are reversed.
Now Gus needs to be comforted. And Wendy acts like him, bringing her experience to make him feel better. Assuring him that they will make it and make it stronger. Together.
Because they are friends. Family. He is one of them.
This attitude restores their bond and marks Wendy's choice of friendship, love and connection over fear and mistrust.
The day of the escape arrives, and we see this bond cemented when she entrusts one of the most important parts of the plan to Gus. Not only that, but she also openly supports him when doubts about him threaten to return.
After all, this is the boy who protected and helped her, Wendy doesn't need to fear. No need to give in to fear and anxiety.
She's only nine, but she's already chosen the right path more than most adults.
The plan is put into practice, the guard is subdued, and everyone escapes. A hilarious scene with a little personal revenge on the guy.
However, the soldiers are alerted by the flare that Jepp throws, and Teddy almost gets caught. Gus sets himself up as a distraction for the others to escape and guarantees his friend's life, providing a scene that shows just how important he is to this Wendy.
She is simply paralyzed by Gus leaving. We can see her conflict clearly because she loves Gus as much as her brothers. She doesn't want them to be separated. And only the reminder that this is the chance at his request for everyone to be okay that keeps her going.
Because again, Wendy is full of love and compassion, feelings that overflow in everything she does and even inspire everyone around her.
It inspired Aimee to rescue other children. Rani to see hybrids as more than wild animals. Gus to talk and fight for everyone's life.
Wendy is a symbol of this. How no, it's not easy to maintain empathy, kindness and a sense of community in the worst of times... but it is possible. It's necessary. Because we only really live when we love and connect. Otherwise, it's just survival, which turns you into a shell of what you once were and fought for.
And all the kindness she shows is reciprocated in a beautiful domino effect of positive consequences in which Gus refuses to leave with a newly arrived Jepp without the others, which saves her siblings, makes her reunite with her mother because she refused to leave her best friend behind and ultimately generates a successful escape.
Wendy got everything she wanted thanks to her love, empathy, and resilience. Gestures that could be described as naive or weak, but which turned out to be her greatest asset.
And she can be a child with her siblings and mother in a new home once again. All because Wendy decided for the love and unity that allowed connections with like-minded peers.
... Unfortunately, that doesn't last long.
Because Aimee gets the Sick and Becky finds her.
The end of the second and third seasons dealt with the same arc of community, siblinghood and family that has always been Wendy's hallmark, albeit from a perspective of mourning, maturing and new beginnings.
They finally arrive in Yellowstone, their new place to call home. Life seems to be working out again.
Her mother is there. Her brothers are there. Gus is there. They're eating real food once again. She can go back to drawing. Everything is fine, she made it. They've made it. She even has new friends, Becky in particular who is always genuinely nice to her.
And then her mother calls her to talk, and Wendy finds out that Aimee is going to die (not only that, I dare say that Wendy was the only child who knew, as the only one who didn't wish her mother well when they separated).
The person who has always looked after Wendy, the person she loved most in the world... is simply leaving and will never come back. With one last request from her mother in front of the fire for her, for everyone, to explore a world that is theirs. After everything she's been through.
And this beginning of the end comes with Tiger's warning that Abbot is coming after them.
The children need to hide, and they split up.
Wendy is only nine years old and has to say goodbye to her mother for good after all she's done to find her again and keep everyone together. Not only that, but her best friend is also falling behind, and she finds herself in the worst position she could want: unable to do anything to help.
 And she doesn't take it well at all. Wendy is numb to the facts, still doing the best to maintain order, but her mind couldn't be more disturbed. She wants to go back and fight. To help Gus and, especially, Aimee.
And Becky, poor thing, is trying to console her as best she can.
Except that Wendy gets progressively more impatient and irritated because still has no idea who Becky is, only that the warrior tells her to wait while all the people she loves most in the world are risking their lives. To stay safe.
For a girl who has never done anything but take risks and fight for those she cares about regardless of the danger.
Even though Becky still tries to appeal to her siblings, Wendy jumps in and runs off into the chaos. Which, considering everything she'd done so far had been for them, shows that this girl has a lot of personality.
However, she ends up being caught, taken back by Becky and discovering that they are sisters.
...at the worst possible moment, because between her grief and the urge to do something, Wendy is overwhelmed and ignores Becky. She only comes to her senses when she is saved from bisons.
Reality finally hits. She has a sister who loves her and has searched for her for years, and who she genuinely feels is there... but doesn't know. Becky is not familiar.
Nothing about it is.
Wendy has been the big sister all her life. The one who protects all her life. The leader of the hybrid children and whose care came from her mother. Now Becky arrives, with Aimee on the verge of death, and has her as precious family. Wendy is on the other side this time. The protégé instead of the protector.
This girl is nine years old and her whole reality is disintegrating.
Fortunately, she manages to arrive in time to have one last conversation with her mother before she passes away with a final promise of consolation.
Then we have the funeral scene. Not just of Aimee, but of Wendy's childhood and innocence. Poignantly represented when she stops wearing her bow on her head.
A symbol of childhood.
So much so that in the next scene she appears reading a story about...growing up.
Because she'll never be the child she was. Life has taken a lot from her. Now it's up to what she's going to do with all these changes. With all the numbness of grief and the new relationship with Becky.
We also see that she is going to accompany Gus, choosing to help him as his brothers are safe. It makes sense, he is one of the most important people in the world to her and they've been through enough trauma bonding and life connections to seal that Gus is as much a priority to Wendy as her mother was. They find Birdie's possible location and they go after her in Alaska.
Season 3
Things start off lightly with a car ride, one of the few scenes in which Wendy and Gus are children. The two are even much more in tune this season, clearly being a rock for each other, providing mutual support, wearing complementary colors and all.
We also see Becky trying to be a good sister and ensuring the safety of her dear little sister and Jepp struggling to be a father of three.
It is also remarkable that Wendy's grief for Aimee still affects her and her relationship with Becky, for example when she sniffs out a family killed by The Sick.
They arrive at a casino and, a few puns later, the children sniff out food, get caught in a trap and end up meeting a group of elderly people who run the place. They deny the necessary supplies and in the middle of the conversation, death is brought up once again. Which, for the nine-year-old girl who has just lost her mother, is obviously too much.
She hasn't fully processed Aimee's departure and this pain has a bearing on her ability to form bonds with her new sister.
Because, ironically, although deeply empathetic, Wendy it is extremely difficult to be vulnerable.
Which comes to light with his relationship with Becky.
 In the whole show, this girl has so far only been able to connect with her mother, who raised her from the cradle, and Gus, who is her best friend and basically kindred spirit. Wendy has always felt out of place and had trouble relating, ever since the first season.
Having an older sister is not familiar in any way to Wendy. On the contrary, it puts her in an uncomfortable position, even more so with her mother dying, and the opposite of everything she has lived through. Even the fact that Becky is human puts her in a different position from Wendy.
That's why Gus is the one who can console her.
As I said before, the writers were goats at working out Gus and Wendy's connection. They look alike and this similarity illustrates their connection with flying colors. Gus understands what it's like to lose the person who's looked after you all your life. That's all Wendy needed to hear. That it wasn't fair, that it never stops hurting. And that they dealt with it together. Which is familiarity and support enough for Wendy to pull herself together.
Although this leaves Becky feeling powerless.
Things at the Casino don't work out and they have to go without supplies.
Wendy is obviously irritated by the petty behavior of those idiots, and she reflects on old age together with Gus, promising to be better when it's their turn. It's a cute scene, especially because they're children in a world that wants them dead (dying too) and reaching that age hasn't been possible for many, both hybrids and humans.
And once again, Wendy thinks of others in the moment, reinforcing her empathy, her bond with Gus and some very well done foreshadowing (I'll never stop finding it endearing how Wendy just decided that yes, Gus will be around until her old age and they'll still be close and that's that, after stealing one of the boy's coats. Soulmates are soulmating).
However, an avalanche hits and the group narrowly escapes. And mortality surfaces once again, this time for her sister.
 Becky and Jepp may be dead and Wendy panics. She and Gus have barely escaped, and he can't hear them. However, Gus manages to calm her down and they find them both.
Then we see that Wendy really does love Becky, she just doesn't know how to deal with the change. Which is understandable. After an intense exchange between Gus and Jeep, they manage to get to Idaho and rest...
...for a few moments before Dr. Singh appeared.
I love how Wendy immediately calls him out for killing Roy! That's it! My girl holds grudges and it's iconic! No one messes with her family and gets away with it! However, Gus agrees to bring Adi with them, and they all escape thanks to the wolf boys who found them. They make their way to a house and meet Ven.
He won't let the children in because they are hybrids, forcing Wendy and Gus to wait outside while the others help his wife give birth.
During the wait, Gus asks if Wendy is angry about bringing Singh. It's sweet that he worries about it. After all, Aditya murdered her brother and that's not taken lightly. On the other hand, it's also sweet how Wendy isn't angry per se, even though she obviously can't stand the doctor's presence.
Trust has always been the basis between them, and she trusts Gus' decisions, only questioning whether he believes Adi is telling the truth. This shows how the pair have evolved over this long road.
That's when they spot a human child and Wendy decides, bless her sociable little soul, that they should talk to the boy (who just for the record was running away from them and yet she decides yes, new friend spotted lol).
They then meet Theo, Ven's son, and the rooster Kirby. Wendy is thrilled to meet another child, taking the initiative to introduce herself and interact. This girl doesn't have a bad bone in her body and her hobby is collecting friends at the end of the world, which is why the rooster approves of her.
She and Gus talk more about the hybrids, and we realize that Theo is a genuinely nice boy, but clearly misguided. He thinks they can't read, that they eat people and that they're not normal, basically. Thoughts that are misguided to say the least, but which the pair don't take to heart because it's a clear influence from their parents.
Theo loves to fly. He loves flying very much. And it doesn't take long for Wendy to connect the dots, her intelligence and observation skills highlighted once again. With a bit of gentle prodding from her and Gus, Theo reveals that he's a hybrid too. It's just that he suffers from self-loathing because of what he's been taught, hiding his animal characteristics thanks to his family.
We have a powerful moment of him learning from a speech by Gus that no, that doesn't make him abnormal, but special. That no one, whether someone else's opinion or his parents, can take away what makes him special. Theo then tells Ven his plan and the three of them go to stop him hurting his newborn son.
They succeed, but Ven hands them over to Zheng, but not before Theo gives them a van.
I feel this was one of the hardest trials for both Wendy and Gus. Both were raised by loving parents who nurtured their nature as hybrids, but seeing how they are more the exception than the rule has certainly touched them. Especially Gus, who is in the very arc of taking responsibility for everything and everyone.
And once again, we see how these children are rocks in each other's lives with Wendy assuring them that they'll be fine, even if Theo didn't accept the invitation to come along. Both holding hands in support.
They get to the beach to catch the ship to Canada, but everyone has already left. As the journey progresses to a point of no return, Wendy begins to get anxious.
She can't stop thinking about her siblings and above all, she can't stop thinking about Becky. Wendy can resist Sick for being a hybrid and escaping from hunters because that's what she's been doing for the last few weeks.
But her older sister is more likely to get hurt. And although Becky thinks Wendy is distant, here we see that it couldn't be the other way around. She has finally gotten used to her sister and is afraid of losing her too, especially with Aditya's predictions that humanity is on the brink of extinction.
So much so that when they discover that the new boat will not fit everyone, I believe Wendy had already decided not to go to Alaska.
 Because she didn't want to put Becky in danger. Not after hearing that she could lose her too. She wants to try to build that bond. Wendy is nothing but a family person, after all.
So much so that she gives Gus one last gesture of support by fixing his antler as a reminder and saying that she believes in him no matter what. Because he can handle. Gus is smart, immune and has Jepp with him. But Becky only has her and needs her more.
This is reinforced by the conversation with Coral.
When Rosie arrived, her mind was made up. Seriously, you could see the certainty and confidence in that girl's eyes. She knows that Gus can do it and that now her sister is the priority.
I believe Wendy's original plan was to return with Becky to Yellowstone and wait until Gus and the others returned, taking advantage of the time to get to know each other better and take care of the others.
...except that they are attacked by one of the wolf boys and Becky narrowly saves Wendy by accidentally killing Bruno, a hybrid, which shakes her to the core and creates guilt in her for going against her mission.
She is captured and Wendy's new focus is to save her sister. The teenager just appeared in her life and no way losing her is an option.
Becky is not having a good time. Captured and questioned by Zheng, I believe she believed that Wendy had left her. That's what she asked for.
Becky's character is at the height of her trauma here. She's lost the animal army; her sister apparently doesn't accept her as family and now she's killed a child she swore to protect. As well as being tricked by Jordan and revealing where Gus and Jepp are going. She has no purpose anymore.
This teenager no longer has any impulse to fight and, in short, has lost the instinct for self-preservation. Everything she did was for Wendy, who in her mind was safe and could go back to be with the kids she loved. And soon Gus and Jepp would be back, and everything would be fine.
The face she makes when she is taken to Alaska is that of someone who has accepted her own end. At most, Becky would stay alive for Wendy, not for herself. I think she gave up on herself a while ago, in fact.
She just didn't count on the unconditional love and iron persistence of Wendy who, once again, made the right decisions and achieved positive consequences. Choosing her sister only allowed her to show Beckey that she loved her, reignited the teen will to live and later guaranteed the support behind the curtains that Gus would need.
Wendy sets off for Alaska by getting on Zhang's plane, hiding in the same car Rosie was using and listening to the transmission with the plans, meeting the wolf boys (the first hostile hybrids she has ever met), staying safe thanks to the protective screen and infiltrating the enemy base.
Bear is not having a good time once again with Jordan making fun of her. Seriously, this guy gives me the crepes! He gives me the vibe of a kid who doesn't have his life under control and in order to get some, he ruins other people's lives because he feels like he's in charge. This jerk uses the Animal Army against her, threatens her with Helen's whole plan about births (remembering that Becky already said she didn't want children) stopping only when Rosie arrived.
Rosie questions her and Becky manages to make a connection by seeing that she loves her children, something the grieving mother didn't expect. Ginger then needs help, leaving the way open for Wendy to get her sister back and Becky with the opportunity to escape.
Jordan picks her up and is a weirdo once again when Wendy invades and chooses violence! This little girl is nine years old, but she's going to move heaven and earth in the name of the one she loves. It was so satisfying for me to watch her wipe the floor with Jordan, you have no idea!
It's lovely to see how far Wendy has come with her acceptance of her sister. She has overcome her grief for Aimee and accepted Becky as family and someone to care for. She has matured and grown up, ready now to be the support her older sister needed, returning the affection she received.
This was essential not only for Wendy but also for Becky. She did everything for her lost sister and after the two reconcile, this traumatized girl can begin to heal too.
With the rescue successful, Wendy sets out to help the rest of her family. It's in Alaska, in fact, that we see the best of her leadership and strategy skills. Position of the guards, where to go and where not to go. I can't help but laugh when she asks Becky why she didn't fight.
Wendy has no chill when it comes to the people she loves. A menace!
They take a car and head out into the blizzard after Gus and Jepp but end up getting lost. They stop and we finally see how Becky feels: she has spent so much time finding and looking after Wendy that she has forgotten to look after herself. She thinks she has no future or expectations in becoming an adult. Just as Aimee thought, that for humans, death is inevitable and hybrids are the future. That her little sister shouldn't waste her time or risk her life to save humanity and her.
And Wendy sees guilt, self-sacrifice and the conformism of the end, things that she herself and even Aimee had. And she says no. Becky doesn't deserve to die just for being human. She and the others are not inherently better for being hybrids. Rosie's wolf boys would tear her apart if they could, even if she was one of them.
Nor for being a bad human for defending herself. The fault lies with Zheng, who made them feel lost and like war machines. For pushing them, all of them including Becky, to extremes like death. Wiping Becky's face as she finally cries for the first time since the Animal Army dies.
But there would be good people to help guide them. Like Aimee was for Wendy, and Wendy would be for Becky.
This scene of consolation between the two of them cleansed my skin, watered my crops, and cured my anxiety. Because finally Becky is feeling Wendy's love back, seeing that she can have the bond with her sister that she always wanted.
They continue with the help of the constellation that Aimee spoke of before she died, finding Jepp in Birdie's old house, but without Gus. Which can only mean that the boy was outside.
The sisters send after him and stay to help stop Zhang and retake the base from the Alaska survivors who are also there before the polar night. With the plan in place, of which the two were also the leaders, everyone goes into action.
At the Alaska base, Becky and Wendy manage to break in and seize control of the wolf boys thanks to Nuka and Siena. To fulfill their part of the plan, the two need to lure the wolf boys and trap them, then stop a large station machine called the Beast, which Jordan has been assigned to drive.
Everything narrowly goes wrong when Rosie manages to figure out the plan, but the sisters arrest them, not without attracting the attention of Zhang's people in the process.
Much chaos, destruction and death ensue, especially after Rosie's children are freed by their mother and Zhang arrives at the tree-antler, ordering the Beast to come. Siena says there's one last chance to stop the Beast, since getting to the garage isn't working, by going to the greenhouse.
Opportunity presents itself when Wendy picks up and throws a Molotov into flammable oil barrels at enemy personnel. Seriously, this girl chooses and is great at violence. Her sister is proud and so am I.
(Man, I love my unhinge sisters who canonically have a body count).
However, it wasn't enough to stop the machine and Jordan heads off to the cave with Rosie, Ginger and Tex. Fortunately, Nuka thinks of a plan to stop the machine with harpoons, and they all leave too.
I'm not going to lie, the scene of the invasion of the Alaskan base is one of my favorites. Seeing Becky and Wendy being leaders together and having sisterly synergy is everything to me. These two are so alike and that shines through here. As well as relieving the parallel cave arc that...well, is not making Gus have a very good time to say the least.
In the chase, Wendy and Backy hold Rosie back from shredding and Siena harpoons the Beast's fuel tank, but Becky has to jump it to speed up the leak, much to Wendy's dismay.
Things get worse when one of the wolf boys almost catches her, but with her spirits renewed thanks to her conversation with her sister, Becky manages to subdue the boy in a non-lethal way. She tries to convince Jordan to give up, but he's too stuck in his convictions that forces Becky to make a drastic decision and turn into the Beast.
And man, if Wendy was scared before, she's terrified now. This nine-year-old girl has already lost her mother and now her sister may have died too. Certainly, one of the worst moments in Wendy's life, even more so with Sick being released because of the exposed sap from the tree.
She had everything stolen from her: the house she lived in, her mother, her childhood, innocence, freedom and now she could have lost her sister.
 Wendy is indeed very brave and kind because this girl had extraordinarily strong reasons to hate everyone and everything. After Gus, she is easily the child who has suffered the most in the entire series. But Wendy has nothing but good faith and love in her body and if that isn't an example of resilience, I don't know what is.
I think that's the word that most defines Wendy: resilience. She persists and maintains kindness in the face of a world that hates her because there are people in it who love her and whom she learns to love, like Aimee, her brothers, Gus and Becky, who survives the accident.
The two sisters meet, reaffirming their love for each other and what a moment, my friends!
That's when they hear one of Rosie's children. Wendy, being Wendy, releases him without further ado, using her empathy to calm the boy down. Rosie even goes as far as to threaten them, but she's clearly only doing it to defend her son and no longer sees any point in such senseless violence.
Especially as finally recognizes that Becky is just like her when she realizes that the sister she talks about so much is also a hybrid and sees that everything has changed since that day. Ginger goes into labor, and everyone goes to help her.
Gus and Jeep finally get out of the cave and the group has an emotional reunion. The journey ends with confirmation that the hybrids are the new dominant species, but humans remain will be able to live without fear. Gus thanks everyone, asking for some time with Jepp and Wendy continues down the mountains with Becky.
The trials are officially over, and everyone finally has peace. Wendy, Gus, Becky and (for me, for the sake of my future fics and psychology) Jeep return to Yellowstone where they build a community based on peace and a respectful remembrance of the past.
Becky can finally stop having to take on a fighting role and have a lighter life, helping to look after the children and her sister while honoring the Animal Army's original mission to protect the hybrids by now looking after them. As well as getting some peace and beginning to heal, watching her little sister become a leader in her own right.
 Jeep can finally grow old calmly, taking care of his new children, and making amends for the past with a new perspective. No more fighting or pushing the boundaries.
Gus can now have full freedom with his questions answered, settling things with nature itself and bringing the cure he and his mother wanted. Being able to concentrate on living and taking care of this new community that he so longed for in a more peaceful world.
And of course we have the character of the review: Wendy! She made peace with Aimee's grief, bonded with her sister and was finally able to take care of her family and the hybrids as she wanted. Finding support in Becky and Gus, whom she eventually marries and, even after they've grown old, are still each other's rocks.
In a future that promises nothing but good things.
Final considerations
And that was the analysis!
Wendy is my favorite character, and it was great to do this analysis! This girl is very underrated, and it was great to give her a bit more love!
 You can't approach her alone because her character has always been about community. It makes me happy that she has achieved one, with a secure family and honoring her desire to help other hybrids as she always wanted and her mother's desire to see and inherit the world.
Wendy received as much love as she gave and was never alone as a result, from childhood to old age, even when it wasn't easy.
And if that's not a good message, I don't know what is. Thank you for reading my thoughts.
Please share what you think, I would love to hear it!
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cazzyf1 · 1 month ago
Text
My favourite quotes from the book 'Mon Ami Mate'
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This took me a few months to read this book and I wrote down a lot of quotes so be prepared for a long read - but definitely worth it to learn more about Mike Hawthorn & Peter Collins
"Two years later, the World War Two fighter airfield at Westhampnett became Goodwood racing circuit and, as it was just a few miles south of the Farnham area, the Members (Mike's friend group) soon found their way there. 'Mike would never pay to get in' says McNab, 'He would climb over the fence, scrounge a couple of tickets and then pass them through, so we all got in for free'" - p8
"Nick Harrison remembers a dinner party for ten or a dozen people at The Sally Lunn restaurant in Bagshot when Mike left the table at the end of the evening, climbed out of the toilet window and went home, rather than pay his share of the bill. 'That was typical of him' says Nick, 'Not because he was mean, but because loved to get away with it - it was a sort of challenge for him'" - p8
"Mike and McNab once counted twenty-four pints of light ale disappearing down the Hawthorn gullet during the course of an evening" - p8
"We became great friends, but if he didn't like you he would tread on you and I know people who felt that he was a most unpleasant young man. There was a very dark side to Mike and although he was tremendously popular I would say that twenty per-cent of the people who came into contact with him couldn't stand him" - p9
"Mike found Merridale (his house) a very lonely place, so the McNabs (best friends family) took him under their wing and he stayed with them for some six months. Although clearly upset by his parents separation, Mike never discussed it - even with Neil, whose bedroom he shared. He loved both his parents dearly and refused to allow their break up to alter his feelings towards either" - p9
"Here Peter went underwater swimming, or snorkeling, then a new sport rapidly becoming popular. He hired flippers, helmet and spear-gun and caught many good size fish, which he sold to pay for more swimming lessons" - p18
"He could be a very serious young man, especially where his cars were concerned. He was dedicated to them and if I wasn't out with him some nights he'd go to Ron and Mary's house and talk with them for hours. They were his closest friends and I don't remember Peter ever having a particular man friend at all" - p21
"On the home front, Peter adored his mother and had established good fraternal relations with his sister Trisha (now nine), who naturally hero-worshipped her dashing brother, the racing driver. There was a certain distance, however, between father and son, who were occasionally not on speaking terms" - p21
"Throughout 1951 Mike had raced the Rileys dressed in his everyday clothes, which included a tie. However, if the weather was warm and he wasn't wearing a pullover the tie would flap about in his face, which could be very disconcerting, so he began wearing one of his bow ties for racing" - p33/34
"He was driving into an Italian village at a fair clip when he and co-driver Chips Chipperton spotted a large sign saying 'Adagio', which means 'slowly'. 'Isn't that where the dancing girls come from?' Asked Mike, without lifting his foot, and promptly crashed into a stone bridge" - p39/40
"Mike went to Val d`Isere, in Switzerland, for a skiing holiday with fellow-member Mike Currie. It was not a great success, as first of all Mike got involved in a serious party after a smallpox inoculation, which combined with his alchol intake to lay him out for four or five days. When he was able to stand up again he tried skiing for the first time, only to fall down constantly. He quickly decided that various parts of the lanky Hawthorn frame were liable to snap in this dangerous endeavour and made for the comparative safety of the bar." - p44
"Having learned that his days with a green Ferrari were over he decided to add a dark green, zip-front jacket, or wind cheater, to his racing uniform. "If I can't drive a green car," he told Neil McNab, "at least I can wear a green jacket!" - p47
"The young British driver stood for the British National Anthem with tears of emotion running down his cheeks while the crowd audibly gasped with amazement when he took off his helmet and they saw his obvious youth, after a drive in which he matched every champion on the circuit with courage, speed and racecraft." - p50
"Mike spent the festivities in London with his friends, Pat and Jill Hume-Kendall, who were now the proud parents of a four month old baby boy named Simon. On Christmas morning Pat and Mike took Simon (Mike's godson) to the pub, leaving Jill to prepare lunch. "On their way home, Mike decided to demonstrate a four-wheel drift with the pram and tipped my beautiful baby onto the pavement, scraping his little head" recalls Jill, with a shudder. "I was absolutely furious, of course, and it completely ruined our Christmas lunch"." - p59
"'The night before the rally I went to bed' says Adams 'But Peter was out on the town, chasing girls' (He would chat up the maids at every hotel we went to)" - p75
"Early in 1953 Peter went to live in Paris. 'He went there to escape National Service' says John Wyer. 'There was no argument about that. He talked about it quiet openly later and at dinner one night we had a long argument with Pat Griffith, who had already done his stint. George Abecassis was there too, and he said he had throughly enjoyed his time in the RAF, in spite of spending part of it as a prisoner of war. Peter thought the whole thing was a complete waste of time and asked Pat, 'What good did it ever do you?'" - p81
"Peter also learned to speak French fluently by engaging in intercourse - social and otherwise - with countless pretty Parisiennes!" - p81
"Peter acquired an Alsatian at some stage and if he intended it to be a guard dog it appeared to be an utter failure, welcoming anyone who came to the door with its wagging tail and slobbering chops. Then one day it mistakenly proved it's worth. Peter went out, leaving a plumber and an electrician to do a couple of jobs in the flat. Many hours later he returned, to find them still there and extremely agitated. The Alsatian, which had let them in without a murmur, had refused to let them out once they had finished their work." - p82
"As soon as we arrived Jean Lucas told Mike that someone had called him from England two or three times and left a number. It was the man from Reuters Press Agency and when Mike phoned he asked if he was going to England to see his father. Mike said, 'No. I am going to Le Mans. Why should I go to England?' Then the Reuters man told him that his father had crashed and was badly hurt. Naturally, Mike was in a terrible state, but I took him to Orly and the journalist Bernard Cahier managed to get him a seat on the last plane for London. While we were waiting Mike called the garage at Farnham and was told that his father was dead." - 87
"Romolo Tavoni was present in Ferrari's office one day when he (enzo) was discussing a recent race with Mike. 'Why did you have difficulty in that race?' Asked Ferrari, "My people tell me the car was fine.' 'The gearbox was no good,' said Mike, 'It was impossible for me to change gear properly'. Ferrari (who's cars were always 'fine') flew into a rage. 'You say my gearbox is no good? My gearbox is the best and if you say it is no good a second time, you can leave!' 'Goodbye!' Said Mike, and walked out. Ferrari quickly called him back and all was forgiven. He liked people to stand up for themselves." - p103
'Another who remembers his strong, anti-German feeling is Moi Kenward, one of his few, really serious girlfriends. 'We were upstairs at the 1955 Earls Court Motor Show when someone told Mike that Sir Jeremy Boles was buying a gullwing Mercedes.' She recalled. "He's not buying a fucking German car! Come on - let's get down there" He said, he grabbed me and we hurtled downstairs and there was Sir Jeremy writing out his cheque. Mike stormed onto the stand and said, "what the hell are you buying a bloody Kraut car for? Why don't you buy a Jaguar from me, you silly bastard?" - p103
"For several years, Mike had been troubled by severe pain in his kidneys, which frequently left him feeling very low indeed. He told one or two close friends that when he went to the toilet it was 'like peeing grit' and that often, having started, he couldn't finish the job. The resulting 'off days' did not go un-noticed in the racing world, but Mike kept very quiet about the reason behind them." - p104
"The treatment involved the insertion of a small tube into the abdomen and the restoration of the balance of the fluids going through his kidneys. Visitors such as Bill Cotton and Moi Kenward remember that Mike was "full of tubes" afterwards, and, as Moi recalls, painful though his condition was, he could still see the funny side of it. 'He had a tube up his old man, draining into a bottle, and he told me it was very painful "because every time you walk into the room I get an erection. It's agony!" 'One evening I was asked to wait outside for a few minutes while the doctors examined him. They cane out roaring with laughter and Mike said, "I told them what the problem was and they're going to take it out tomorrow." - p104
"Mike was never short of visitors and Moi was one of the most frequent. 'I had long hair in those days and Mike would spend hours brushing it while I sat beside his bed. That was the very gentle side of him few people saw.' Others went not to have their hair brushed, but to have their whistles whetted, although not when Mike's mother was present. Malcolm Richardson and some friends turned up one day and when Mrs H discovered that their raincoat pockets were crammed with bottles of beer she threw them all out." - p104
"The first thing I saw Mike Hawthorn running around, white-faced and absolutely distracted. He was alone, running through the caravans behind the pits. Just running around. He must have just got out of his car" - p127
"As this was sinking in, a Jaguar mechanic appeared and asked Lance to go to the Jaguar pits and talk to Mike 'he's having hysterics and says it's all his fault...he says He's never going to race again' Macklin refused 'because he bloody nearly killed me too, and, I'm not feeling all that happy towards him'. A few minutes later, Mike appeared 'He was tottering. He stood behind me at the table, put his arms on my shoulder and said, 'Oh my God, Lance. I'm terribly sorry. I bloody near killed you and I killed all those people. I'm really sorry. I'm certainly never going to race again.' My anger evaporated, Macklin recalled" - p127
'Rob's memory of Mike's arrival is still vivid. "His first words - and I'll never forget them - were, 'it's all my fault! It was all my fault! I wanted to get into the pits before Fangio came by"' - p127
'Mike returned to England and appeared on the BBC-TV to talk about the disaster with Rudolf Uhlenhaut of Daimler-Benz. The telecast was an unhappy experience for Mike, as Moi Kenward recalls. "He had to face the music. He came round to my flat afterwards and he really was in a terrible state - he was in floods of tears"' - p131
'The weather was fantastic for Aintree, sunny and extremely hot, and I began to feel the effects, so In handed the car over to Castellotti.' wrote Mike later. This is certainly true, but as is often the case with Mike's books, it is not the whole truth, which was that Mike was suffering from a giant hangover! The previous evening he had had a blazing row with Moi Kenward, after which he became drunk as a skunk, leaving him in no state to do any serious motor racing the next day. The row continued after the race, with the result that a furious Moi went out to dinner that evening with Eugenio Castellotti. This did nothing to ease a very jealous Mike's hangover.' - p132
'Recollections of what followed are obscured by a heavy, alcoholic haze, but at some point in the proceedings, Peter Collins, Roy Salvadori and Pat Griffith were seen rolling Rob Walker down 46th Street in a large, wire litter basket' - p138
'About an hour out of Paris we were stopped by a very nice gendarme, who asked us to please drive slowly through his village. Peter pretended he couldn't speak French and the guy was very polite and let us go, but as we drove away, Peter said' "Tous les flics mangent le merde!" (All cops eat shit) when we got to the next village I thought we were going right into clink! Our nice gendarme had obviously phoned ahead and his pals were waiting for us. Peter thought it was a hellava lot of fun - until they hit us for abour fifty bucks. He was a bit subdued for a while after that'- p139
'We(Pat Griffith & Peter Collins) slid off the road and down the mountainside for about fifty feet and I ended up in Peter's lap. "Pat" he said, "I never knew you cared!"' - p140
"Ol' Pete had a very genteel streak in him and would go out of his way to be friends with the new members of the team" - p141
"John Wyer had given us strict instructions not to dice with each other and whatever order we were in at the end of the first lap was to be maintained. I made a better start than Pete, but within a couple of laps he was right with me and we had a most God-almighty dice. All round the circuit we were passing and repassing, pushing each other through the corners and having a wonderful time. Peter was laughing and waving at me, (giving me two fingers, that is!) and we were really going terribly quickly but we always got our positions right as we went past the pits, with me in the lead.Then I lost it coming out of Arnage. I spun right round, Peter went past and from then on he had every right to stay in front. He could have told John that I had spun and said, 'What was I supposed to do wait for him?' But that's exactly what he did he gave me two fingers and let me go by again. He never mentioned it to John and neither did I, because that was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid my spin could have involved Pete and we could have lost both cars. That was how nice a guy he was." - p152
"Peter took his Governorship very seriously and visited us several times that year. He liked to wander round the classrooms, chat to the kids and look at their work. They were all between the ages of five and thirteen, so although they knew he was famous they didn't really know much about him, but he was so charming and interested in what they were doing that they really warmed to him and looked forward to his visits. And he so obviously enjoyed coming down and being associated with something so different from his normal life. Unfortunately for us, he joined Ferrari in 1956 and from then in we saw very little of him, as he was seldom in this country, but he remained a great of friend of the school and myself. I often sought his advice, as he was a well-travelled young man and very intelligent, helpful and loyal." - p153
"Being a great party man and a wow with the ladies, Peter could very easily have made Brooks feel uncomfortable. Instead, he took a rather surprising attitude towards him. In those days we always had a small party the night before a race and when, on the evening before the Nine Hours, Tony said he was going to have an early night, much to everyone's surprise Peter said, 'Right - my man Brooks is going to bed and so am I.' He sunk his last half pint and off he went. That sort of thing happened on more than one occasion" - p155
"He was utterly charming and when I told him that I had to get back to work he said, 'Come back tomorrow, it won't be so busy then.' So I did and despite our age difference and the fact that he was a famous racing driver and I was a trainee salesman we struck up a good - friendship. That year many races were cancelled after Le Mans, so he was often at home and we used to meet frequently, until at the end of the year I had to go off and do my National Service. On my last night at The Black Boy (a pub) he bought me one hundred Players cigarettes and said, 'Keep in touch and come and see me at the meetings when you can get away.' Luckily, I was able to get to quite a few in the next two years and whenever he was there he would invite me into his crowd saying, 'This is my young mate, Trevor, from Kidderminster. He's in the RAF, poor bastard!' Peter never changed" - p161
"Although there was a nine-year age difference, Peter and I were always very close. He was a really terrific older brother and such a happy person, always laughing and joking. Needless to say, I hero-worshipped him and, with Mummy and Daddy, took a great interest in his career which seemed to dominate our conversations at every meal. He still didn't get on with Daddy and Wherever he came home I would say, 'How long are you here for?' and he'd say, 'It depends on the old man.' Ifthings went wrong Peter would high-tail it back to London and stay with Vick Vickers at the Washington Hotel." P161-162
"I remember once when Stirling stayed the night he left his shoes outside his bedroom door to be cleaned! My schoolfriend Sue Pridmore was staying with me and we were so incensed we filled them with sand" - Peter's sister, p162
"I was an unwilling boarder at Malvern Girls College. It was a very strict school and we were not allowed out-even with family - unless prior permission had been granted. This didn't bother Peter, who arrived one day with Stirling, sweeping to a halt in front of the school with a great swirl and flourish of loose chippings on the drive. When I told my housemistress that my brother and Stirling Moss had come to take me home for lunch she immediately phoned my parents, not knowing Peter or Stirling from Adam. "Is this young man your son?" she demanded. 'And circle who is this Stirling Moss person? Are we to release your daughter in their care?" "Mummy managed to convince her that Peter was indeed my brother and as we left he took my school hat inter off my head and in front of this very self-important pudding, plonked it on his own. Her face as we walked out.......As soon as we had gone she called my mother Berm again and said, 'I don't want those two young men to bring your daughter back, I don't like the way they behave at all." - p162
"Mike and Duncan soon found ways of keeping themselves amused.
One day they were in the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel when a member of a visiting ladies convention saw a man in a blazer and decided that he must be an attendant. "Boy! Where's our convention?" she demanded.
The 'boy' was Mike, and he was naturally unable to answer her question, whereupon the lady was very rude to him. Instead of telling her 'where to go', Mike told her where to go. "Try the eleventh floor, M'am" he said politely.
It then dawned upon the Englishmen that they had a good thing going here and in the following fifteen minutes they directed numerous ladies to the eleventh floor before taking the lift there themselves for a look- see. To their huge delight they found that things were going magnificently awry, for their ladies had walked into the middle of an all-male convention. Not all the ladies were there to attend the same ladies' convention, so the confusion was total. After a gleeful appraisal of their handiwork, Mike and Duncan walked innocently away." - p164
"Watching the race from above the BRM pits was his old schoolfriend, Bill Cotton who saw - and heard - Mike's reaction. "He threw his crash-hat across the pit and said, 'If I want to commit suicide I'll do it without your help, thank you very much indeed!' He then stormed out and went straight to the beer tent in the Paddock, where I joined him. 'That whole fucking car is an absolute time bomb!' He told me. He was livid!"" - p171
"The tyre problem clearly played on Peter's mind, as Ken Gregory remembers - "Peter and I shared a room at the Palace Hotel in Milan and two or three times during the night before the race I was woken up by his voice crying out 'The tyres! The tyres!!' As he thrashed unhappily through a nightmare. Just what mental torture he was going through at the time, I don't know, neither could he remember in the morning but, like the test of the Ferrari drivers, he was obviously terribly worried about tyre position'" - p194
'At the end of the 34th lap there occurred the most stirring things in this most exciting of races for many, many years. Peter Collins, lying in third place, came into the pits for a tyre inspection, and voluntarily handed over his car to Fangio - thereby giving up any possible chance he might have had of winning the World Championship. It was a truly generous action, and one which gives the lie to the cut-throat tactics which one or two people have alleged against motor racing.' - p195
'Despite this, Juan Manuel Fangio won the World Championship for the fourth time, thanks to the generosity of Peter Collins. "I was astonished when he handed over the car," he said afterwards, "but I did not stop to argue. In fact, Peter pushed me into it, although he still had a great chance to win the Championship himself at the time. I know how much that renunciation meant to him. This is one of the things that make a friendship really great. I do not know whether in his place I would have done the same. Collins was the gentleman driver.' - p195
'"It's too early for me to become World Champion - I'm too young." Was the 25 year old's reply, "I want to to on enjoying life and racing, but if I become World Champion now I would have all the obligations that come with it. And Fangio deserves it anyway!" - p195
'He told me, "If I'm good enough I'm automatically going to be number one, so I want to learn to be good enough," which I thought was a beautiful attitude," - p195
"Peter just loved to race," says Ken Gregory, "He did it for the sheer enjoyment it brought him. I don't think he was too concerned with money because he wasn't a big spender - he was very casual with it, really and didn't need an awful lot. He was a very popular character and was always being invited here, there and everywhere. He wasn't extravagant, he wasn't flash with cars - he had a Ford Zephyr and then I arranged for him to have one of the new Sunbeam Rapiers - and he didn't have a palatial residence anywhere. Money was not high on his list of priorities," - p197
'Peter....interestingly, he was certainly the most friendly of the three and probably the best personality, there was an absolute warmth just emanating from him. At the same time he was absolutely impossible where appointments were concerned. If you made a commitment for him you had your heart in your mouth, not knowing whether he would turn up - and frequently he didn't. On the other hand, he also had the ability to smooth ruffled feathers immediately with his charm, which was overwhelming.' - p198
"I was in the foyer, talking with Peter, who had just come back from Modena." Recalls Sir David, "Mike Hawthorn appeared with a beautiful girl on his arm and Peter rushed up to him and said, 'Mike - you must get on a plane and go to Modena. Ferrari wants another driver and you can be the captain of the team." Quite why Peter should offer Mike the 'captiancy' when he had already been given the position is hard to fathom. Nonetheless, Mike was on the phone to Modena the next day and on the following Monday he flew to Italt to talk with Enzo Ferrari. That brief conversation in the foyer of the Leicester Square Theater proved to be the starting point for the great friendship that grew up between Mike and Peter, a friendship that was soon to be adorned with the phrase, 'Mon Ami Mate." - p198
"It was while making his way there with Umberto Maglioli that he heard of his father's fatal car crash. Two days later, Basil Cardew ran a front-page story in The Daily Express revealing how - just hours before the crash - Leslie Hawthorn had spoken to him in the Goodwood Paddock and blamed himself for all of Mike's National Service troubles. "Will you help me about Mike?" He asked Cardew. "The boy is miserable and we have got to settle this call up trouble. Will you write an article in The Daily Express and let people know the whole story?" "Blame me for the mess," he went on, "I advised Mike all along from the time he was sixteen. The boy was always keen to do his National Service, but I have spent my life in racing - motorcycles in the TT and sports car races - and I thought his future lay in that direction, rather than driving lorries for the Army." - p203
"He used to come and stay with my family at Biella frequently," adds Maglioli, "He didn't go home to England because he didn't want to have to give up racing for two years and join the Army. He didn't like living on his own in Modena, so he came to us," - p204
"Mike put up with Italy because he had to in order to avoid the call up, but he badly missed his parents, the Members and the pubs. On his rare visits home he would make a bee-line for the Duke of Cambridge. "There's nothing like the green grass of England!" He would exclaim to Charlie and Marjorie Bishop as he supped his first of many pints for months, and for which he seldom, if ever, paid." - p204
"Peter's lifestyle and attitudes were somewhere in between those of Moss and Hawthorn. He loved parties and girls but was no great drinker, preferring wine with a meal (like moss) rather than downing great quantities of beer in a pub (like hawthorn)" - p211
"Mike was never his teammate (fangio) and they had no common language, so their friendship was very much at arms length, but the Englishman clearly thought the world of him and they enjoyed some unforgettable duels. Peter, on the other hand, had established a very strong rapport with him during their season together at Ferrari in 1956. By that time Fangio had a smattering of French (which Peter spoke fluently) and Peter was quick to learn some Spanish, so a genuine friendship grew up between them, one that was set in stone by the younger man's selfless behaviour in the Italian GP. And, along with everyone else, Juan Manuel came under the Collins spell and held him isn the same sort of paternal esteem as did Enzo Ferrari," - p216
"Stirling Moss had been writing for us (writing car reviews for the Sunday express) and when he left it was Harold Keeble, the Editor, who suggested that Mike should take his place. Mike agreed, with one stipulation - he had to have a slap-up meal with every test. I think his fee was £20 a week - a pittance! We used to pick up the test car at the Express building in Fleet Street and drive to Silverstone, occasionally putting in the report how long it took us to get there - fifty-seven minutes or thereabouts in a quick motor. Often we'd stop for lunch first, usually at The Bell at Aston Clinton, which was a very fine place to eat. We always started with oysters, caviar or snails (Mike was passionately fond of snails - the car used to reek of garlic afterwards), and we always had a bottle of Clos de Vougeot, a very fine wine. After lunch we'd go to Silverstone and belt the car round and then, as often as not we would sit and watch the Circuit Manager, Jimmy Brown, do a few laps in it. In the spring, Geoff Duke would often be there testing his motorbike and sometimes Mike would have a go. He would go crazy about motorbikes and would belt round with no leathers or helmet - no protection at all! In the summer, when we got bored with Silverstone we'd go to the seaside - always somewhere with a Big Dipper. Mike loved Big Dippers. He never knew what was in his Road Tests until he read the article, and next time we'd meet he'd say, 'That was a bloody silly thing I wrote last week, wasn't it?'" - p222
"Mike Hawthorn accompanied his great friend's beautiful, grieving widow back to England. At London Airport he bravely faced the Press and TV cameras and gave his eye-witness account of the crash, the tears running down his face, as The Daily Mail recorded.
"There was a little dip." he said, "We went into that. There was a sharp, short right-hand bend and Peter took it a little too wide and didn't turn into it soon enough. His car hit the bank and turned over. I don't know how fast he was driving. There was just a bunch of us. Tony Brooks was in front. Peter was second. As a driver he was the best, definitely. As a friend....he was my best friend, and that is it."
The Daily Express quoted him as saying, 'Pete and I raced as a team..... We were both chasing Tony Brooks, the eventual winner, and that was fair enough. The idea was to catch Tony and try to blow him up. But we were not racing against each other. I was just waiting behind Pete as he touched the bank."
'Hawthorn could hardly speak. He was asked, "Will you race again?" "If Ferrari wants me to I will. I am due to race in the Portuguese GP in two weeks, but personally I am not very interested." 'Massive, fair-haired Hawthorn crammed a handkerchief against his mouth. "Damn silly of me." he said, "So sorry...."
'He walked blindly along the corridor, took Louise Collins by the hand and drove away.'" - p227-228
Mike described the first part of the trip briefly in Challenge Me The Race:
We landed at Toussus le Noble, got a taxi into Paris, which cost about £3, and stayed the night with some friends. It was a late night as sometimes happens in Paris and we were late getting up next morning."
Well, yes and then again, no; for while this approximates the truth is far from being the whole truth, which is much more entertaining. Neil McNab spills the beans:
"Before we left I was severely lectured by Raymond Mays to the effect that on no account was Mike to be let loose in Paris, as BRM wanted him to be in condition to drive at Monaco. We landed near Paris and grabbed a cab to Fred Payne's bar in Rue Pigalle, where we immediately got stuck into champagne. "In those days, half-bottles of bubbly were about ten bob each and we got through an astronomical number. Fred's place was next to a brothel and there were always several tarts in the bar, having a drink and looking for business. The more we drank the better-looking they became and we got very pissed, eventually going next door with two of the girls, who were by now looking very good indeed. "A while later, Mike suddenly appeared in my room stark naked and said, 'I'm getting bloody bored with mine. Why don't we go and see what else is going on? We might find some better-looking girls than ours.' "We were both very big blokes and pretty fit, so we went into some of the other rooms to see if we were missing out on any good crumpet. We'd just lift the bloke off his tart, have a good look at her and drop him back on again. What a furore that started!" A furore, indeed. The brothel was full of Algerian workers out for a night of horizontal dancing and they were not amused at having their coitus so rudely interruptus by the two giant Englishmen, who were naked, rampant and not a pretty sight! There was, as the saying goes, uproar in the house, and Hawthorn and McNab were lucky to escape with all their bits and pieces still attached." - p229
"Because Rouen was a road circuit, practice started at 6 am and was over by 8, leaving the drivers with the rest of the day free. I had joined up with Peter and Louise and Mike suggested that we all go to Deauville, so we piled into the Gull, had a delicious lunch, wandered about a bit and then flew back. As we came towards Rouen Mike was chatting away merrily and I thought we were approaching the runway rather too fast for comfort. At the very last minute he suddenly zoomed up and away and did another circuit, roaring with laughter. 'This air speed indicator of mine is absolutely up the creek!' he said, 'I must try again." - p230
"Terrifying!" he recalls emphatically. "He (Mike) wasn't the greatest map reader in the world and he used to follow railway lines to where we were going. Once we set off for Le Mans and when we got to Salisbury he realised we'd followed the wrong line out of Woking! He was definitely a 'seat of the pants' flyer. He was a good pilot in that he had a feeling for the thing, but there was very little theory involved in his navigation."
When Mike joined Peter at Ferrari in 1957 he asked Ken Gregory to look after some of his racing interests where they blended with Peter's. When they were in England, the Scuderia would cable Ken's office and ask for one or both to go to Modena for some testing. Ron Smith recalls:
"I'd phone Pete in Kidderminster to tell him that he was wanted in Modena on Tuesday, or whenever, but he'd say,
'Oh, we're going to be on the boat in Dartmouth. Give is Mike a ring.'
"So I'd call Mike in Farnham and he would say, 'What's Pete doing?'
""He's on his boat.'"
"Well, what's Taffy doing?"
"I don't know what von Trips is doing. Ferrari has asked for one of you.'
"Eventually, one or both of them would set off in
Mike's Vega Gull and, as likely as not, after a couple of hours I'd get a phone call.
""We've had to jack it in at Lydd, Ron. Can you get us on a flight from London?'"
So much for navigation. And Neil McNab says that - having retired from the circuits, Mike was planning to take up air racing. The mind boggles........." - p230
"During 1956, Peter's personal transport was a Ford Zephyr, which sported a bumper sticker proclaiming, I LIKE GIRLS!". If nothing else, this should ensure Mr Collins a place in the Guinness Book of Records, under the heading, 'Great Understatements of our Time.'
Peter and Mike simply loved the company of ladies and pursued them constantly, with vigour and lustful intent. Both men had a great deal going for them in this endeavour, being undeniably handsome, charming and charismatic to a degree. Mike was 6ft 2ins, so blond he was almost albino and possessed of a 'bowl-`em-into- bed' smile which seems to have been inherited by Jack Nicholson. For his part Peter was slight, straw-blond and so full of devastating charm it should have been illegal. Just as important is the fact that they were blessed with the gift of laughter and doubtless tumbled many a lass, giggling, between the sheets" - p241
"Before he joined Ferrari, Mike shared a flat in Chelsea with his newly-married friends, Pat and Jill Hume- Kendall. "He had a room which must have been a larder, or something, originally, because it had no widow." recalls Jill. "He called it Little Hell and it saw a lot of action - he used to bring different girls back there all the time. When we moved to Neville Terrace in the summer of 1953, Mike would often stay with us when he was in England and by then our son had arrived. I was always trying to keep his hands off my au pairs - that was my prime occupation when he was around! He also had affairs with most of my friends, the unmarried ones anyway." - p241/242
"It was at the end of that year the Mike met the first of his serious girlfriends, Moi Kenward. "I was working for Michelin Tyres at the Earls Court Motor Show and one of the reps who knew Mike brought him onto the stand for a drink. I'd just finished my stint and was about to leave when he said, 'Where are you going?' I told him I was going home and he said, 'No, you're not you're going to come and have a drink with me.' No invitation - just an order! "We went back to my flat, where I changed. He made no attempt at a pass and then we went to a sherry bar near the Michelin Building in the Fulham Road. It was all terribly innocent and I didn't go to bed with Mike for a very long time, which surprised him. Eventually, he took me to see a French film, The Ripening Seed', which did the trick and he always used to tease me afterwards. I had to take you to a sexy French film before you would go to bed with me!' I remember nothing about the film, but I do remember that Mike bought tickets for the cheapest seats in the house and immediately marched me up to the most expensive ones! That was so typical of him." - p241
"At the end of 1954 he won the Spanish Grand Prix at Barcelona. I was terribly broke and living in a little flat in Earls Court. On the evening of the race I listened to the radio on the news and heard that he had won. I was so excited, but then I thought, I wonder if I heard correctly?' so I had to wait for the next news bulletin. My radio was plugged into the mains as were the lights and I had to put shillings in the meter. I was so short of money I turned out the lights and read a book by candle- light, to make sure I had enough electricity for the radio.
"Gregor Grant of Autosport told me that Mike didn't go to the post-race party as he was so anxious to fly back to me. He brought me a beautiful belt, which I still have. He was extremely generous in this respect and was always bringing me scarves and belts and things and later when he went off to a race he would as likely as not put £100 in my bank account before he left, which was a ■lot of money in those days."- p241
"On the other hand, he was incredibly jealous. When he was in hospital with his kidney problems I visited him constantly and whenever I popped out to the loo he would empty my handbag onto his bed and go through the contents. He had a key to my flat and I'd often find that he'd been through my chest of drawers and everything to see if I'd had a letter from some other man. He often said, 'If anyone else goes out with you I'll bloody well kill him!' and we weren't even engaged! And he would never introduce me to any of the other drivers because he was so jealous" - p242
"Robert Glenton (Mike's friend and ghost-writer on The Sunday Express) recalls that he was completely smitten by Cherry. "He seemed to take girls or leave them until she came along, but he lost a lot of sleep over her - he really became moon-struck. Cherry was Mike's great love. He really wanted to marry her and when Mike wanted something really badly he went at it like a bull at a gate. We were in the Steering Wheel Club at about 10 o'clock one night when he heard that she was going out with Peter Twiss, the test pilot whom she later married. I dropped him off at her mews flat and according to Cherry he broke the door down and they had a stand-up row. Mike was impossible and I can't imagine any girl being married to him - he was so overwhelming. When he fell in love he wore his heart on his sleeve." - p244
"He certainly had a million girlfriends when I knew him." says Cherry. "He was not what I would call the world's most faithful boyfriend and that must be putting it mildly. It was pretty heartbreaking at the time. Yet he was very puritan in many ways; he was a good, middle- class boy and he didn't really like too much hanky- panky. I remember him telling me that he and Fon de Portago once went out with two beautiful girls and just when Mike was wondering which of them was going to be his for the night, Fon announced that they were not going to participate, they were going to watch! Michael was not at all impressed.
"All men who have a lot of women are, basically, men's men. Michael loved his men friends and he loved going to the pub with the boys. He liked women for the other things they could give him, but he loved the company of men. He tried to be very sophisticated about women and was quite incapable of being faithful to any one of them. Even so, I am very pleased that I had my relationship with him when I did, when I was young and impressionable. I knew him at the height of his glamour and that was lovely. He was a golden star of a man." - p244
"The young drivers in question were, of course, Peter and Lance Macklin and HWM's Chief Mechanic, Frank Webb, recalls that, "Their first aim at every practice was to compare notes after a few laps - not on how the car was going, but what the birds were like on every corner. Once they had formed some sort of consensus, the chosen ones were in our pit within a quarter of an hour and from then on we didn't see a lot of them......." - p244
"Roy Salvadori, however, is more generous in his appraisal of Peter's lady friends. "They weren't terrible looking at all. He had one or two crackers, but more often than not they were unusual - attractive in a weird way. And it was never the same girl twiice running. He was a very attractive and popular guy - it wasn't that difficult to date Peter!" - p245
"I saw Collins with the girl in the passenger seat! I got him in the morning and said, 'How did you get on?' ""Fine,' he said. 'she was inexperienced but enthusiastic. We started off on the bed and finished up in the wardrobe!'- p245
"Tears don't come easy to Eleanora Herrera, 21 year- old heiress and member of one of Argentina's grandest families.' 'wrote Peter Hahn in The Daily Mirror 'But her eyes were brimming when she told me: PETER COLLINS JILTED ME." - p245
"Immediately after the wedding, Peter denied that he had jilted Eleanora, as she had claimed. 'The report is ridiculous.' he told the Daily Sketch. 'I was engaged to her but we decided to break it off. Our engagement was never made public. Neither was the break-off. I couldn't be more sorry Eleanora is so distressed, but its entirely wrong to say I jilted her. I can't believe she misunderstood me' - p246
"Mike's inability to pass by a pretty face got him into trouble on occasion, too. His friend Nick Syrett recalls one such incident.
"We'd been to the presentation of the Ferodo Trophy at the Dorchester Hotel in Mayfair and had arranged to meet a couple of girls at The Steering Wheel Club at 8 o'clock. By the time we left the Dorchester it was 8-50, so we set off down Park Lane on foot and where the Hilton Hotel now stands was then a gathering place for ladies of the night. We noticed one in particular who was absolutely astonishingly beautiful and as we walked by she said, 'Hallo darling - want to come home with me?'
"This, of course, was irresistible to Mike! I tried to get him to move on as we were now almost an hour late for our date, but he was having none of it and protracted negotiations began. The girl wanted £4 (then the going rate) for her services and Mike - tight-fisted as ever - tried to beat her down to £3. After a lot of haggling the deal was abandoned and we finally made it to The Steering Wheel, where our ladies gave us a pretty frosty reception, having been kept waiting so long.
"We had a couple of drinks and then walked back to the Dorchester to collect the car and go on somewhere for dinner. The aforementioned lady was still on her patch and as we approached she looked Mike's girl up and down, then looked at Mike and said, 'See what you get for three quid!'
"The temperature between Mike and his girlfriend was already pretty chilly, due to our lateness and it now became very frosty indeed as she demanded to know the meaning of that remark. Mike tried to laugh it off, but by the time we reached the restaurant the temperature was well below zero and I insisted that our table for four was changed to two tables for two! Throughout the meal Mike was making frantic 'help me!' signs, but I just let him get on with it. My date and I eventually joined him and his friend for coffee." - p246/247
"Mike's last serious romance began in the Spring of 1958, when he started going out with 21 year-old Jean Howarth, one of London's top fashion models who worked for Hardy Aimes and John Cavanagh, among others. "I'd known Mike on and off for a while," she recalls, "because I had a boyfriend who lived in Farnham and we used to meet Mike in the local pubs. Our relationship started to get serious at the Goodwood Easter Monday meeting. "Behind the scenes with his mask off he was a very nice, quiet, loving homebody. He wanted to marry, settle down and have a home and children of his own and he was emphatic that he was not going to be a married racing driver - that would not be fair on the girl, who was going to be me. When he wasn't racing he liked to get up late on a Sunday morning, go to the pub for a few drinks and then come home for Sunday lunch. Afterwards he would put his feet up in front of the fire and watch the telly." - p247
"He was a very sensitive man and could cry easily. He was shattered by Peter's death and that made up his mind to retire at the end of the season. But smaller tragedies upset him too. He had a boxer dog called Grogger and one day during the 1958 Motor Show (or just after) we were having a drink with some friends at the Barley Mow at Tilford when Mike gave someone a run in his Ferrari demonstrator, leaving Grogger with us. When he heard the car coming back, Grogger ran in front of it and was killed. Mike was very upset about that and cried a lot." - p247
"Mike had proposed to Jean while they were driving from London to Farnham in his Jaguar.
"He asked me to marry him and, of course, I said, 'Yes!' says Jean, remembering that joyful moment with absolute clarity. With equal clarity she recalls how Mike - always the great romantic - then lobbed a king-sized rock into his new fiancée's placid pool of happiness.
"Now tell me." he said, "Do you have any skeletons in your cupboard?"
"No." said Jean, puzzled, "Why?"
"Because I do. I have a four year-old son in France." - p247
"He (Mike's son Arnaud) had fleeting memories of meeting him (Mike) on a couple of occasions, and of meeting Mrs Hawthorn not long after Mike was killed - but her interest in her grandson did not, it seems, last very long. Arnaud had not heard from her since he was a small boy and did not know if she was still alive. I was able to tell him that she was, but would not talk to anyone about her son, let alone her grandson." - p252
"It must be said that the fact that the Tennis Club was (and still is) private does not mean that Mike would have needed an invitation. He might have required one, but needed it....? No. As his old drinking buddies, the Members, well recall, Mike was adept at inviting himself to parties. If he saw some pretty girls through a window and heard the sound of clinking glasses, he was quite capable of walking in off the street and joining in the fun, his tremendous charm and that dazzling smile obviating the need for the formality of an invitation. It is quite possible that he was invited to the soirée, but he was for a few more days, anyway - completely unknown to the average citizen of Reims and so hardly likely to be there as a celebrity." - p253
"Jacqueline was enormously attracted to Mike at once, and vice versa." says Monique. "They spent every single moment together and Mike invited us both to be his guests at the race on the following Sunday. We told him that we were already going, with our father, so we agreed to meet afterwards. Of course, we had not the slightest idea that he would win. When we got home from the Tennis Club Jacqueline was terribly excited about Mike and talked about him non-stop." - p253
"By this time Cherry Huggins was Mike's girlfriend. She had recently learned to fly and Mike asked her to bring his Fairchild Argus over to Reims for him, which she did. 'I remember that there was a lady about who had Mike's son.' She recalls, 'I thought it was very irresponsible of him and I gave him hell about it. By that time he certainly had some pretty strong paternal feelings towards the boy,'" - p255
"From 1956 he visited Jacqueline every time he raced in Reims. Arnaud remembers seeing his father briefly in his aunt's house behind the cathedral. "My mother wanted me to be there to say hallo, but I refused at first as I was busy playing with my toy cars. I also recall meeting Mike at the circuit behind the pits, probably in 1958, and my mother told me that we went to England once to see him. We had a ride in his Jaguar, but I don't remember anything about that." - p255
"Stirling Moss suggested that as he was going to Miami, he should look up an actress of his acquaintance while he was there.
"I had met Louise with Donald Healey during the Nassau Speed Week the previous December." says Stirling. "She was a very beautiful girl and great fun, so I told Peter he could find her at the Playhouse."
On Monday, February 4, Peter duly called Louise and arranged to meet her that evening in the bar after the show. Little did Stirling know that he was playing Cupid in what was about to become a great romance! Naturally, Louise recalls that meeting as if it were yesterday.
"When I walked into the bar, Peter was already there and talking to Bob Said, whom we both knew. He obviously thought that Peter and I knew each other, too, because no introductions were made. We had a drink and then Bob suggested we all go out to dinner, but Peter said he couldn't leave yet, as he had to meet someone. I found this puzzling, as I thought he was there to meet me. 'Who are you meeting?' I asked.
""Louise King.' he said.
""You're crazy - I'm Louise!'
'We got over that and went out to dinner.' The following Wednesday afternoon I went to the motel where Peter and Mastern were staying and we were all sitting by the pool - Masten on my right and Peter on my left - when Peter asked me to marry him! I said 'yes' and we made plans in a couple of minutes of whispering and Masten never heard a thing.'- p260
"On Tuesday morning, Masten was in Kansas driving to his bowling alley, when he heard on the car radio that Peter Collins had got married. He thought that was a hoot - Peter had been out with me the previous week and now had obviously married someone else. He was furious when he learned that he'd been right there when Peter proposed" - p261
"As events turned out," says Gregory, "he was absolutely right. The marriage was a very good thing and Louise was a great influence on him in many ways. She was of a similar temperament and personality, free as the wind, full of fun and a very good-looking girl! I think she had a sensuous aura which attracted Peter - she was a very compatible and equal force and together they formed an even better force." - p261
"Their marriage in Miami was a joyous occasion, but for Peter it was marred by the stoney silence that emanated from his home. It was very clear from that dreadful transatlantic phone call that his parents (and his father in particular) were very unhappy about the union, but naturally, Peter had hoped for a congratulatory cable, at least, on his big day, It never came" - p264
"For the first time in my life I am able to realize what it means to really have someone for whom I have so much love, respect and tenderness that I'm afraid of things that may in any way spoil the happiness that we have found together.
I know that when you both meet Louise you will realize that she is not only a wonderful person but also so obviously right for me and I for her and I am sure you will both come to love her, not as much as I do because I don't think that is possible, but as a new and very fine member of our family." (Peter Collins letter to his parents) - p264
"I would like to say now that there is nothing more in this world that I would have rather had at our wedding than you and Mum but, well, I only wish I could put into words how much Louise means to me and now, after one week together even more so, if that is possible." (Peter Collins letter to his parents) - p265
'Just two months later, Stirling announced his engagement to Katie Molson, saying, "Of course I realise this is a foolish time to get engaged because Peter Collins has just got married and released a flood of crumpet onto the market and now I can't do anything about it!" - p266
'The Caribbean island was in ferment, as Fidel Castro was leading his rebel forces against the government and causing all kinds of trouble, so the Principal drivers Fangio, Moss, Collins and Castellotti - were all assigned heavily-armed bodyguards, Castellotti being informed that they were to keep the women away.... Peter and Stirling shared the attentions of an amiable giant named Chico, whose English was as fluent as their Spanish. On their first night in Havana, they managed to give him the slip and went to a boxing match. They had just taken their seats when a number of Castro's friends began firing their guns into the roof and in the ensuing panic several people were crushed to death. Moss and Collins made it to safety and were glad of Chico's company from then on' - p266
'At that time Tavoni had been working as Enzo Ferrari's personal assistant for seven years, so Ferrari had absolute trust in him and this more than made up for his complete lack of any racing experience.
He also lacked a proper knowledge of English, which was, of course, the lingua franca of motor racing. Mike Hawthorn welcomed his old friend to Sebring and decided to help him out.
"Mike said, 'Romolo, you must learn English with me, listen - Rosie, Posie, Pinkey, Pink, Shitty, Farty, Poopie, Stink. Repeat, Romolo!'
"So I repeat and he said, 'Good, now you explain to this gentleman's wife.' But Phil Hill was there and he said, 'No, no, stop Ferma!' It was the wife of Mr Alec Ullmann, the head man of Sebring!"
Just one of Hawthorn's little jokes......' - p267
'Louise remembers that dinner for a remark de Portago made at one point. With hindsight, he might
have been dictating his own epitaph. "Life has to be lived to the full." said the Spanish nobleman, who always did just that. "It is better to be wholly alive for thirty years than half-dead for sixty." The next day he was 'wholly dead' at thirty-one.
"Portago was a fascinating character," says Louise, "but I didn't find him attractive in the way that I found Taffy von Trips, Olivier Gendebien and Jo Bonnier attractive. He always seemed rough and unkempt to me - scruffy. Yet he attracted all these unbelievably beautiful women available women and lots of supposedly unavailable women too! He really was extraordinary in the way he got in and out of bed with an amazing number of females without others knowing about it. That man was so busy with women I don't know how he had any time for racing." - p271
"Phil Hill recalls that while Mike called Peter 'Mon ami mate' almost as a matter of course, Peter used it less frequently. At one time on the Saturday afternoon, Mike surely must have said the words with a hard edge to his voice, for Peter crashed his car!
Mike had been dissatisfied with the steering of his Ferrari on the Friday, so it was changed overnight. On the Saturday afternoon he found that the change made a marked improvement, but he was still not happy with the car's performance and asked Peter to have a go in it. 'Mon ami mate' promptly stuffed it at the chicane, piling head-on into a bollard on the very edge of the harbour and coming within an ace of emulating Alberto Ascari's diving exhibition of 1955. Mike was distinctly unchuffed at this, because that was his special, long chassis car and, clearly, it could not be repaired in time for the race.' - p278
'Wolfgang Graf Berghe von Trips was a handsome, charming, 29 year-old Count whose film biography - had it ever been made - could only have starred Robert Redford, who bears him a striking likeness. He started racing in 1950 and proved to be very fast, but wild, having numerous accidents. After a spell with the Mercedes sports car team in 1955, he drove for Porsche for most of '56 until invited to share a Ferrari with Peter Collins in the Swedish sports car GP at the end of the year. The two quickly became great friends and it was Peter who gave von Trips the nickname Taffy, "Because you look like a Taffy.' What the young German made of this irrefutable Collins logic is not on record, but the name stuck and Taffy von Trips went on to become a very popular member of the Ferrari team.
He lived with his parents in their ancestral home Wasserschloss Burg Hemmersbach in Horrem, not far from Cologne and, as he was back on his feet after his Nürburgring crash, Peter and Louise invited him out.
"He joined us for dinner with a beard!! Which makes him look about a million years old.'wrote Louise to her parents. 'He is feeling quite well but has to wear a big plaster cast all round his middle for about two more weeks. The beard came from lying flat on his back for a while and everyone tells him how terrible it is so it shall probably be removed shortly.
After dinner he took us to his house and showed us the films he took on his trip to the Americas this winter. We spent the night there and the next day met the family and took a look around the house and grounds. His home is a huge affair surrounded by two moats and parks, gardens, etc. During the war all the furniture and everything of value was stolen so its still in rather sad shape, but they've fixed up part of it to make it quite pleasant. Now we're at the Nürburgring again and getting back to our "routine weekends"!!' - p293
"He loved cottage pie, mince-meat, rissoles - never anything fancy," said Marge. "He used to sit with his knife and fork in his hands and say, 'flying start, Marge' and I would just put the plate in front of him and off he would go. Whenever he went abroad to race he would say, 'I'll be back on Monday for roast beef and Yorkshire pud.' He hated to be away for long' On rare weekends when he wasn't racing he would get together with Nick Syrett, who lived locally (and who would become Secretary of the British Racing and Sports Car Club in 1958). 'We had a Saturday routine." says Nick. "I would pick him up at the garage, we'd go to The Bush for a couple of pints and then on to Deeley's café in West Street for sausage, egg, chips and baked beans. Deeley's was a real 'greasy spoon' run by a Mr Wackett and Mike used to bring him matchbox labels from all over the world.
"After lunch we'd go to the cinema, irrespective of what was showing and then it would be back to the Duke of Cambridge for a few pints and a game of darts while we decided what we were going to do in the evening. Mike kept on devising these new games of darts which nobody but he understood. That was the whole idea, because it meant that he always won!" - p297
'Peter is now going through a change of life, or something, because he is talking more and more about stopping racing and building houses and raising little Peters and Louises. We've been searching the American housing magazines like mad and cutting out things, etc. I think we want to build a modern American-type house near Peter's home (and that's unheard of here). We have a piece of land about three minutes walking distance from Shatterford Grange that's on top of a hill, with a view both ways that goes for miles and miles.' Louise letters - p298
'It was an eventful journey. They arrived over Milan to find it covered in thick fog, so the plane was diverted to Turin, where they had to wait nearly three hours for a coach to take them to Milan. The coach driver clearly had something of the Kamikaze in him, for he kept trying to overtake huge lorries in the fog, which frightened the life out of Ken and Mike (one of the world's worst passengers).
After a death-defying trip they arrived in Milan to find there was no transport to take them to the railway station, where they were to catch a train to Modena. After walking a fair distance with their luggage, Mike spotted a taxi outside an hotel. They leapt inside, only to find that it had arrived to collect one of the hotel's guests. As they got out, Mike revealed that his years with Ferrari had taught him enough Italian to be able to question the taxi driver's parentage. The taxi driver replied in the same vein and Mike was all set to indulge in some serious fisticuffs until the driver produced his car's starting handle and the engine was already running.... Mike and Ken continued their walk to the station, eventually arriving in Modena just before midnight.' - p300
'Mike left the circuit early, to avoid the rush and - more important - to enjoy a couple of beers at a bar Ivor had found. Later, Mike returned to the motel where he, Peter and Louise, Taffy von Trips and Wolfgang Seidel were staying. He walked into the Collins' room and, finding that Louise had just run a hot bath for her tired, but victorious husband, stepped into it.
"He didn't say a word." remembers Louise. "He just got in, fully clothed and I'll never forget the sight of him lying there, tired and dusty, his clothes ballooning around him and his bow tie askew, as usual.
"He hadn't noticed that Paul O'Shea's wife, Robin, was with us. She burst out laughing and went into the bathroom to tease him. He pulled her down to him for a kiss and turned the shower on at the same time. She got completely soaked! Then Mike got out, carefully negotiated his way around the furniture and squelched out of the room. And he still hadn't said a word!" - p305
'A furious Hawthorn set off to walk back to the pits, only to be diverted by the sight of a beautiful blonde looking out of a window of the Station Hotel. Never one to miss such an opportunity, he asked her for a drink of water and she invited him in, so he clambered through the window, later returning to the pits in a much happier frame of mind' - p310
'Monaco marked the first anniversary of 'mon ami mate' and Mike and Peter continued to read the Four D Jones strip in The Daily Express avidly. Over the past year their friendship had become very close and an acknowledged feature of the racing circus, but what brought it about? In some respects it was clearly the attraction of opposites, for although both were bright, fun-loving personalities, Mike was very much the extrovert, who could be brash, loud and bloody rude when he felt like it, whereas Peter was somewhat introverted - quiet and with a much gentler character.
As their team-mate in 1957-58, Phil Hill became a close friend of both. "Peter was a great guy and always very helpful and friendly to me when I first joined the Scuderia in 1956, although our friendship had started in Argentina in 1954. I felt that he was a better-adjusted person than Mike, who seemed to have a defence mechanism built into his personality that Peter didn't have at all. He didn't find it as easy as Peter to open up to someone he felt he might be able to be friendly with. He wasn't nearly so approachable and he had a real temper! Mike could get really pissed off by something and become angry and irrational and darn near get physical. I remember leaving Monza one time and we were on the grass, driving past a line of stationary cars and there was an old lady on a bike in front of us and she just would not get out of the way. This infuriated Mike, so he gave her a push and she fell in a heap. She wasn't hurt and we drove on. Mike often got away with things like that." - p310
'The constant travelling meant that we were living in hotels, so our room became a home away from home for Peter and me, and for Mike, too. We had a refuge that he also enjoyed, so he would come and sit with us and he and Peter would get stuck into the endless supply of mystery paperbacks they had bought in Reims in 1957.
I became the den mother, constantly making tea for them, doing their ironing and sewing on buttons while they read their books. Occasionally I would cook for them, so I would be sent out to do the shopping. When we were in England or Europe I always had to buy The Daily Express, so they could catch up on Four D Jones. They called each other 'mon ami mate' and I became 'mon ami matess'.
"Their friendship never imposed on our marriage. Peter and I were really fantastically close, there was this tremendous bond between us and in the eighteen months we had together I don't remember anyone - certainly not Mike-interrupting that bond. The love we had for each other was so terrific and we were so close - physically all the time that no-one could come between us. It was not as if Peter went off to work every day.
"The three of us had a very nice, easy relationship. Mike was dear and we really enjoyed being together. His rudery was never directed at us usually at someone who got him a little off-base. He was boisterous and always funny, like the time when he climbed fully- clothed into the bath I had just run for Peter. I'm sure - that was just his way of releasing the tension of racing, which none of the boys ever wanted to talk about.
"Mike was always being pursued by various females and, of course, he did a fair amount of pursuing himself. When Peter and I were on 'Mipooka' in Monte Carlo harbour, Peter would often point out a pretty girl on the quay, saying, 'Don't you think Mike would fancy her?" For his part, if Mike met a girl he thought an old married couple like us would approve of he would introduce her, but if he found someone he thought we wouldn't like, he would go to enormous trouble to avoid us!
"I think our marriage made the relationship between Peter and Mike even closer than it would have been otherwise, because I was always there and I did accept Mike as Peter's very best friend. It was good for me, too, because I didn't have any close girlfriends during that time. I never got to know Katie Moss well at all, we were in different camps, but Harry Schell's wife, Monique, became a good friend. In the Ferrari team I was surrounded by delightful fellas like Phil and Taffy and Olivier, but next to Peter my closest relationship was with Mike, although he was never my confidant - I would never speak to him about a personal matter 1 wouldn't discuss with Peter." - p310
'Roy Salvadori liked both men enormously, but in his opinion, "They were possibly the worst pair of drivers Ferrari ever had! They were so friendly they weren't doing their best for the team. You used to see them following each other around, taking it in turns to lead, or tackle somebody, and you won't get results that way in Grand Prix racing. Can you imagine Peter sticking his neck out to beat Mike? It never happened, because it didn't matter to him whether he was quicker than Mike in practice or the race. They were so friendly they wanted to share everything, so they never pushed each other.' - p310/311
'The most important thing about Peter was that he had such an engaging personality. He could be infuriating, but it was literally impossible (even for me) to be annoyed with him for long. He could get away with anything just by turning on the charm, which never seemed to be forced or insincere. It seemed to illuminate everything he did and I never met anyone who was impervious to it." - p317
'By the time Peter arrived in Modena, Dino was also suffering from nephritis and his life was slipping away. Peter went to see him and the two young men born scarcely a couple of months apart formed an immediate rapport, as Romolo Tavoni testifies.
"Peter was a very good friend for Dino, because he was very sympathetic and understanding. Dino would say, 'Peter - are you going to the movies tonight?'
'No. I will stay here with you. Why?'
'Because if you go to the movies, tomorrow morning you can tell me all about it. I cannot get out of bed. I am like a small bird in a big cage.'
"So Peter would go to the cinema and the next day he would describe to Dino the movie he had seen. Naturally, this kindness created a very good impression with Enzo Ferrari and the Signora, although Peter did not do it for this reason." - p318
'At the end of June, Dino died. Enzo Ferrari and Laura were devastated, but at the same time they seemed to find in Peter a surrogate son and lavished kindness and affection upon him. Dino had had the use of a flat above the Ristorante Cavallino and not long after his death Ferrari insisted that Peter leave the Reale Hotel and move in. It is said that Signora Ferrari often made his breakfast and even took care of his laundry on occasion.' - p318
'"I got the distinct impression that the Old Man was looking to Peter to replace Dino in a sense - in an emotional rather than a family way. Peter learned to speak Italian well and often joined Ferrari for meals. He had arrived on the scene almost at the moment of Ferrari's greatest grief and I think the Old Man liked the fact that he was probably the least serious of all the drivers he ever had. He had this wonderful boyish, infectious sense of humour and he was always laughing. Ferrari was clearly very fond of him and they had a very good relationship." - p318
'Bernard Cahier is even more emphatic. "Ferrari fell in love with Peter and after Dino died he looked upon him as a second son. Peter enjoyed this relationship and spent much of his time at Maranello, but when he married Louise the Old Man became very jealous - he didn't like drivers' wives or girlfriends around at the best of times. A few years ago he told me that Peter was his favourite driver of all, but added, He would have had a wonderful career had it not been for that donna - that woman!"
Jabby Crombac has the same impression. "When Peter first went to Ferrari he was the darling of Enzo and his wife, Laura and when Dino died, Peter became the son they had lost, but when he married Louise, the climate changed immediately." - p318
'Throughout that year, whenever they were in Modena the Collinses would dine frequently with the Ferraris and Peter would spend a great deal of time with the Old Man. "They were certainly parental figures in both our lives." says Louise. "It is said that Ferrari didn't like it when Peter and I got married, but he never showed it to me. They were both very kind and always showed great warmth towards me."
Due to her lack of Italian, Louise's relationship with the Ferraris hardly extended beyond smiles, nods and gestures, but Peter arguably got closer to Enzo than any other driver, before or since. This intimacy brought fourth a remarkable result late in 1957, shortly before the Italian Grand Prix.' - p319
'Peter decided it was time to put their special relationship to the test. He went to see the Old Man and gave him a severe talking to.
"He felt that the root cause of Ferrari's unhappiness was the loss of Dino." says Louise. "He told him that he had done enough mourning; that he should stop living in the past (which he never did otherwise) and that he should pay attention to the racing programme and get it going again.
"Ferrari just sat there and said nothing, and I remember Peter coming back to me looking very worried. 'I don't think he'll ever speak to me again.' he said, 'I'm probably out of a job!"
What happened next astonished Peter and Louise. Ferrari summoned them both to his office, where he thanked Peter profusely for his advice and then made them a remarkable offer, as Louise excitedly informed her parents a few days later.
Ferrari has decided that he would keep us in Modena more if we had a nice place to live, so he has given us his villa near the factory at Maranello to use for as long as we want, They haven't lived in it since the war, so the day before yesterday we opened it up and started to clean the place. Its quite modern and we're thrilled to death with it. All we had to do was to open the windows and peasant-type people came screaming in to help. Peter has been getting some exercise getting weeds out of the driveway and I'm working miracles with soap and water inside. On the first floor we have two big rooms and a huge hall - both with marble floors - a small john and kitchen, and on the second floor three bedrooms, very big modern bathroom, a small room which will be a bar and a balcony that runs the full length of the house.' - p320
'Peter and Louise were in for another surprise. Enzo and Laura Ferrari arrived and presented Louise with a big three-diamond ring! 'We're still not quite sure why they gave it to me,' she wrote to her parents, 'but believe me, they got thanked good and proper. WOW!' - p320
'for a couple of weeks later Peter and Louise closed up the villa in Maranello and moved on board their new boat in Monte Carlo harbour.
That move was the beginning of the end of the special relationship. "Ferrari actually became jealous because Peter had escaped his clutches." recalls Jabby Crombac. "By leaving Maranello, Peter had deserted the family. He had become a traitor!"
So why did Peter leave? "He had become unhappy living under the Ferrari yoke at Modena." says Phil Hill.
"No matter who you were, when you lived there you had to toe the Ferrari line and like so many other people Peter became uncomfortable at always having to please Ferrari - for everything to have to go his way. Ferrari did everything he could to make Louise and Peter happy in that little house down the road from Maranello. He felt good having Peter nearby and he was not at all pleased when they went to live in Monte Carlo," - p320
'On their return from Le Mans, Peter and Louise stayed overnight at the Frensham Ponds Hotel, near Farnham, and spent some time with Mike and his mother in their house at Folley Hill, before heading North for Kidderminster. "The funny thing about that" says Louise, "was that Mike had complained bitterly about there being no headroom for him on our boat in Monte Carlo, yet in his own home he had to duck through every doorway!" - p321
'Peter was very upset about being dropped from the Grand Prix and that evening there was a pretty heated meeting between himself, Mike, Tavoni and Ken Gregory in the Collinses hotel suite at the Lion d'Or. "Mike took full blame for wrecking the clutch at Le Mans," says Ken, "but I was never sure that Tavoni believed him. Eventually, we persuaded Tavoni to talk to Ferrari on Peter's behalf and he phoned him the next day, with the result that Peter got his drive in the Grand Prix, as well as doing the F2 race." - p325
'Tony Rudd was there with BRM and he recalls having lunch at the Lion d'Or with Harry Schell. "He told me that he was going to have a good steak and a bottle of Beaujolais, then he was going to take his wife, Monique to bed for one of the best experiences of her life! During the meal, Mike Hawthorn passed by and whispered to me "Keep him talking!" Later, I learned that when Harry and Monique got to their room they found that absolutely everything had been removed, there was just a large vase of flowers in the middle of the floor. Then they found that they had been locked in.
"Harry kicked up such a spectacular row that next day the perpetrators carried his little Vespa car in off the street and up the stairs to the card room on the second floor, where they left it with a 'For sale' sign on top" - p325
'Despite the tragedy, the Grand Prix circus carried on as usual. That night Tony Rudd walked into everyone's favourite watering hole, Bridget's Bar, to be greeted by Mike.
""Glad you've come.' he said, and proceeded to wind a hosepipe round and round my waist before sticking the nozzle down my trousers. I managed to remove it just before he turned the water on!" - p326
'For his part, Peter apparently resolved to help Mike all he could in his quest for the Championship, as Sir David Brown recalls. 'Peter and Louise came aboard my boat in Monte Carlo several times before the British Grand Prix and I remember a discussion when Peter suggested that instead of hanging back and driving to finish at Silverstone, he should go flat out and tempt the opposition to chase him and blow up. He would either blow up, too, or slow down and allow Mike to go through and win. He asked me what I thought and I said, 'Its all right if it works.', but it didn't work. He led from the start, but his car did not blow up and he won!" - p327
'The Collins family returned joyously to Shatterford Grange, taking with them Tony Brooks and his fiancée, Pina Resegotti, whom he had met when the Aston Martin team was racing at Rouen in 1956. Peter booked them into a nearby hotel and was astonished when Tony asked for separate rooms. Pina laughs at the memory. "He was so impressed by that. To think that there were still some people who did not sleep together before they were married! He joked about it almost in amazement but in a very nice way. He respected our decision, although he obviously thought we were crazy. Peter had such tremendous charm and savoir faire. That weekend he spent some time trying to persuade Tony to join Ferrari - 'You will fit in so well with Mike and me.'" - p329
"Racing weekends in general were very social," recalls Louise "and when we went to the hotel lobby or restaurant it was always a time of high energy. Mike spent a great deal of time with us and I can't remember the first occasion I woke up to find him in our bedroom, looking down on Peter and me saying, 'Where's the tea?' Invariably he would join us for breakfast and he and Peter would bully me - there was never enough tea and while I was ringing Room Service for more they would drink up all the milk." - p333
'Meanwhile back at the start and finish area the racing fraternity was in a fearful state of uncertainty, as American journalist Denise McCluggage recalled in Auto Week:
'We didn't hear anything. We didn't know anything. There had been a helicopter, we were told. They had taken Peter to Bonn. And time stretched on.
'I don't remember whose room we were in at the Sporthotel under the stands, nor exactly who was there. Eight or ten others. We were waiting an understood but acknowledged waiting. Anyone close to racing is familiar with it. And in the meantime we talked and laughed. I was cutting Jo Bonnier's hair.
'Jo and I were the only ones facing the open door and we saw Mike first and froze and then everyone else turned and froze.
Mike Hawthorn was big and square-jawed and fair- haired. So fair. One of those English schoolboy faces that said "Goodbye, Mr Chips." to Robert Donat. He was still in his driving clothes - his dirty white pants, his green battle-jacket. His face was streaked. And tired.
'He didn't have to say anything. Slowly in his hands he turned a shattered brown crash hat we all recognised as Peter's.'
Mike went to his room and packed his belongings. He was then told by Artur Keser of Mercedes that Peter was seriously hurt and had been flown to Bonn. He packed Peter's and Louise's things and then, with Harry Schell, set out for the hospital in the Mercedes Peter and Harry had hired at the airport a couple of days earlier.' - p336
"They wanted to see Peter, so I went to the Reception and said, 'I am Tavoni of Ferrari and I want to see Peter Collins, who has been brought here by helicopter.'
"But you will see a dead man!' said the receptionist.
"I told her his wife is here and she wants to see him."
Louise was adamant. "I needed to see him, otherwise I wasn't going to believe he was dead." she says. "I think Mike and I probably still had a strong feeling that it was all a mistake. I remember going into the room and he was on a table of sorts. I just saw one foot and it was absolutely white. It could have been anyone's foot, but I finally knew. I didn't need to see anything else."
Tavoni remembers vividly that "The doctor pulled back the sheet and there was Peter, like he was asleep. Mike took one look, turned and went out into the corridor, where he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. He just sat there, saying nothing. I looked at Peter. There was a bruise on one arm and the skin at the back of his neck was very red, but that was all." - p336
"There were hundreds of people waiting to see us get off the plane." remembers Louise. "The observation platform at Heathrow was absolutely packed and the Press were everywhere. There was a special Press reception area and when Mike and I walked in it was like going through a tunnel of people. Mike spoke to them briefly and then someone produced a car for us and we drove up to Kidderminster. When we got there we were in such a state that we couldn't remember how to get to Shatterford, so we found The Black Boy at Bewdley and Alistair Wilson looked after us."
"They arrived here at about 7 pm in Mike's Jaguar." recalls Alistair. "Louise was in a bit of a state and stayed outside the pub having a couple of brandies. As Pat and Elaine were still on their way back from Dartmouth, she had arranged to pick up some keys for Shatterford Grange from the Lodge to the house, but neither she nor Mike could remember how to get to Shatterford from Bewdley. I led them over in my car and once they had got the keys I left them there to wait for the others." - p337
'Mike was absolutely shattered by the death of 'mon ami mate'.
"It really floored him." says Bill Morgan, who was still running the TT Garage with Mrs Hawthorn. "He talked about it frequently in the following weeks and it affected him very badly - he nearly finished with racing right there and then. On more than one occasion he sat with me in the office and said, 'Bill, I'm giving up. I'm getting the twitch."
He said much the same thing to Jill Hume-Kendall.
"He was in floods of tears and very shaky about the whole thing. He wasn't at all sure that he could go on racing." - p338
'I have never seen Ferrari as upset as he is now over Peter's death. He said that since his own son died he regarded Peter as his son and wanted to give us the villa and to give Peter part of the Ferrari factory. He was so much like Peter's father with so many plans for his future and now all that is just finished. Well, its wonderful that Peter did have that marvellous relationship with Ferrari.' - p338
'Mike decided to continue racing, feeling a deep obligation towards Peter, who had been trying so hard to help him win the title. His earlier decision to retire at the end of the year, however, was now set in stone as a result of Peter's death.' - p339
'The evidence that cleared Mike came, remarkably, from his great rival Stirling Moss.
"I spoke up for Mike because it looked as though they might disqualify him and I didn't want to win the Championship by default. I had seen him stall the car and I told him to go down the hill and re-start. But he wasn't on the circuit - he was on the escape road, so there was no question of him going against the traffic and I felt that he should not be disqualified.
"It cost me the Championship, but so what? It depends on which way you want to win it. I liked Mike so I volunteered the information. If it had been someone else I might have waited to see if I was asked." - p340
'Mike was staying at the Palace Hotel, in Milan, as was Louise, who realised with a jolt that the great friendship she and Peter had shared with him was virtually over. "With Peter gone, his attitude towards me changed completely." she says. "It was probably the simple fact that we were not three anymore. I went to his room on the morning of the race and we had tea together. It was a mistake. Later, we went to the circuit with some friends of his and after the race I saw him only very briefly before he was gone."
The friends were Michael and Noreen Irving Swift, who lived near Mike in Farnham and were holidaying in Italy, having arranged to go to the race with him. "When we arrived at the Palace Hotel it was about mid- day and he was still in bed." says Michael. "He wasn't looking forward to the race at all the Championship was really getting to him. Eventually five of us set off for Monza - Mike, Jack Dunfee, my wife and I and Louise. We all piled into Mike's Lancia Aurelia, which had no brakes as such, so it was quite a ride. Louise was holding together quite well in the circumstances, for not only was this her first race since Peter's death, but certain charming sections of the Press were trying to make out that she and Mike were having and affair, which was nonsense." - p343
'A week or so later, he took his girlfriend Jean Howarth to Paris, where he first admired the curves of the cars at the Salon and later those of the girls at the Saloon (Crazy Horse).
"There was one who did a reverse strip-tease." says Jean. "Mike found that very interesting! It was a great relief for him to get away from England for a few days. The long gap between the races made him very nervous and people would keep asking him silly questions about the Championship."' - p346
'Previously he had never come to my bedroom the night before a race, but he did in Casablanca. Most unlike Michael!' - p347
"You did it, you old so-and-so." said the gallant loser, who must have been bitterly disappointed to have won four races and still failed to secure the title.
An ecstatic Romolo Tavoni clapped Mike on the back.
"Next year we will do it again."
"I won't be racing next year." said Mike, "I'm going to retire."
Tavoni didn't believe him.
For the man who had just become World Champion, Mike was decidedly lacking in excitement immediately after the race. "He was quite strange - he didn't want to know anyone." says Jean Howarth. "He walked me away from the circuit with everyone trying to get him back. He just wanted to get to the hotel for some peace and quiet and he was worried about Stuart Lewis- Evans, for the news of him was not good. And Olivier Gendebien had had a big accident, too." - p348
'What should have been a glorious day of victory for Mike ended in a pretty downbeat manner, with everyone deeply concerned about the condition of the very popular Stuart Lewis-Evans. Mike, Jean and some friends decided to have a couple of drinks in their hotel room before turning in, but then Ralph Martin of Shell arrived and suggested they all go to a nearby night club and join up with John Cooper, Roy Salvadori, Graham Hill and Cliff Allison.
They went, but not before Mike had sent a cable to Louise, who was playing in 'Romanoff and Juliet' at the National Theatre in Washington, DC. Deeply conscious of the part Peter had played in his success, Mike gave Louise the good news:
'WE HAVE DONE IT MON AMI MATESS. WILL WRITE SOON. LOVE MON AMI MATE. MICHAEL.' - p348
"He walked into a wall of something he never expected all the fuss that went with the title. His idea of the end of season was to go splashing about in the mud on his motor bike, chasing girls and drinking in pubs, but now he was virtually under arrest from the time he became World Champion. He didn't have a moment to himself and he had no agent, no organisation to deal with it." - p349
'Mike and Jean spent Christmas with Mrs Hawthorn at Green Fields, on Folley Hill. It was not the most enjoyable of Christmas Days for Mike, as his kidneys were giving him considerable pain and he spent the day in bed. He recovered in time to spend New Year's Eve with Jean at nearby Wanborough Manor, but New Year's Day brought him something of a slap in the face Britain's first World Champion was not included in the New Year's Honours List! Nor was Tony Vandervell, whose Vanwalls had done so much for Britain's prestige and had won the Constructors' title. However, Stirling Moss, who had not won the World Championship, was awarded the Order of the British Empire.
The racing world was delighted for Stirling, who thoroughly deserved his honour, but the omission of Mike Hawthorn and Tony Vandervell from the list seemed like a calculated snub by someone. Nick Syrett phoned his friend to commiserate.
"I see your mate won the OBE, then." he said, with some sarcasm.
"Yes," said Mike, "Order of the Bald Ead."
And that was the end of that conversation.' - p352
"When Mike asked my father's permission to marry me he had not - understandably - said anything about his illegitimate son in France." says Jean. "I went home to explain that situation and the following weekend Mike was going to Paris to see his French lawyer and make some kind of settlement on the boy." - p353
"I'd been staying with Peter's parents at Shatterford Grange, and on my way to London I stopped and called Mike to confirm the time of our date at the Westbury. He sounded marvellous and said he would meet me at 3 o'clock. I'd hardly seen him at all since Peter died, so I was really looking forward to that afternoon." - p354
'Mr James Marks saw the crash from his house. He told The Daily Express; 'When the two cars passed me they were going at such a speed I knew something must happen at the bends they were approaching. They were neck and neck as they went by my house. I opened the window to watch. The Jaguar, approaching the bend, just could not get far enough over to the far side to negotiate it. It shot across the road and ended in a ditch.' - p354
"The car was on its side, wrapped around a tree....Hawthorn was barely breathing. He had no pulse. He was deeply unconscious. He possibly breathed twice, but it was too late to do anything." - p355
'John Coombs also called Bill Morgan at the TT Garage.
"He told me that Mike had had a spill and would I come down straightaway. I went to find Mrs H and we joked about it. 'Hope he hasn't done any damage. Then Coombs called again and said, 'Don't come here, they've taken him to the Guildford Hospital.' When we arrived there, someone came out to meet us and before he could say a word, Mrs H said, 'My son is dead, isn't he?'" - p355
'Not long after the funeral the surgeon who had operated on Mike in 1954 wrote to Bill Morgan to say that while his death was very sad, it was really for the best. He had died in an instant and without suffering, whereas had he lived it would have only been for another year or eighteen months, as his kidneys were deteriorating rapidly and would have caused him a great deal of unpleasantness before they failed completely. Their condition was incurable. Duncan Hamilton was told the same story by the man who had conducted Mike's autopsy.' - p359
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